Swans used to pummel you into oblivion with giant, cold mechanical fists (well, sometimes they’d squeeze you slowly like an iron giant). This personality conquered any music of a similar nature. It’s what they’re best at, and they still managed to make a diverse, evolving career with it (The Burning World is great, by the way). This reboot that started with The Seer and continues with To Be Kind shows they’re intent on strummin’, moanin’, and hauntin’. It works fine on its own merits; but not quite as well.

Michael Gira has forgotten how to be threatening. Whenever he tries it on To Be Kind, it sounds like stuff you’d hear on a dollar store Halloween mix CD (oops, that’s how I criticized All the Pretty Little Horses). That doesn’t mean the compositions do, just him, such as the silly laughing in “Just a Little Boy.” Fortunately, the lengthy, droning nature of the music gives us an advantage for once in that his goofy moments are spaced out more. I can picture him wearing his token cowboy hat on “A Little God in My Hands,” as well. “Oxygen” is especially weird, sounding like an extended version of a track by The Birthday Party or maybe The Fall. Gira doesn’t sound like a dangerous person anymore—now, he just sounds like a weird homeless man, generally. The Seer was more perturbed, at least.

If I wanted to get a lot of favorites I’d make this review say “my reaction is the same as the album cover,” but that’s dishonest. To Be Kind is an all right album with some great parts scattered about. There’s nothing good enough to reward two hours of time (or nine minutes, since that’s the average track length), but it’s soothing and has a fairly strong presence in a dark, mantra-esque way. Wait a minute, would I rather listen to Tool for that? I dunno, but it’s something to think about. I’m rarely a fan of post-rock, anyway. The excessive length of albums is usually a crutch by diffident bands who are worried they can’t set up a strong enough atmosphere without insisting on it. Also, I can’t stand babies.