Finnish dark-ambient artists Somnivore draw on allusions to Greek mythology to create this somnambulist album. Deep, rumbling drones, distant voices and airy electronics suck you into these 6 unsettling dreams. A cold atmosphere hangs over the entire album, conveying scenes of abandoned buildings, smoldering cities and mildewy caverns.
The progressions here are absorbing, with enough subtlety to invite meditative, introspective experiences. While the mood of these pieces is vaguely sinister, with its many whispering actors and eerie chimes, Clergy of Oneiros still stirs reflection.
Some of the tracks can be a slightly repetitive and downright baffling, but the more industrial tinged songs at the album’s conclusion brings the meandering to satisfying apex. Midnight music for the lucid dreamer or the downright deranged.
This monster of a prog-rock album follows the back story of Capcom’s Megaman series and delivers its narrative in the most epic, dystopian way possible. Crafting a concept album around a video game may seem insane, but The Protomen have clearly produced one of the most electric and exciting albums of its kind in quite some time. The album immediately sets the stage for post-apocalyptic action, describing the dark Orwellian world ruled by Dr. Wiley and his army of evil robots and the sole inventor, Dr. Light, who secretly creates mankind’s only salvation. The story is surprisingly easy to follow across these jams, drawing on themes of vengeance and duty, capturing the throes of a science fiction battle quite beautifully.
The music itself is consistently interesting, with plenty of electronic effects, slamming piano keys and stunning vocal performances (my friend mistook the lead singer for Matthew Good as he passed by). The Protomen take several pages from prog-rock and glam-rock theatrics, with shades of Rush, Queen and perhaps The Mars Volta thrown in for good measure. Everything from the guitar solos to the urgency of its lyrics make this album an incredibly fun and satisfying listen. The Protomen take their source material quite seriously, with an explosive performance that focuses on the thematics of the game, rather than camp factor or straight parody.
While it may take a few tracks to get into the album’s universe, once you hit fiery songs like “The Will of One” or “The Stand (Man or Machine)” you’ll realize that something truly magical is taking place, elevating this far above being mere fan boy material. Even if you have no interest in Megaman, or any video game whatsoever, the lyrical themes are strong enough on their own to carry this. When it comes to hair-raising performances, The Protomen are just as brave and heroic as their patron saint.
Ps. Be sure to check out the band’s website, its really interactive and trippy.
The Morningside. The Wind, the Trees, and the Shadows of the Past. 2007. 5 stars.
This is a stunning melodic death metal album from a little known Russian band. Sounding like a cross between Agalloch and early Ulver, The Morningside blends emotional and melodic riffs with a grey woodland atmosphere and some clean acoustic flourishes. With a great emphasis on extended instrumentals, these songs are massive and progressively composed, conveying a variety of moods in its many steep peaks and valleys.
The guitar work in particular is majestic, with a crystalline production that lets each tight, wiry riff cast an icy sheen. The vocals for the most part are in the form of distant growls, which despite their melancholic tone, complement the epic musicianship beautifully. There are also some clean, sung vocals thrown in the album’s later half, as a calm, reflective voice contemplates the mystery of the wilderness, conveying cool imagery not unlike the cover above.
The Wind…, much like Agalloch’s The Mantle, strikes a perfect balance between heavy metal catharsis and lush atmospherics, carving out a niche of its own (Grey Metal?). It comes over like a cool thunderstorm, first with crashing booms, then followed by a cleansing downpour. If you are a fan of Agalloch, post-rock, or atmospheric black metal, you owe it to yourself to listen to this. It really is a masterpiece.
These post-rock pioneers seem to have divided critical opinion over the last few years. Being that their breakthrough debut Young Team came out over a decade ago, fans have debated as to whether their followups are merely paled copies of their first efforts or successful attempts at refining and focusing their sound. 2006’s Mr. Beast was an excellent case in point - some argued that it cut Mogwai far too short, narrowing their songs down to powerful bursts, essentially loosing the slow-burning, spacey atmosphere that made them famous. Others, myself included, saw the transition as an attempt to reassert their dominance in a genre now full of faceless copycats. The Hawk is Howling follows the measured lead of its predecessor but is thankfully more intricate, dense and fluid.
The album’s opener, “I’m Jim Morrison, I’m Dead” is a beautiful and impressively detailed track that builds organically into a shimmering crescendo. Its progressions are far less forced and mechanical than some of the other Slint-inspired numbers from their discography. “Batcat”, the first single from the album, is the album’s most intense and bloody song, with lots of cascading feedback and distortion, sounding like a compressed climax from Tool. The burning tension leads to fiery, angular release, reminding me of the final, terrifying moments of Slint’s “Good Morning Captain”, an obvious inspiration for the band. Far from being derivative, “BatCat” blends a climbing doom metal procession with psychedelic passages of noise, making it a genuine tour de force.
Other highlights include the infectious psych-pop of “The Sun Smells to Loud” which features a bouncy, guitar hook accompanied by bright electronic flourishes. Easily one of the catchiest Mogwai songs to come along, perhaps since “Hunted by a Freak”, revealing the more wide-eyed and wondrous side of the band that is often neglected amid the usual gloom and doom (and boom).
The rest of the album, save for a few explosive climaxes, is not as distinctive. Songs like “King’s Meadow”, “Daphne and the Brain” and “Local Authority” are certainly beautiful and relaxed jams, but they seem uneventful in light of their more intense counterparts. “I Love you I’m Going to Blow Up Your School” has a compelling build up, with spidery riffs and a foreboding atmosphere, but its very similar to the gargantuan “My Father My King” from the EP of the same name.
While about half of this album has Mogwai returning to some of their better ideas, there is enough of an experimental edge to this to keep it interesting and fresh. Its a satisfying work to be sure, and it manages to solidify Mogwai’s position as a intense and influential creative force in post rock. The Hawk is Howling may not have the same effect on 2008 as Young Team had on 1997, but its still an impressive accomplishment, both in terms of its tight cohesion and its tense, spiraling compositions.
Mogwai “I’m Jim Morrison, I’m Dead” Live in Mexico City
After listening to these Icelandic post-rockers for almost 7 years, I was finally in their midst last evening. It was Sigur Ros who, alongside Godspeed You Black Emperor and Mogwai, had drastically altered my taste in music, drawing me into a genre that thrived on mystery, drama and enduring patience. When I first heard the glacial tones of Ágætis byrjun, I knew there would be no turning back to the comparatively shallow world of mainstream radio rock. So sitting in the front row of Massey Hall in Toronto, awaiting their highly anticipated performance, meant facing the force that sent me on to my musical discoveries.
Their performance last night exceeded my wildest expectations, not only triggering memories of past lonely winters but also brought about strange, warm feelings in the shimmering atmosphere of their new material. While I have stated previously on this blog that I prefer the somber, shadowy drama of their earlier albums, the bright innocence from Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust melted my apprehensions away as its translation on stage revealed the band’s newfound sense of intimacy. The trickling piano lines of "Inní mér syngur vitleysingur", Jón Þór Birgisson’s sweet falsetto on "Við spilum endalaust" and the infectious, hand clapping, confetti strewn finale of "Gobbledigook" showcased the wistful urgency of their latest work.
The scattered trips down memory lane were equally captivating, including the oceanic percussion of "Ný batterí", the sweeping xylophone intro of "Sæglópur" and the graceful chiming piano of "Hoppípolla". Everything they played was not only note perfect in accordance with their recorded counterparts, but also illustrated the emotional intensity within them with stunning clarity, due to the band’s dynamic and commanding stagecraft. From the bombastic crescendos to the soft creaking of Jón’s vintage pump organ, Sigur Ros had the audience hypnotized as they shifted between rustic, folksy textures and cascading psychedelia.
The highlight of the evening for me though came from the pre-encore rendition of "Untitled 8", the searing climax from 2002’s ( ) . The wiry guitar intro was immediately recognizable, leading the way for the inescapable power of Jón’s vocals. The intricate arpeggios continued to glide along until the building tension finally gave way to pounding drums, bringing us to that inevitable, apocalyptic crescendo. The band ignited into a fury of rapturous guitar solos, earthshaking reverb, and haunting wails, rivaling the cosmic scope of Mogwai’s masterpiece "Mogwai Fear Satan". That explosive performance alone was enough to justify Sigur Ros’ global adulations, as very few bands can reach those celestial heights.
To conclude, seeing Sigur Ros live meant falling in love with their sound all over again, having come face to face with the incredible emotionality of their performance. Whether it was the pained, lovelorn expressions on Jón’s face as he belted out those cryptic verses or the alien drone of bow scraping against a guitar, each glorious element demonstrated the band’s remarkable sensitivity, not only to melody and distortion but to love, fear and boundless joy. It was this sensitivity, rather than the actual set list itself, that had the entire concert hall hanging on their every note.
Untitled #6 (You and the Lights E-Bow), courtesy of Triasas and A.S.
Kansas City’s Lo-Ruhamah play a searing mix of death metal, black metal and post-rock on their debut LP. Their sound shifts dramatically between guttural metal crunch and reflective, crystalline guitar passages, making The Glory of God an expressive and adventurous effort. Its somewhat hard to discern the lyrical themes from the screaming vocals, but their musical progressions capture the ebb and flow of some rapturous (religious?) experience.
The changing dynamics, often joined with delicate piano or acoustic guitar, make the album sound full, accomplished and even dangerous in its risk taking. Lo-Ruhamah have a genuine artistic vision here, this isn’t your run of the mill nu-metal album, this is an attempt at breaking the mold. Their multi-dimensional approach fits nicely among the emerging “heady metal” trends coming out of America, a new wave that includes some recent favorites like Wolves in the Throne Room and Lurker of Chalice.
Despite the album’s progressive powers, the vocals themselves don’t possess the same emotional clarity as the instrumentals. They are either to shrill or too soft to deliver the message wrapped up in the songs. If the band manages to stick it out a while longer, they should be able to reconcile their intense music with their cryptic narratives, just as Tool eventually struck a balance between raw virutoisty and clear spirtual/apocalyptic ideas. As a first effort, The Glory of God stands as a stellar and oirginal work deserving of more critical attention. For their genre-bending intensity, Lo-Ruhamah are among the most impressive acts to be reshaping the world of underground metal.
Forlatt, from Norway’s Vali, is probably the most serene and effective neofolk albums I’ve ever heard. It just happens to be so tragically underwritten. Who is this virtuoso, with their impeccable sense of melody, intricate acoustic guitar work and neoclassical aspiration? I really have no idea. All I know is that this album is a gem worth digging for as it rivals the very best works from the genre, including Ulver’s revered Kvldssanger and the best Empyrium albums.
So what makes this masterpiece such a standout? Maybe its own reluctance to being a masterpiece is key, as its soothing compositions move with calm patience, letting each arpeggio descend and cello ache organically. Nothing about this album can be called pretentious, overwrought or overwhelming, its performances hold a power that is emotionally resonant and deeply comforting. Its has peace and beauty to it and seems to convey scenes of natural solitude or of a love so sound that it isolates, conceals and protects itself from the harshness of the world.
Even if you are familiar with other bands in the neofolk genre, like Tenhi, Empyrium, October Falls, etc., this is still worth the effort to uncover. Whereas its contemporaries are often dark, unsettling and mournful, Vali is uplifting and heartrendingly beautiful. I hope we haven’t heard the last from this mysterious musician.
Nahvalr, described by its founders as “open source black metal”, is nothing less than a landmark in originality. Dan Barrett and Tim Macuga from Connecticut’s equally brilliant Have a Nice Life have taken submitted noises, samples and instrumentals from across the web and melded them together into 8 terrifying movements that shift between ambient, doom, drone and black metal styles. These impenetrable walls of sound are as compelling as they are suffocating, rich with grotesque detail and atmosphere. While numerous dark ambient acts have touched on the same blackened corner stones as Nahvalr, both the innovative creative process and the density of this album is remarkable.
The idea of having many so disparate sounds compiled may seem daunting, even counter productive in the creation of music, Nahvalr moves far beyond mere bursts of noise and finds a common, sinister and even spiritual thread that runs through their collections. Their compositions, whether they are cavernous, bass-driven processions (”Blood Flood”) or ghostly, free-floating ambiance (”Swallower of Bile”) are given ample room to stretch out and breathe, uncovering a powerful emotional center in each.
Music this experimental, haunting and visceral demonstrates the often neglected potential the Internet has for collaborative projects. It may be overlong in some segments, but the dark energy within Nahvalr is impossible to ignore and shake off, making it a masterpiece of devastatingly bleak reflection. I can only hope that projects like Nahvalr, with all their promise and dynamism, will continue to take shape and flourish in our digital culture.
This is a great documentary short celebrating the legendary indie label’s 25th anniversary. Touch and Go helped launch subculture icons like Big Black, Slint, Jesus Lizard, June of 44, Shellac and many others, and established an alternative industry ethic that would foster unconventional sounds.
Famed producer Steve Albini, along with several of the label’s artists make appearances here.
Its certainly worth a look and it may even introduce you to some long hidden gems.
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