Album Review: IAH, Omines
At just 14 months removed from their second full-length, III (review here), Córdoba, Argentina, trio IAH return with their third album, Omines. It is the instrumentalists’ most evocative outing to-date, their 2017 self-titled debut EP (review here) and 2018’s II (review here) having preceded III on a steady forward progression of sound. As they step away from their numbering system — admittedly counterintuitive, since III was the sophomore LP, etc. — Omines brings an expansive collection of eight songs that runs 64 minutes and finds guitarist Mauricio Condon, bassist Juan Pablo Lucco Borlera and drummer José Landín deeply entrenched in a range of atmospheres, weighted and wistful in kind in some stretches, more brazenly heavy in others.
Their established methodology of recording live at 440 Estudio alongside producer Mario Carnerero on the recording and mix means there’s a consistency of tone and general sound between the 2020 and 2021 releases, to be sure, but there can be no question that IAH are trying new things in these tracks.
Maybe that’s most exemplified by “Brilo” and “Omines,” which would presumably end LP1 and LP2 of a double-vinyl release; tracks four and eight of eight, in any case. The former introduces Federico Dávila Kurbán on cello in its second half, having to that point dedicated itself to sampling that sounds like found audio from some dug-out playful memory — people laughing, talking, existing in a space together, which seems like a novelty given the era through which humanity has just lived and is still living — and minimal, appropriately melancholy guitar.
There are no drums, but the cello weaves around the guitar line in a way that feels especially lush despite a general lack of effects accompanying, and it sets up Kurbán‘s return on cello and piano in Omines‘ title-track, also the longest inclusion at 13:57 and bound to be a focal point of the album that bears its name for the further collaboration it brings with Jan Rutka and Kamil Ziółkowski of Poland’s Spaceslug, who both contribute the first vocals that have appeared on an IAH record, their echoing, melodic, mellow drawl fitting smoothly over the forward march of the song’s first six minutes before a stop — or at least a drop-everything-but-the-bass — brings about the next movement of the piece, which invites the cello back before proceeding to a crash to quiet, a surge to loudness, and a drift of guitar/wash of cymbal before Kurbán gives the epilogue on piano, seeming to nod at the “Moonlight Sonata” in so doing.
In such a way, “Omines” almost functions as three different songs, or at least two with the transitional piece between, but by the time it arrives, the listener has already followed IAH‘s turns and moods for an hour, and “Omines” by no means feels like too much of a leap to take all the more for the preface they give it with “Brilo.” Omines also brings a notable shift in structure, moving off from pairing longer songs with shorter ones in favor of opening with “Cernunnos” (11:19), “L’Esprit de L’Escalier” (9:09) and “Sunon” (8:07) before moving into the midsection trio of “Brilo” (4:13), “Luno” (5:41) and “Arce” (3:00), the last of which is the briefest work they’ve yet put on an album and is named presumably for Yawning Man guitarist Gary Arce, whose influence seems to be heard in the ringing resonant guitar line. With “Naga” (9:22) ahead of “Omines” (again, nearly 14 minutes), the bookended makeup of Omines is complete, and the effect of being wholly immersed in the ambience IAH have crafted is not to be understated. “Cernunnos” builds up to a heavy and ultimately defining riff, but it takes four minutes-plus to do so and it returns to that more open-feeling atmosphere after the riff cuts back out, the toms and subdued guitar and bass feeling more post-rock than anything IAH have done before.
The band’s growth in patience has been gradual from the self-titled on, and Omines is another forward step. As satisfying as it is to have the memorable central riff of “Cernunnos” kick in — starts and stops, universally well timed, feature throughout the album — “L’Esprit de L’Escalier” is a highlight because it feels more even in its procession, at least until the later slowdown transitions back to the beginning ambience as if to remind you of how far you’ve come. And as the third in the extended salvo, “Sunon” calls to mind Neurosis‘ “Reach” in the quieter guitar line that emerges about four and a half minutes in, while using that figure as a launch point for its own progressive exploration coming off the song’s still-relatively-serene midsection and transitioning fluidly into “Brilo,” which acts as a complement in terms of mood.
“Luno” begins with a stretch of soft ambience before bursting out with its heavier push, redirecting the course of Omines as a whole such that even as it shifts into, out of, and back into its own drift, it resets the listener’s position in a way that feels like a callback to “Cernunnos” without actually being one, particularly as “Arce” follows with its featured (maybe improvised?) lead line over a drone and bassline that holds its place well in the spaciousness the band create. That leaves only “Naga” ahead of “Omines,” and it becomes clear just how much of an outlier the title-track is — clever of the band to name the record after it, automatically making it crucial rather than seeming like a bonus cut tagged on the end — since it’s “Naga” that draws the front and back halves of Omines together, answering back the catchy groove of “Cernunnos” with one of its own, a chug and stretch that feels like the band filtering Karma to Burn through their own impulses. They depart following that main riff for a time, but ultimately come back around and close out with sudden snare hits, leaving the creeping guitar of “Omines” to pick up from the silence.
Which it does with a quick turn to its first verse, wasting no time in marking its place both on Omines and in IAH‘s (and Spaceslug‘s) pantheon. How that collaboration with Rutka and Ziółkowski came about, I have no idea, but “Omines” argues in favor of pushing further into that particular unknown as IAH tread their own path from release to release. Omines sees them continuing to flourish in sound, finding ways to make their airiest moments land with no less resonance than their densest-seeming. They remain likewise reliable in the quality of their craft and unpredictable as to just what they’ll do with it next.
