The Rock Blogger

Drawing by Marc Ngui

“In rupture, not only has the matter of the past volatised; the form of what happened, of an imperceptible something that has happened in a volatile matter, no longer even exists. One has become imperceptible and clandestine in a motionless voyage. Nothing can happen, or can have happened, any longer. Nobody can do anything for or against me any longer. My territories are out of grasp, not because they are imaginary, but the opposite, because I am in the process of drawing them. Wars, big and little, are behind me. Voyages, always in tow to something else, are behind me. I no longer have any secrets, having lost my face, form and matter. I am now no more than a line. I have become capable of loving, not with an abstract, universal love, but a love I shall choose, and that shall choose me, blindly, my double, just as selfless as I. One has been saved by and for love, by abandoning love and self. Now one is no more than an abstract line, like an arrow crossing the void. Absolute deterritoralisation.”

Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari - A Thousand Plateaus

YOGA. Megafauna . 2009. 4.5 stars.

A fascinating drone album that oscillates between airy dark ambiance and raw experimentation. YOGA’s mystical surrealism opens up a sonic space punctured by bursts of distorted guitar noise, warbling synths and martial percussion. There are no voices echoing across this landscape, only the chirps, grunts and groans of unknown animals (cryptozoology).

The atmosphere is dense and absorbing, lulling the listerner into an eerie dream, or worse, repressed memories. Megafauna is nothing short of vision quest, using organic textures and subtle progressions to trace paths in the forgotten forests of the mind. While some of YOGA’s noisy bursts are odd, if not unsettling, they are used to light up the caverns they plunge into. Megafauna is a unique piece of psychological terror that challenges the listener to go beyond melodic structures and stand in a primordial clearing.

Rahu. Ride of the Eight Black Steeds. 2008. 4 stars.
Obscure, lo-fi black metal inspired by wrathful figures from Hindu mythology. A strong, misanthropic atmosphere emanates from the dense guitar riffs as they cascade against stark percussion and haunting wails. Rahu project the occult mystique of bands like Urfaust while infusing the intense textural dirges of Drudkh. Rahu’s conquest is uncompromising as it stakes its musical vision in some mystical darkness, pushing their sound towards a violent cosmology.

Like it’s predecessor Caput Draconis, this release is too short and unpolished to fully extend it’s colossal vision, though I suppose you can always listen to the two demos back to back. Despite it’s brevity, this effort is intriguing shift of perspective for the black metal underground, looking towards astrological terror, as opposed to Northern landscapes, for demonic inspiration.

Ivan Shishkin.

The First Snow. 1875.

“Ordinarily we speak of letting be whenever, for example, we forgo some enterprise that has been planned. “We let something be” means we do not touch it again, we have nothing more to do with it. To let something be has here the negative sense of letting it alone, of renouncing it, of indifference and even neglect. However, the phrase required now — to let beings be — does not refer to neglect and indifference but rather the opposite. To let be is to engage oneself with beings. On the other hand, to be sure, this is not to be understood only as the mere management, preservation, tending, and planning of the beings in each case encountered or sought out. To let be — that is, to let beings be as the beings which they are — means to engage oneself with the open region and its openness into which every being comes to stand, bringing that openness, as it were, along with itself”.

-Martin Heidegger. On the Essence of Truth

Hateful Abandon - Famine (Or Into The Bellies Of Worms). 2008. 4.5 stars.

This is a rather obscure but rewarding debut from Hateful Abandon. Evoking the bleak fog of the UK, this duo play sparse post-punk melancholy with a blackened metal edge. Mournful bellows, accompanied by sinister, wraith-like snarls, open a space where the cold bass lines of Joy Division meet the raspy gloom of Altar of Plagues.

While the dual vocals initially seem melodramatic and odd, they come to complement the fluid guitar riffs as they twist their menacing way. Slower songs like “Riding the Blade” and “Avalanche” roll on with apocalyptic grandeur, with plodding percussion and eerie post-rock jangles creating dark spaces for the band to explore. Hateful Abandon are at their best towards the album’s conclusion, as they throw off their shadowy art-rock decorum and launch into energetic (but none the less oppressive) bursts of post-punk. “Painters Rope” and “Lungs” are understated masterpieces, with sinewy bass lines reminiscent of “Shadowplay” and other dark classics from Unknown Pleasures.

While Hateful Abandon are clearly disciples of the English post-punk tradition, they inject enough of a cold, black metal atmosphere to create a distinct and moody sound. Through the careful use of space, an exchange of vocal styles and muscular muscianship, Hateful Abandon walk a dark mile to the coast, blurring the horizon line.

Ulaan Khol. I and II. 2008. 5 stars.

Glorious psychedelic drone music from the prolific Steven R. Smith (of Hala Strana). Both of these albums are largely guitar based, sending distorted space-rock riffs through hazy ambient mist. Loose, jangly melodies crackle in the arid and ancient atmosphere, sounding like weathered field recordings from Mars. Light noise hovers above the drawn-out instrumentation, painting a beautiful autumnal skyline for the music to dance against. Chords warble and twist like the pitched lure of the snake-charmer.

Ulaan Khol manages to be epic and absorbing without building up steady cresendos or crushing finales - this music deserves meditative patience much like the venerable Natural Snow Buildings. These albums should not be described as walls of sound but more as bubbling streams of consciousness. The expereince is a deep and mysterious one, full of texture, nuance and cosmic wonder. Smith’s compositions wander and haunt like specters over a vast alien landscape, never reaching their destination, but content in their long, winding journey. Simply masterful.