Album Review: Polymoon, Chrysalis
The immediate implication of Chrysalis, the second full-length from Tampere, Finland, progressive space resonators Polymoon, is metamorphosis. Major change. Progression. One thing growing into another, and perhaps, having unveiled their debut in 2020’s Caterpillars of Creation (review here), the band are talking about themselves somewhat, setting themselves in a position of being something malleable, able to grow and assume a different form than they had in a more ‘larval’ stage.
Issued through Robotor Records — the label headed by Berlin heavy rock magnates Kadavar, whose drummer Tiger Bartelt produced and mixed Polymoon at Kadavar Studio; Janne Hakanen mastered — Chrysalis comprises six songs and stretches vast distances across 44 minutes of cosmic bursts, galloping, twisting proggy thrust and a psychedelia that, while heavy in its underpinnings and accessible through melody and the bright, sometimes blinding timbre of the guitar and synth, is nonetheless flying from the moment opener “Crown of the Universe” sweeps in on a lead guitar hook from its initial two-and-a-half-minute quiet intro of synth, guitar and vocals, with precious little letup in its push from there. It’s not until side A closer “Instar,” really, two songs later, that the tension that begins in “Crown of the Universe” is released. And that is not the last time that happens.
Polymoon leave no doubt this is on purpose, and among Chrysalis‘ great triumphs is that the returning five-piece of vocalist/synthesist Kalle-Erik Kosonen, guitarists Jesse Jaksola and Otto Kontio, bassist Juuso Valli and drummer Tuomas Heikura never lose control — and their own growth as a band is writ large across the album as one of its major themes. As alluded above, they have become another thing. They have moved forward. It’s everywhere on Chrysalis. Atmospheric as they are, Kosonen‘s vocals are both higher in the mix generally and more confident in their delivery.
This is shown quickly in “Crown of the Universe” as well, which once it kicks in sees the band rocketlaunching Songs for the Deaf-desert sprint with the lyrics urging a kind of personal/galaxial rebirth, some falsetto included from Kosonen along with guest Moog from Finnish synth-wizard Esa Kotilainen (Wigwam, Tasavallan Presidentti, etc.). Accordingly, Heikura‘s drumming would be manic in its shove behind the two guitars and bass were it not so masterfully executed, lending urgency and immediacy to “Crown of the Universe” and the subsequent, even shinier “Wave Back to Confusion” early on before the glorious nine-minute “Instar” pauses at its outset, works itself into a frenzy, and, just when you think your head is about to explode because even the quiet part is interweaving angular lines of guitar, after seven minutes in, the band finally lets it go and supernova-blasts into a rolling movement slowdown, guitar solo pulled out over interstellar plod to serve as the apex for the album’s first half. Like much of Chrysalis, it is lush and gorgeous and the band know it and built it that way on purpose.
The linear quality of the three songs working together — not linear in terms of a build within the first two tracks, necessarily, though neither wants for “get loud” at its finish — pushing and carrying the listener toward that crescendo in “Instar” is further argument for Polymoon‘s evolution as being part of the story the album is telling, and in all the tumult of their conveyance, one finds especially on repeat listens a kind of overarching pulse of life to follow in and between the songs, everything feeling connected whether it’s a synthy intro to “Instar” or the consuming swirl of “Wave Back to Confusion” just before.
And the material on side B: the outright party that is “Set the Sun”; “A Day in the Air,” which picks up from its doomed intro for a full-speed tear that’s reminiscent of nothing so much as latter-day Enslaved (and every bit worthy of the compliment in that comparison); and the corresponding nine-minute Floyd-referencing capstone “Viper at the Gates of Dawn,” is likewise communicative. Continuing on with the next stage from “Instar” — because it’s a whole-album narrative and not just something that applies to one side and then the other –the album genuinely becomes a tale of becoming, and as much for the band as anything else. It is united by Polymoon‘s apparent ability to dizzy their audience without losing their own balance in either the writing or performance, which is something that Caterpillars of Creation hinted toward but was more focused on lumber where Chrysalis genuinely seems to be breaking free of containment and running (or flying, if we’re keeping to the metaphor) loose. But “loose” doesn’t mean sloppy, just unencumbered.
They convey this while the individual members simultaneously put on a clinic in their respective crafts, whether it’s the classy fluidity with which Kontio and Jaksola interact on guitar and the attention to detail of their work there, the nuance of that interplay — not to mention whatever the hell is happening with the solos at the start of “A Day in the Air,” or Valli saving some but by no means all of the tastiest basslines for “Viper at the Gates of Dawn,” or Heikura‘s stunning performance throughout, the drums challenging every other instrument to keep up, which is a game that, thankfully, the band as a whole is prepared to play.
Together with Kosonen‘s noted progression on vocals and the abiding melody of the keys, the delicate manner in which atmospheres are concocted, the sheer wash they create at times, Polymoon are able to affect a run like that in “A Day in the Air,” building dreamily with delightful, playful misdirection toward a huge, encompassing doomly stride that’s outright heavier than they’ve been on record to-date. They rightly ride that groove to the end of the song and crash it out — you’ll note it wasn’t until track three on side A that they hit the slowdown; they’re changing up structure and how the songs function on their sides, again adding to the richness of the overall listening experience — ahead of the snare-to-start non-intro to “Viper at the Gates of Dawn,” which is soon ringing out petals of lead guitar through deceptively grounded verses in rushing-but-unrushed antimatter-fueled krautmetal fashion.
“Viper at the Gates of Dawn” summarizes well the strengths to be found throughout Chrysalis, including the flow that brings it methodically to its heavier push, echoing vocals after the two-minute mark as Kosonen recalls the falsetto he unveiled in “Crown of the Universe” and uses it in such a way as to set up a self-call-and-response before gliding over the subsequent verse. Oh, and then they start to mean business. Guitar surges forward as the vocals fade back, the solo lining up with the rhythm line, moving around it, drums and bass running alongside. The vocals come back before six minutes in, joining the build for a last chorus, a note held like they didn’t want to let it go, and then the quiet drift that might be flight moves further and further out, peaceful as it goes, offers one last moment of grace to appreciate on a record that’s already given much in that regard.
Of course, they’ve set themselves up for the third installment in the trilogy. The caterpillar crawled. The chrysalis brought change. The butterfly would seem to be the next logical step. Or maybe this story is done. I don’t know, and while speculation is fun, that’s all it is. If this an ending or a beginning — a bit of both — it is the accomplishments throughout Chrysalis in realizing an evolved vision of what Polymoon‘s debut was that are most striking, whatever potential there may also be for the band to take it a step further still. This is the kind of album that’s able to take notions and tropes of genre to places they do not often go, and to meld stylistic elements that in less capable hands would be too disparate to connect. And to do it with class, and distinction, and passion. Beautiful.
