Hull, Beyond the Lightless Sky: Earth From Water, Sky From Earth
I don’t usually do things this way, but because so much of what makes Hull’s second album for The End Records, Beyond the Lightless Sky, as ascendant as it is is how the Brooklyn triple-guitar five-piece have it organized, I feel it’s better to lay out the tracklist and runtimes up front rather than to go through the process of exploring each cut into the next and trying to mirror the experience of listening (at least that’s the theory behind it) in the review. Here they are:
1. Earth From Water (11:16)
2. Just a Trace of Early Dawn (5:02)
3. Beyond the Lightless Sky (6:50)
4. Curling Winds (2:36)
5. Fire Vein (9:40)
6. Wake the Heavens, Reveal the Sun (2:42)
7. False Priest (8:43)
8. A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea (3:12)
9. In Death, Truth (6:40)
Now, in looking at the list and listening through the narrative Beyond the Lightless Sky, which follows behind Hull’s 2009 The End debut, Sole Lord, and 2007 self-released Viking Funeral EP, the first thing one might notice is the disparate track times, and that gets to the very center of the album’s methodology. Everything under six minutes is instrumental, and with the exception of “Just a Trace of Early Dawn,” which is longer and a more substantive introduction to that side of the record’s personality, can be read as transitional material between the longer and more extreme (in a heavy metal sense) songs. With this album, Hull play post-metal ideology off post-rock ambience, and by that I mean they’re crushingly heavy in a cerebral sense – the drums of J. Stieber show immediate theory on “Earth From Water” and prove to be an excellent grounding force throughout – but given also to emotional stretches of guitar-led ambience, as on “Curling Winds” or the Pelican-esque “A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea.” Hull work so fluidly within these different but not necessarily clashing parameters that one is through the album’s 56:37 multiple times before the structure necessarily becomes apparent.
Helping that as well is that, as much as “Curling Winds,” “A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea” and the Neurosis-style tribal drumming of “Wake the Heavens, Reveal the Sun” — on which Jarboe (ex-Swans and current, well, Jarboe) offers distinct guest incantations and engineer Brett Romnes joins in the percussive pulse – are transitional leading from one longer piece to the next, they’re substantial in their own right, harnessing cloud-covered atmospheres to match Hull’s stated conceptual framework for Beyond the Lightless Sky, which tells the story of two ancient Mayan brothers, one who, “finds salvation amongst the stars and the wisdom of a stranger, while the other is mesmerized with the bloodthirsty belief of sacrifice and self-mutilation” (source). While they can’t necessarily match the likes of the title-track for intensity or the luminescent triumph of “Fire Vein,” they have their own progression, and particularly in the case of the last, underscore the strong interplay of guitarists A. Mack, C. M. Laietta V and N. Palmirotto (Hull are notoriously guarded when it comes to full names) leading into the rampant complexity of the closer. Beyond the Lightless Sky joins the ranks of strong 2011 releases from the likes of Rwake and Grayceon that affirm there’s more to be done in post-metal than aping Isis’ Panopticon. On their second album, Hull have come into their own and not only join the ranks of forward-thinking American metallers, but position themselves at the front of the pack with a few moments of unabashed, unashamed modern metal.
And of course there’s more to the appeal of Beyond the Lightless Sky than structural intricacies. The guitars are fairly compressed – one imagines that with three and such thunderous tones between them they have to be to achieve any clarity – and a Billy Anderson (Melvins, Eyehategod, Sleep, et al) mix puts a lot of emphasis on S.B. Dunn’s bass, which only makes the start-stop progression that agonizes during the final moments of the title-track all the more tense. Hull earns immediate kudos by starting with their longest song, and “Earth From Water” soon earns respect on a sonic level as well with a driving pummel and the multi-vocal tradeoff approach that typifies most of Beyond the Lightless Sky. That variety makes the record feel manic at times, and perhaps busier than Hull might have intended, but to coincide with the ebb and flow structure of the songs is an ebb and flow structure within them. Palmirotto, Laietta and Mack play off each other excellently for “Earth From Water” and across the rest of the album, coming together to amass a giant riff for the song’s instrumental chorus (also where Stieber first shines) as one soon takes flight for one of Beyond the Lightless Sky’s several landmark solos. It can be an overwhelming listening experience, but the real genius of the way its put together is that Hull, in effect, provide breathing room for each of their longer tracks.
To wit, the slow developing acoustics of “Just a Trace of Early Dawn” (the longest instrumental to complement the longest song overall) lead into the angular extremity of “Beyond the Lightless Sky,” which is an immediate guitar-led rush. Stieber provides excellent fills and the song soon gives way to far-off echoes and a tidal sway, but at its core, it is blisteringly heavy, culminating in the aforementioned start-stops and a solo that seems cut short leading right into “Curling Winds,” which among the ambient pieces is still nonetheless a highlight of Beyond the Lightless Sky if only for the gentle distortion in the guitar. It soothes the way out of the title cut just as much as it clears the palette for “Fire Vein,” the album’s centerpiece and arguable strongest individual work.
It’s here and in the beginning lead lines of “False Priest” that Hull most directly remind of what Grayceon was able to accomplish on 2011’s All We Destroy, the rumbling undulation of guitar and bass managing to sound both engulfing and still somehow desolate set atop the flowing, nod-inducing doom rhythm. They enact a few switches back and forth between heaviness and ambience, but the solo at the three-minute mark reeks of victory and the acoustics added into the second break add a subtle layer of class that shows the depths of Hull’s growth as regards arrangements. They’re not just writing complicated songs and making it work, they’re making elements you wouldn’t expect fit where, on paper, they probably shouldn’t. The inclusion of clean vocals at 6:28 is chilling over the emotional pull of the guitars and among Beyond the Lightless Sky’s most transcendent sections, echoed a short time later by the song’s final payoff (the vocals come together here splendidly) and by the reverb-heavy clean singing 3:46 into “False Priest,” which seems to be a companion all around for “Fire Vein.” The two are similar in length, overall approach and semi-melodic lushness and even with the drum circle “Wake the Heavens, Reveal the Sun” between them, have a natural flow that sees the apex of Beyond the Lightless Sky in the galloping breakdown rhythms just past “False Priest”’s halfway mark. In another context, it would be a tactic straight out of generic metalcore, but Hull weave the adrenaline into their overarching progressive crush and while it’s still violent, it’s more methodical. “False Priest” masterfully thrashes its way into a revival of the lead lines from the intro and ends there, giving way to “A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea” and ultimately “In Death, Truth.”
Curiously, as “A Light that Shone From Aside the Sea” rounds out its already-noted post-rock build, there’s a section of noise that leads directly into the guitar intro to the closer. It’s kind of an awkward fit, and I only mention it because the rest of Beyond the Lightless Sky flows so well on a song-by-song basis. It’s a momentary blip, and “In Death, Truth” justifies the special attention, but after the landmarks that “Fire Vein” and “False Priest” turn out to be, Hull would have a hard time reviving that energy level. Still, “In Death, Truth” proves fascinating as the guitars take a momentary step back from their prior tonal largess to off-time riffs with a more technical feel and lead gradually to an off-time break worthy of a Meshuggah comparison – Stieber seems to be keeping time on his hi-hat as much for us listening as for the band. They fade out on that chugging stomp, and finish Beyond the Lightless Sky with worthy heft and thoughtfulness.
30 seconds of silence follow, as if either to allow time to process the reality of the song’s title or perhaps give yet another break before the disc comes around to repeat and the album starts again – a sort of extra interlude for anyone who still has a CD player, at least — either way, it’s another example of how much Hull put into the construction of the album, which is unquestionably their finest work to date and one of the best balances of ambience and heaviness I’ve heard all year. By not including any lyrics with the cardboard digipak edition, they’ve made the concept behind Beyond the Lightless Sky seem purposefully vague, but the music is more than able to stand on its own. I wouldn’t be surprised if next time out, Hull stripped down their sound somewhat, as there are parts of their second album that, the first couple times through, feel almost like the band is trying to do too much (I’d say that holds true for parts of the opener and the title-track), but the individualized creativity at the songs’ core shines through nonetheless, and Beyond the Lightless Sky is all the more magnificent for its forays into excess. As someone who’s followed Hull since their inception, it’s exciting and gratifying now to witness their arrival.
Tags: Brooklyn, Hull, New York, The End Records
