The shamanic, Rickenbacker-shaped elephant in the room when Breath‘s Primeval Transmissions begins to unfold with “Evocation” (7:38) is Om‘s 2005 debut, Variations on a Theme (discussed here). Part of that is aesthetic, sure, as the Portland, Oregon outfit dig into heady vibes and spiritual exploration through “Evocation” and “Dwarka” (14:08), but part of it is also owed to the basic construction of the band as a bass-and-drums two-piece, which, well, if you’re going to be a meditative doom band with bass and drums, there’s a decent chance some schmo on the internet is going to come along and tell you you sound like Om.

Breath is the we’ve-been-friends-much-longer-than-we’ve-been-a-band duo of bassist/vocalist Steven O’Kelly and drummer Ian Caton (also of The Misery Men), and the Desert Records-issued Primeval Transmissions runs five tracks and 44 minutes of open-spaced hypnotic realization, but the other thing you need to know about that Om comparison is that it dissipates by the time they’re halfway through “Dwarka” as that song builds gradually from the suitably patient end of “Evocation” and rumble-lumbers into its own slow groove. The repetitions are on purpose, of course, and all part of the craft, Caton more on the bell of his ride than the crash for time-keeping, punctuating the roll with subtly vital fills as the bass tone surges in “Evocation” and comparatively mellow in the beginning of the subsequent track, though as O’Kelly‘s vocals find their way toward a rougher, more individual delivery, Caton complements that march well, captured and mixed with a due sense of open space by Witch Mountain guitarist Rob Wrong at his Wrong Way Recording studio.

Recorded, by the way, in a day. Specifically on March 20, 2020. It would not see release until Feb. 2021 — being mastered by Tad Doyle and topped by Tyler Wintermute artwork in between — but the date tells you a lot. Primarily, I have to think that some portion was tracked live. If not, kudos to the band on rolling into a studio, setting up their gear, getting drum sounds — which in many cases is a day unto itself — bass sounds, vocal sounds, then pushing through all their material one piece at a time, a process that most likely would be drums first, bass, then vocals, then other percussion like the shaker at the end of the 12-minute penultimate cut “Battle for Harmonic Balance/Halls of Amenti” (the latter portion of which is not to be confused with the Cephalic Carnage doom-minded EP of the same name). No. The fluidity throughout Primeval Transmissions, even as Wrong steps in to donate guitar to the centerpiece “Observer” (that may well have been added later) or the drums seem to be searching for the path forward around the three-minute mark’s pickup in  closer “Evocation (Reprise)” is such that if it wasn’t recorded live at least in the basic tracks, that would have been one long-ass day.

And what a day it was. Oregon was already in a state of emergency for the covid-19 pandemic, and three days later, the full stay-at-home order would be issued. Kudos to Breath for sneaking in under the wire, not that they necessarily knew that order was coming at the time. Listening to it now, it’s tempting to read some kind of restlessness or anxiety into Primeval Transmissions, like somehow the nod in “Battle for Harmonic Balance/Halls of Amenti” know that the next two years were going to be an unprecedented, multi-tiered shitshow with ramifications that will likely define a generation of humans worldwide, never mind just current bands or artists in general. But it’s not really there. And even if you wanted to call “Evocation” rushed — you’d be incorrect, but people say incorrect crap all the time — wouldn’t that more likely be traced to that whole recorded-in-a-day thing?

Further, this seems to be something Breath themselves acknowledge right up front with the title of the album. If these five songs are their ‘primeval’ stage, it leaves one wondering just what they might have in mind for future sonic expansion. There are paths forward, certainly, as Om and outfits like Zaum, Experiencia Tibetana or Centrum have found ways to own the drone and make it theirs in the wake of Om‘s stylistic innovation, though given the chemistry between O’Kelly and Caton and the nascent willingness they show to broaden the palette either with percussion, that guitar inclusion on “Observer,” or even just the emotive vocal shifts throughout, one suspects that if they’re seeking a way, they’ll seek their own. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, but with the jazz that Wrong brings to “Observer” — some tambourine in there too — and the fact that they include “Evocation (Reprise)” as a trance-inducing instrumental bookend already familiar from the beginning of the album, the impression left is of a band beginning to feel out their approach and looking to grow rather than a definitive this-is-who-we-are declaration. Hence Primeval Transmissions.

And maybe the band would tell you the process is simple — write songs, show up, record, wait 11 months through don’t-breathe-in-public virus hell, release — but that doesn’t make the material on Primeval Transmissions any less engaging, though it should go without saying that not every listener is going to be able to get on board. There’s melody in O’Kelly‘s bass that can be heard in clean and distorted tones on “Dwarka,” and whether it’s the lower-register post-Cisneros vocal of later in that song or “Evocation” before it, nothing feels so staid as to say for sure this is what it is, this is what it will be. The elements are there and solid in their respective places, but there’s an overarching amorphousness as well that makes it seem like whatever their next ‘transmission’ might be, the shapes made from those elements might change. That, by making Breath a less predictable band on their first long-player release, can only be called a strength.

Whatever will come, the wanderings of Primeval Transmissions resonate like paintings on a cave wall, speaking to some universal inward and outward flow that, if it speaks to you at all, will land deep.

As always, I hope you enjoy.

Thanks for reading.

—

So, for the better part of at least the last five years, I’ve been taking 40mg of Citalopram — an SSRI; generic for Celexa — daily as a treatment for depression. For the last five days, I’ve halved that dose with a mind toward stopping the meds altogether. I still have Xanax that I take as needed — half a whatever dose the little oval pill is at a time — and I’m content to try to roll with that at least for a bit. Since it’s a pretty regular thing and has been shown to regulate mood and mental health as well, I’ll mention my end-of-day-only THC intake.

This is either a great idea or a terrible one. I do not expect much room for middle ground between those two, because that’s kind of how my brain operates anyway. I don’t know if I’ve been more irritable this week — I’m always irritable — or any more miserable than I usually am (again, pretty fucking constant), but if you can’t perform science experiments on yourself what’s the point of even being human and if I suddenly feel the urgent desire to throw myself into oncoming traffic, well, that’s pretty much every day around 2:30PM at this point anyhow, so yeah. There are “no known” longterm side effects of Citalopram, so that’s something, but neither do I really trust the company that makes money off selling pills through my insurance to tell me if there were, because contrary to what my lies-about-snitching-ice-cream-from-the-freezer son thinks, I’m not actually that fucking stupid.

I guess I’m writing this down for myself, so I can keep track of where I’m at, but it’s better to talk about mental health shit than not. I’m 40 years old. I went to therapy for the first time at 16, started meds for the first time in college, have been on and off both since. Family history of anxiety, depression, whatever the fuck combo of OCD/on-the-spectrum/traumatized-by-his-kicked-the-shit-out-of-him-mother/utterly-broken-human-being my father was. But he was never strong enough to do anything about it, to take any steps to make his life more livable for himself. And I’m not saying I don’t get it now. I do. I’ve woken up and had my first thought of the day be, “I wish I was dead,” any number of times. But the point is you keep going, you put it into perspective with the things you’re grateful for, you take your fucking pill and your march on. You remember that music sounds good. And fuck stigma, too.

Took a pill this morning, have the other half I’ll take tomorrow, then I’ll probably let that be it for a while. I still have a bunch of the Citalopram left if I find I’m in a rough spot, but I’m going to try to let it go for a couple weeks and see where I end up. If I’m really lucky, I’ll be in crisis just in time for Psycho Las Vegas. That’d make for some solid reading, I expect. Cut my ear off and mail it to the riff from Monolord’s “To Each Their Own.”

The Patient Mrs. left a bit ago — it’s after 9AM now, I woke up at 3:30 and started this post a little after four — to go see friends in Massachusetts. I’ve got a couple people up there I wouldn’t mind visiting, but it’s an up-and-back-tomorrow kind of thing and I wouldn’t ask The Pecan to make the trip. We’re going back to the Land of Make-Believe today instead to ride the rollercoaster. Last time, we did four runs in a row on the tilt-a-whirl and I thought I was gonna die after, so we’ll see how today goes. I may or may not get to shower before that happens.

But the kid’s been a jerk all morning because he knows she won’t be around today and tomorrow and that’s how he shows his feelings which is a totally healthy pattern to be in, right? He’s sad about a thing, so throwing stuff and pinching me and, indeed, running into the street without looking is where we’re at? My best hope is to wear him out and at least if he’s super-tired, he’s easier to catch. We went for a bike ride up the big hill before. Gotta get out early in the Summer of Pivot. Camp starts never, since he got kicked out.

Though he did tell me yesterday that he wanted to go back to that camp. I think now that he’s potty trained (look at me with the bold declaration of A THING accomplished) he could probably handle it, but I told him that there was no way I’d send him back to that camp because the guy who ran it was a “baddie” who said not nice things and we’d find a different camp for next year. Until then, the not-babysitter who comes most days — she’s here now, which is how I’m finishing this — and I are pretty much camp, minus the crafts, plus more Thomas the Tank Engine which he watches on her phone. Alas. Summer of Pivot.

New Gimme show today, 5PM Eastern. I’m pretty sure nobody listens, but if you do, golly I appreciate it. http://gimmeradio.com

Next week, Birth interview goes up on Monday — haven’t done a video interview since March; something had to give [EDIT: I looked and actually it was May, so not that bad.] — and at some point I’ll review the Dreadnought album.

By the way, heads up, the new Caustic Casanova is a serious album-of-the-year contender in my book. Everybody’s feeling Chat Pile right now, and that’s cool too in that like it’s the band that Black Flag would be if Black Flag were just happening for the first time right now, but there’s so much scope in the CC record that it’s dizzying. Just letting you know. Their past work will not prepare you for it, even though it has clearly prepared them.

Great and safe weekend. Hydrate, watch your head, stay in the shade, all that. I’m gonna go shower.

FRM.

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Tags: Breath, Breath Primeval Transmissions, Desert Records, Oregon, Portland, Primeval Transmissions

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