Friday Full-Length: Red Sparowes, At the Soundless Dawn
Posted in Bootleg Theater on June 5th, 2020 by JJ KoczanIt’s ironic that an album so clearly based around the end of existence as we know it through a sixth great extinction should be so comforting. In 2005, when Red Sparowes issued At the Soundless Dawn, the notion on which the 62-minute seven-tracker was based was a relatively unknown idea, and since then not only has the science behind it become more widely accepted but countless other bands have taken their cues from Red Sparowes and from the world around them generally and openly discussed issues of climate change, nature and humanity’s relation to it. It doesn’t seem fair to attribute that to the Los Angeles-based outfit alone — everyone lives on the planet, after all, and the subject is relevant politically as well as in terms of the sheer ecosystem destruction — but they helped pave the way certainly. Perhaps doubly impressive that’s the case since At the Soundless Dawn is instrumental.
The subject matter was just one of the ways in which Red Sparowes‘ debut, out initially on CD through Neurot Recordings and vinyl through Robotic Empire, was groundbreaking. Post-metal was just beginning to take shape at the time, with stylistic godfathers Neurosis having released The Eye of Every Storm and Isis issuing Panopticon the year before. Bands like Minsk and Mouth of the Architect also making striking debuts and Russian Circles were beginning to find their way in terms of aesthetic. It was an exciting time for a new progressive vision of heavy, and At the Soundless Dawn offered not only that, but a distinct literary sensibility owing in part to the structure of its titles. To wit, the tracklisting:
1. Alone and Unaware, the Landscape was Transformed in Front of Our Eyes
2. Buildings Began to Stretch Wide Across the Sky, And the Air Filled With A Reddish Glow
3. The Soundless Dawn Came Alive as Cities Began to Mark the Horizon
4. Mechanical Sounds Cascaded Through the City Walls and Everyone Reveled in Their Ignorance
5. A Brief Moment of Clarity Broke Through the Deafening Hum, But it Was Too Late
6. Our Happiest Days Slowly Began to Turn into Dust
7. The Sixth Extinction Crept Up Slowly, Like Sunlight Through the Shutters, as We Looked Back in Regret
Reading those now it’s hard not to think of looking at wildfires in the distance, raging so hard that the smoke they’re putting out is adding to the pollution that was their cause in the first place.
Each track, thusly descriptive, becomes an evocative chapter in this overarching narrative, and with ties to both Isis through guitarist/organist Bryant Clifford Meyer and guitarist/bassist Jeff Caxide and Neurosis through guitarist/pianist Josh Graham — who handled visuals for Neurosis live for years as well as artwork and did the same for Red Sparowes; his art has continued to work in themes of nature and climate — as well as Marriages through bassist/pedal steel guitarist Greg Burns, Red Sparowes immediately had the pedigree to validate their ambition. That is to say, 15 years ago, a band making their debut on Neurot with members associated with Isis, Neurosis and Marriages would have an easy time getting their foot in the door of listeners. I have to think that the same would apply if At the Soundless Dawn were coming out today. Maybe more so.
On top of that, however, Red Sparowes would earn every ounce of acclaim they’d reap. The depths and sprawl of At the Soundless Dawn remain likewise immersive and staggering, and in moments of shining pedal steel giving way to ambient synthesized and manipulated voice drones like “Mechanical Sounds Cascaded…” or in the relatively driving recurring riffs of “Buildings Began to Stretch Wide…” — particularly Neurosis-derived — and the circa-midpoint wash of 19-minute closer “The Sixth Extinction Crept Up Slowly…,” and in the quiet reaches that follow and seem to manifest extinction itself, At the Soundless Dawn succeeds in telling its story without saying a single word. And though obviously the finale is a focal point as it consumes nearly a third of the album’s total runtime, shorter pieces like “A Brief Moment of Clarity…” — the pedal steel of which reminds me of repurposed Yawning Man guitar tone — and “The Soundless Dawn Came Alive…” and the penultimate echoing “Our Happiest Days…” play an essential role in casting a vision of heavy that is no less meditative than it is weighted. These are ideas one might now take for granted in no small part because of the work Red Sparowes do in these songs.
The band would have reunited in April — they may yet do so in 2021 — at the Roadburn Festival in the Netherlands. Timely because of the 15th anniversary of this album, no doubt their taking the stage would and will be welcome anytime it happens. The lineup would change over time as Caxide, Graham and original drummer Dana Berkowitz left and the likes of Emma Ruth Rundle (then also of Marriages), Dave Clifford (Pleasure Forever) and Brendan Tobin (Made Out of Babies) — among others — would make their way into and out of the group. The second album, 2006’s Every Red Heart Shines Toward the Red Sun, took on a more directly sociopolitcal theme while furthering the debut’s sonic purposes, and 2008’s Toshi Kasai-produced Aphorisms EP and 2010’s The Fear is Excruciating, but Therein Lies the Answer long-player (on Sargent House) — which I apparently bought at Roadburn 2010 — round out the main catalog, though splits along the way with Gregor Samsa, Grails, and Made Out of Babies & Battle of Mice provided quicker immersion.
Maybe Red Sparowes ran their natural course in the same way that Isis did, though it certainly happened in less time for Bryant Clifford Meyer in the band considered widely his own. I’ll admit it had been a while since I last listened in earnest to At the Soundless Dawn, and as I remember seeing them during this era (as much as I remember anything from that era), I was looking forward to doing so again now. The world is what it is. Sad, mostly. At the Soundless Dawn is warm and prescient in kind, and offers escapism even as it hinges on direct confrontation with complexities and the delirium tremens of our times.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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What would it take for a global pandemic to fall out of the lead spot on the news? I don’t know who asked, but I’m sorry they did. The killing of George Floyd is a tragedy, and while I’m skeptical it will result in any grand structural change, particularly with white apartheid embedded in the current structure of the American republic owing to gerrymandering and voter suppression, seeing people out across the country calling for change has been a reminder that the majority of citizens across demographics actually support progressive causes, and it is the minority who lead and do so to serve their own interests.
Consider the US president mobilizing prison guards to disperse a peaceful protest to take a photo holding a Bible in front of a church that would soon denounce him. Constitutional? No, not really. More like white supremacist fascism couched as “strong leadership.” In fact there is nothing strong about it.
I generally don’t believe in the power of nonviolent protest to enact meaningful change, but if you haven’t given money to Black Lives Matter, the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Bail Fund, or any other progressive cause speaking out this week, now’s a good time.
I understand now how Germans who disagreed with the Nazis got stuck. I have a home. I have a young child. My wife has a job. We have this house. And who knows if we could get across a border anyway? Where would we go? Tilburg? Canada? Ireland? The Patient Mrs. and I have talked numerous times about “when it’s time to leave” and honestly, the mobilization of legally-specious secret police forces — and subsequent lying to the press about it — seems to be a good time. Hell, locking kids in cages seemed to be a good time, even if our white privilege protected us from actually experiencing that horror first-hand. But where would we go? Could we just leave? What would we take? What about my family? What about her family?
I don’t hold any great love of this country. I speak English, which is convenient here, but it’s convenient in a bunch of places. I think patriotism is downright silly, but I love my family. I love her family. What about them? What about the few real-life friends that I have? Some have already left. Should I follow? Can I?
That’s how it happens. It’s easy now to look back on World War II-era Europe and wonder why everyone being persecuted or who were scared of speaking out didn’t just leave. Many did. And honestly, my wife is a published author on record as supporting radical left wing and feminist ideals, and because of that I fear for her. But we have a life. Can we go? Is it time? Am I being paranoid? Would they ever “come for us” in any meaningful sense? And even if they didn’t, doesn’t that just make me all the more complicit if I don’t actively resist? Isn’t the all-or-nothing nature of fascism, not to mention the life and death stakes, emblematic of the need to take a strong stand against it?
And then it’s too late.
That’s how it happens.
Life unfolds in a series of minutes spent waiting for other things.
I would say practice radical love, but I’m not sure that’s the answer. If you’re out there protesting, or vigil-ing, or whatever, watch your back, and be fucking careful. There’s still a pandemic on, even if the numbers are down right now.
FRM.
