The first three installments in the series chronicle a slow descent into the clutches of dementia, with an emphasis on slow and barely discernible. Melodies, used as a stand-in for memories, were blanketed by the persistent crackle of a scratched record, with gentle shifts in their intonation and overall clarity. But the fourth installment takes an abrupt turn toward noise and chaos. "Post Awareness Confusions" is the title shared by three of the four tracks (each running over twenty minutes) and essentially sums up the current diagnosis. The patient took a sudden turn for the worse since the end of Stage 3 and their personality became unidentifiable seemingly overnight. Snippets of the old melodies can be picked out here and there, but anything approaching a recognizable tune has vanished completely. You can't even characterize it as sad, there's simply no trace of the human being who was once there.
The first half of the album is a trying listen, which is certainly the intention. The sudden transition between Stage 3 and 4 feels like cheating the concept of the series a bit -- without knowing exactly how to proceed, The Caretaker launched into noise for noise's sake. The beauty in The Caretaker's music was always in the subtle details, which are now obscured by the change to a more generic noise-based sound. But the second half of the album is far more alluring. "Temporary Bliss State" offers nothing in the way of coherent thoughts -- it's not a reprieve where a few memories come back into focus -- but does settle the torment of the previous forty odd minutes.
As a state of mind, Stage 4 it undoubtedly succeeds, but as an album you'll want to hear regularly, less so. But like so much experimental and noise music, to enter that state of mind, you'll need to subject yourself to nearly the entire thing.
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