Album Review: IAH, V

Posted in Reviews on November 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

iah v

Digitally released by the Argentina trio and due for a vinyl issue in early 2024 through Kozmik Artifactz, the fifth release from IAH, titled simply V, finds the band recommitting to their core approach while at the same time expanding their reach. The instrumentalist outfit with the returning lineup of guitarist/synthesist Mauricio Condon, bassist Juan Pablo Lucco Borlera and drummer José Landín have both pulled back into themselves as compares to 2021’s Omines (review here), which boasted collaborations with members of Poland’s Spaceslug and guest strings and was over an hour long. Two years later, IAH are able to transpose progressive textures onto their heavy riffing roots as 10-minute opener/longest track (immediate points) “Kutno” makes its impression with sharp snaps of snare and guitar/bass chug after the synthy drone intro and moves in its second half to a hypnotic and languid stretch of psychedelic contemplation before reality interrupts at 8:21 and they bookend with heavier chugging topped with a solo.

Precision and looseness. Tension and release. Severity and soothing. The band, who once again worked with co-producer Mario Carnerero at Gran Rosa Estudio, have made these essential components since their 2017 self-titled debut EP (review here), and recalls that dynamic early, with hints dropped toward progressive metal but an offsetting circle around in the central riff of “Kutno” that keeps the groove rolling. To leadoff your record with a song that takes up nearly a quarter of its 41-minute runtime is no minor choice, but IAH have a history in that regard, though “Kutno” stands out for being more relatively extended than, say, closer “Las Palabras y el Mar” at 8:45, than some other long-openers have been in the past.

What does song length tell you in this case? Primarily how long the song is. To find out just about anything else requires hearing. “Madre de los Suspiros” follows “Kutno” with a creeper line of guitar and vague whispers of noise, cymbal crashes and an emergent movement at about a minute in that is both densely weighted and hypnotic. A threatening chug is complemented by higher plucked lead notes, but those soon are swallowed by the maw of the riff brought by the next change; a declining lumber that opens to a more hopeful sans-vocal hook that it makes positively swaggering by second time through, thud of drums and echoing tones giving spaciousness that feels well earned, another late solo taking hold to sort of expand the back half as they wind down what feels like a statement of who they are as a band made to themselves as well as their audience.

A little Karma to Burn in that midsection’s willfully straightforward riffing? Maybe. But by digging as deeply as they are into their style — by doubling-down as they are, particularly after the branching out of Omines — they own it. Listening to V, IAH sound poised and confident in what they’re doing. It’s their fourth LP, and as they shift from “Madre de los Suspiros” into the quiet outset of the eight-minute “Yaldabaoth,” which follows a similar structure to “Kutno” with grounded chug shifting into a calmer middle building to an apex, but in “Yaldabaoth,” that crescendo takes the form of post-rock shimmer-sprawl, evocative even as the drums beneath keep a decent clip, and ending to fit easily with the standalone echoing guitar piece “Sono io!” (1:44), an interlude and presumed side B intro that offers emotional presence and a breather moment before the blindside punch of chug from “Sentado en el Borde de una Pregunta.”

The penultimate cut on the six-tracker brings together the chug that’s been there all the while with a more insistent thrust in the drums, feeling urgent in its first half as it touches on proggier rhythmmaking without giving up the heavy nod, until at 2:46 a crash and stop brings standalone bass deep in the mix, soon enough joined by the drums and atmospheric guitar drawn overtop. While striking on paper, the suddenness of that change when one is actually hearing the album is hardly jarring. IAH simply going from one place to another. They’ve done it several times throughout V by “Sentado en el Borde de una Pregunta,” and the intensity of their return — the album’s genuine breakout-and-run moment — is a payoff serving for more than just the lone track in question. They carry it into a long fade and synth arrives to guide the transition into “Las Palabras y el Mar,” which resets to softer guitar at its beginning.

In the incorporation of synthesizer here, IAH highlight the ambience of V and their style generally while finding a new outlet for it. “Las Palabras y el Mar” plays with the underlying structure of the tracks a bit, with a flowing start shifting into heavier guitar before three minutes in, and even as it solidifies into a chug, much of the (relative) shove behind “Sentado en el Borde de una Pregunta” has dissipated, and a meta-echo — also some real echo — of the post-rock vibe in “Yaldabaoth” reinforces the idea of cognizance on the part of the band. Which is to say, they know what they’re doing. V‘s finale drops the heft in its second half, brings some back for a not-overblown epilogue, and end with melancholy standalone guitar, resonant with effects or synth behind it and consistent in terms of mood with much of what precedes.

This is a band who have found their sound, who know it, and who have purposefully set themselves to refining it and exploring around it while holding to the sphere they’ve marked as their own. One of V‘s greatest appeals is that it paints a sustainable portrait of what they do. With five offerings in six years, IAH have worked at a prolific pace up to now and there’s nothing to say that won’t continue, but V is mature and set in itself in a way that a first or second, even a third record generally can’t be, and that maturity includes the sense of ongoing creative evolution. The synth here is an easy example, and it might be that synth becomes more of a factor in the future and it might not, but that sensibility extends to the dynamic and chemistry between the members of IAH as well as to the places their material is willing to go and the textures being explored. They have never yet been so much their own thing as they are here.

IAH, V (2023)

IAH on Facebook

IAH on Instagram

IAH on Bandcamp

IAH BigCartel store

IAH website

Kozmik Artifactz website

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IAH to Release New Album V This Sunday

Posted in Reviews on November 2nd, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Whatever else you might have on this weekend, you may want to take some time on Sunday to hit up a brand new album from increasingly progressive instrumentalist trio IAH. The band sent word through their Bandcamp page last night that they’ll release their new album, V, on Nov. 5. Last heard from with 2021’s Omines (review here), which was released through Kozmik Artifactz and featured a collaboration with members of Poland’s Spaceslug, the Argentinian three-piece toured in Europe earlier this year to support — I’m still somewhat surprised to think I’ve seen them (review here), which is genuinely not something I ever believed I would do; I was tired, but that was a good-ass day — making their second trip across the Atlantic following an initial go in 2019.

As for what to expect on V, I have some thoughts but they’re pretty general. To wit, IAH have been dug into a purposeful creative progression since their 2017 self-titled debut EP (review here) and 2018’s first-full-length follow-up, II (review here). Omines came quickly after 2020’s III (review here), but the sense of growth was palpable in the material through more than just the inclusion of vocals, and as far as hopes or expectations go, I’d think another forward step would be the thing — maybe somewhat in a darker mood, given the apparent cover art below — but you never know. Dudes could’ve gone polka metal and not told anyone. You can’t be too careful with these surprise album releases.

They don’t have any songs up yet, but uh, I think you can handle three days’ wait. Unless you’re six years old, in which case, good job reading. Go get a Rolo.

From the band:

iah v

We’re excited to share that on November 5th, we’ll be dropping our new album “V,” and we’d love for you to be there to give it a listen!

Big shoutout to all of you, and a huge thanks for your ever-support.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November…

IAH is:
Juan Pablo Lucco Borlera: Bass
Mauricio Condon: Guitar
José Landín: Drums

https://www.facebook.com/IAHBanda/
http://instagram.com/iahbanda
https://iahbanda.bandcamp.com/
http://iahbanda.com/
https://iah.bigcartel.com/

IAH, Omines (2021)

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Les Nadie Stream Destierro y Siembra Reissue (Plus Bonus Tracks) in Full

Posted in audiObelisk on March 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Les Nadie Destierro y Siembra

This week, Argentinian duo Les Nadie re-release their debut full-length, Destierro y Siembra (review here), through a veritable swath of labels: Echodelick Records in the US, Spinda Records in Spain, Psychedelic Salad Records in Australia, and Dirty Filthy Records in the UK. The level of support that’s rallied behind the first outing from the Córdoba-based two-piece of guitarist/vocalist/songwriter Juan Conde and drummer Rodri Deladerova should tell you something about the album even before you hit play on this bonus-track-inclusive reissue/first-physical-release streaming below.

Offered first by the band in 2022, it’s still a manageable 37 minutes with “Mal Viaje” (2:20) and “Hellkhan” (4:45) tacked onto the back end, and between the opening dense strums and swagger of “Grito el Indio” and the atmospheric guitar of “Venenauta” that used to close after the airy finish to the chugging “Del Pombero,” I’ll just say outright that you should consider yourself invited to hear it. If I’d had time to mail out cards, I might have. This will have to suffice.

I’ve promised myself I won’t re-review the album, and I won’t. Cut my hand open and swore a blood oath. But it doesn’t feel out of line to say that, for a record to be self-released by a band only to have four labels collaborate to pick it up and put it out less than a year later is pretty significant. The catchy melody in “Zhonda,” the way Codne and Deladerova weave in and out of riffy density and the playful desert weird of the airier guitar work. It’s the kind of record that has so much blended into it, it’s become something new, atmospherically.

And about those bonus tracks, “Mal Viaje” unfolds with a far back vocal over classically fuzzy guitar, less grunge than some of the proceedings, a stoner riff so groovy it feels like Fu Manchu wrote it circa 1995, but a drone runs throughout the entire song (it’s not long, but still) and gives it a personality of its own, while “Hellkhan” is more Kyuss in purpose and the tension in its rhythm. It also has its swirling element — effects, I think — and circles around an instrumental procession les nadieas that plays out, until just before 2:30 it drops out to a bridge to build back to full tonality (and drone) and they finish it cold.

Fair enough. Neither of the bonus tracks is knock-your-socks-off difference-maker must-own by itself — and that’s a lot to ask of studio leftovers or demos or whatever they are — but this is the first physical pressing for the album, and invariably this is the version of Destierro y Siembra most listeners will know because of that and the additional support behind the release. And neither do the bonus tracks take anything away from the original edition of the record, which is still under 40 minutes long and has what was the quiet atmospheric finish bolstered by the manner in which the mellow guitar stretch of original closer “Venenauta” meets with Deladerova‘s kick at the start of “Mal Viaje,” reinvigorating toward the next hypnotic close and that much more dynamic for how that procession plays out.

In addition to not reviewing, I’m not going to get into hyperbole about the album’s importance or the up-and-coming generation of heavy rockers in Argentina of which Les Nadie (not to be confused with Los Naides) would seem to be part — releases this year from Black Sky Giant and Moodoom and the continued success of an act like IAH, as well as a horde of other instrumentalists haunting Bandcamp also argue in favor — but suffice it to say there’s something happening there right now as there is in many other places and as the 2020s come into focus after their tumultuous and traumatic beginning, the shape that the next few years in heavy will take is being sculpted now, maybe also in Destierro y Siembra.

Not going to speak in absolutes — it’s an unpredictable world set in a universe of infinite possibilities — but part of enjoying Destierro y Siembra is wondering what Les Nadie might do from here, how they might flesh out their sound or deep-dive into the rawness that a duo configuration can provide, or both, or neither. Whatever comes, their debut is a special record and I’m glad to host it here and glad to have the excuse to listen again.

I hope you dig it:

Producido por Manu Collado en @fusisestudio (Córdoba , Argentina)

Grabación y mezcla a cargo de Manu Collado en @fusisestudio ,(Córdoba, Argentina) y Xavi Esterri Comes en @nomadstudio.es (Lleida, Catalunya) entre los meses de Marzo de 2021 y Julio de 2022.

Drum doc. Maxi Mansur

Mastering por Timone Brutti en Abdijan Studios , Lavaur, France.

Les Nadie son:
Juan Conde (guitar, voices)
Rodri Deladerova (drums)

Les Nadie on Instagram

Les Nadie on Facebook

Les Nadie on Bandcamp

Spinda Records on Facebook

Spinda Records on Instagram

Spinda Records on Bandcamp

Spinda Records website

Echodelick Records on Facebook

Echodelick Records on Instagram

Echodelick Records on Bandcamp

Echodelick Records website

Psychedelic Salad Records on Facebook

Psychedelic Salad Records on Instagram

Psychedelic Salad Records on Twitter

Psychedelic Salad Records store

Dirty Filthy Records on Facebook

Dirty Filthy Records on Instagram

Dirty Filthy Records store

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Les Nadie to Release Destierro y Siembra on Multiple Labels

Posted in Whathaveyou on February 8th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

I was not 24 hours removed from recommending this band to a friend who had just put me onto Black Sky Giant‘s new album as a candidate for the current best outfit in Argentinian heavy. A few years back, I might’ve said Certainly there are other candidates, but Les Nadie‘s Destierro y Siembra (review here) hit a nerve like few debuts do and particularly coming from a duo had a real sense of live chemistry without giving up production value. Just killer stuff. The kind of thing that maybe at least four labels would want to get behind for a proper release.

Well wouldn’t you know, that’s exactly what’s happened. Spinda Records sent the announcement below, but Psychedelic Salad in Australia, Echodelick in the States, and Dirty Filthy in the UK will also be giving a push. Psychedelic Salad and Echodelick are no strangers to collaborating (the same may be true of Dirty Filthy, I honestly don’t know) and you might recall Spinda‘s last roster-add was Bismut (info here), which was in collaboration with Lay Bare in the Netherlands. Shit is awesome, is all I’m saying. More collaboration. I don’t know what that does for the logistics of distribution, let alone anyone who works for a distributor outside the given network of ones involved in a given release, but it feels like a cool idea as a way to mitigate shipping costs to different regions while, again, everybody gets another voice behind promotion. Everybody wins.

In this case, Les Nadie do too. Their debut album will have four homes instead of just one, and there you go. Also, I think it’s hilarious that the glut of links in between the announcement text and the Bandcamp embed takes up more space than either that text or the player. You have to get your laughs where you can.

From Spinda via the PR wire:

les nadie

Spinda Records – Argentinian psych-shoegaze band Les Nadie joins the family!

As many of you, we usually discover new music thanks to different magazines, websites and podcasts… Well, back in July 2022 we were reading a review of the debut album of an Argentinian band whilst we were listening to their songs, and we simply loved it. Immediately after, we contacted them with a proposition: to reissue that album on physical format, as it was available only on digital.

That band was the power duo Les Nadie, originally formed in 2018 by two young lads that, inspired by their predecessors such as Los Natas or Los Antiguos and the vast emptiness of the desert and the northern winds of their region, started mixing heavy riffs with other passages much calmer and reverberated, getting sometimes even very close to shoegaze and psych rock.

Les Nadie joins now Spinda Records in order to finally reissue on physical format that debut album that they self-released last year. And we’ll do it in collaboration with our friends at Psychedelic Salad Records (Australia), Dirty Filthy Records (UK) and Echodelick Records (US). ‘Destierro y Siembra‘ is the name of this awesome album, and it will be out (including some surprises) this Spring!

https://www.facebook.com/lesnadie

https://www.facebook.com/SpindaRecords
https://www.instagram.com/spindarecords
https://spindarecords.bandcamp.com/
https://www.spindarecords.com/

https://www.facebook.com/ERECORDSATL
https://www.instagram.com/echodelickrecords/
https://echodelickrecords.bandcamp.com/
https://www.echodelickrecords.com/

https://www.facebook.com/psychsalad/
https://www.instagram.com/psychsalad/
https://twitter.com/psychsalad
https://psychedelic-salad.com/shop/

https://www.facebook.com/dirtyfilthyrecords/
https://www.instagram.com/dirtyfilthyrecords/
https://dirtyfilthyrecords.bigcartel.com/

Les Nadie, Destierro y Siembra (2022)

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Album Review: Les Nadie, Destierro y Siembra

Posted in Reviews on July 29th, 2022 by JJ Koczan

Les Nadie Destierro y Siembra

Destierro y Siembra is not only the debut full-length from Córdoba, Argentina, duo Les Nadie, but the band’s first release of any kind as well. Comprised of guitarist/vocalist/songwriter Juan Codne and drummer Rodri Deladerova, the seven-song offering is low on hype and big on creativity, culling together a half-hour’s worth of material that brings a striking amount of character to largely familiar elements. Right at the outset, with the manner in which the post-Melvins roll-and-crash of lead cut “Gritó el Indio” gives way to layered ethereal howls (presumably representing the titular gritó, or cry) as it moves into its middle third, guitar effects placed overtop to add to the weirdness, turning back to the main riff soon enough before picking up the speed and shifting to a modified ending, Les Nadie signal their intention toward inventive structures and an unwillingness to play by traditional verse/chorus rules that only becomes a source of strength as the rest of the release unfolds.

Only the centerpiece “Helledén” (5:38) is longer than “Gritó el Indio” (5:35), and not by much, but quickly Les Nadie‘s work becomes as much about atmosphere, if not more, as about the riffs being played or the weight of the opener’s nod. “Zhonda” follows and begins with a more urgent pace and harder hitting drums from Deladerova, Codne‘s guitar turning from the crunch to an almost-noodling-but-not-quite succession of notes in what becomes the first real verse on Destierro y Siembra, all the more effective in the clarity of its delivery with that shimmer behind it and the fact that the band have gone about seven minutes into the offering without saying a word, despite the voice-as-instrument work on the first song. The lyrics, which translate to either a request for or a story about a wind from the south coming to bring rebirth — “Viento/Del sur viento/Baja a mi encuentro/Y resurrección” — are delivered twice through before the crunch resumes, sounding all the more grunge for the held note at the finish of the second time. The duo cycle through again before building into an early payoff of groove that gets accompanied by some howls not dissimilar from those in “Gritó el Indio,” but modified in purpose, now representing the wind itself as the song comes to its sudden end and “Siembra / Destierro,” which is as close to a title-track as Destierro y Siembra gets.

The ambience and feeling of open space in the recording, reverb on the guitar, continues in “Siembra / Destierro,” offset by a more solidified, fuzzier fluidity. Again, layering is a factor in the presentation, and as Destierro y Siembra was tracked between March 2020 and July 2021 (sounds about right) at studios in Córdoba and Catalonia, working with Manu Collado and the Lleida-based Xavi Esterri in the northern part of Spain, the fluidity of that jam comes across as well-honed, Codne‘s guitar swaying through the early procession — “Siembra,” presumably — before extending the method to the vocals of the following “Destierro,” which in their drawling, bottom-mouth layers recall the darker moments of Alice in ChainsDirt over suitably heavy crashes and thuds. Thus the song ends, a final strum filling the silence before the airier, bouncing guitar figure of “Helledén” starts. After the first minute, the aforementioned centerpiece arrives at a lighthearted movement of guitar that becomes a recurring theme, balanced against jazzy jabs with vocals overtop. It is a willful contradiction of purpose that shouldn’t work but which the duo pull off readily, resolving in sweet, early Mars Red Sky rawness and melody, the guitar meandering to the end with just a flourish of cymbal wash.

les nadie words on sand

As with “Zhonda” after “Gritó el Indio,” “Babas D’Allah” follows “Helledén” with a more straight-up riff, announcing itself via dense distortion before desert-hued noodling takes hold. With no more conflict than in “Helledén,” “Babas D’Allah” basks in its point and counterpoint, each change between them highlighting the differences and the unlikely flow that results as Les Nadie shift between the one and the other, the god-slobber’s 1994-ish Fu Manchu-style heavier riff seeming to find a complement in the intro to the penultimate “Del Pombero,” which starts out organic and weighted in a nod that comes through like a response to “Gritó el Indio” and that likewise builds out some of the Mars Red Sky melodicism as it breaks from the march for its verse before resuming the procession once more, a change that’s nowhere near as stark as some of those that come before it but that nonetheless finds the guitar resting to give space to the vocals, and solo lines and rhythm tracks working in layers as Codne and Deladerova summarize a good portion of what’s worked well in Destierro y Siembra — doing whatever they want, when they want to do it. Exploratory as the album may feel, there’s no questioning the confidence in Les Nadie to pull it off. And really, that and the creativity behind it in the first place is what it takes.

So, having been up, down, fast, slow, hither, yon, the desert, the beach, the garden, the boogie van and the monster truck, they end subtle and quiet with the guitar epilogue “Venenauta,” which is some reference to poison I can’t quite place translation-wise but that underscores how much of what makes Destierro y Siembra such an engaging listen across its relatively brief span comes down to the atmosphere in the material itself. There’s pastoralism, or at least a drive toward escape in the songs, but Les Nadie are neither cloying in their use of structure — not beating you over the head with a hook — nor so psychedelic as to be tripped out to the exclusion of conscious craft. Their efforts here stand as testament to the undervalued status of South American heavy rock in the broader, worldwide underground, but more crucially and more immediately, they announce Les Nadie as a band and Codne as a songwriter looking to break from the norm of sand-worship, riff-worship, worship-worship, etc., while remaining steadfast in their use of the tenets of genre. These two sides, like the banishment and sowing in the album’s title, feel disparate, but in Les Nadie‘s capable hands are the stuff of a richness that speaks to present immersion and future possibility all at once.

Les Nadie, Destierro y Siembra (2022)

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Les Nadie on Bandcamp

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IAH Announce European Shows to Freak Valley Festival

Posted in Whathaveyou on May 24th, 2022 by JJ Koczan

iah

Only fitting that Argentina-based three-piece IAH should return to European shores in support of their most expansive album to-date. The work in question is the late-2021 highlight Omines (review here), which found their instrumentalist heavy psychedelic rock in full blossom even as they reached beyond their own confines to incorporate strings as well as vocals for the first time, the latter supplied by Jan Rutka and Kamil Ziółkowski of Poland’s Spaceslug, who, to say the least, fit well on the record’s closing title-track.

It’s not the longest tour I’ll post about this week, but you’ll note the fact that the first three of the total seven shows take place in Poland. No word on whether the band will renew that Spaceslug collaboration on stage or otherwise, but they’ll be in the neighborhood — relatively speaking, anyhow — so it’s always possible. And as it says in the headline above, the tour concludes with their slot at Freak Valley Festival in Germany, where you bet your ass I’m looking forward to seeing them, among the slew of others in that rather look-forward-to-able lineup.

Even factoring in the global pandemic, IAH have built significant momentum behind them over the last five or so years since their self-titled debut (review here). The last time they went to Europe was Summer 2019 — Paris was the same venue — so figure that had conditions permitted, they’d have gone back before now, but like that run of shows, this one has a festival as its anchor, which if you need to understand why I advocate for a different fest every weekend somewhere in Europe, should tell you everything you need to know.

Safe travels to the band. They’re among my most anticipated for my upcoming first visit to Freak Valley:

Iah euro shows

June 6 PL Warsaw Hybrydy
June 7 PL Krakow Klub Zascianek
June 8 PL Wroclaw Klub Akademia
June 10 CZ Prague Cross Clube Prague
June 13 FR Paris Supersonic
June 14 FR Strasbourg
June 18 DE Netphen Freak Valley Festival

IAH is:
Juan Pablo Lucco Borlera: Bass
Mauricio Condon: Guitar
José Landín: Drums

https://www.instagram.com/iahbanda/
https://www.facebook.com/IAHBanda/
https://iahbanda.bandcamp.com/
https://iah.bigcartel.com/

IAH, Omines (2021)

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Album Review: IAH, Omines

Posted in Reviews on November 18th, 2021 by JJ Koczan

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.

iah

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.

IAH, Omines (2021)

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Album Review: IAH, III

Posted in Reviews on September 14th, 2020 by JJ Koczan

iah iii

The instrumentalist, Córdoba, Argentina-based three-piece of guitarist Mauricio Condon, bassist Juan Pablo Lucco Borlera and drummer José Landín continue and impressive streak under the collective banner of IAH with III, their third overall release and second full-length behind 2018’s II (review here) and their 2017 self-titled EP (review here). They very clearly not only have an idea of what they’re going for in terms of their sound, but an awareness of what has worked for them leading up to this stage in their career, in terms both of aesthetic and practical considerations. III is easily the trio’s most expansive offering to-date. In its digital version, released on Sept. 11, III comprises six tracks and runs what might almost be a near-unmanageable 55 minutes were it not managed so fluidly, and finds the band continuing a collaboration sharing production duties with Mario Carnerero at 440 Estudio in Córdoba, who engineered and mixed (Magnus Lindberg mastered).

This partnership would seem to have grown more familiar over time, as III not only progresses from where IAH were two years ago in terms of patience and exploratory reach, but brings forward the varied dynamic of their sound in more expansive ways. Beginning with the 11-minute “Uaset,” III unfolds with a summary of things to come, and in so doing brings together the swath of ground IAH proceed to cover, a slow emerging of fading in effects-guitar and a shhh of cymbal wash setting an immediately atmospheric backdrop for whatever will follow. It is nearly 90 seconds into the song before the first guitar line begins, and not until 1:51 that Landín‘s drums join it, and that spaciousness established at the outset is crucial to how the entire album that follows plays out. III sees IAH dig further into heavy post-rock even than did II, as Condon‘s guitar floats over the drums and bass across the early going of “Uaset,” but the progressive metal elements that made themselves felt last time out come through as well, and the moments of solidification — all three players coming together around a single progression for however long it might be — are all the more effective for the dream-state from which they seem to take hold.

“Uaset” brings its impact in its midsection and rolls out a deeply weighted nod and chug, but ultimately recedes again, and though some residual energy is retained, it is the float that wins out in the end, carrying into the more direct tonality and riff of “Raju,” which is the shortest piece on III at 6:25 and, for a time at least, seems to reverse the structure of the opener. ‘Quiet, loud, quiet’ becomes ‘loud, quiet, loud,’ but a fourth movement is added to the mix that renews the airy sound of “Uaset” in a way that “Raju” hasn’t yet tapped. This reinforces the notion of the two songs representing a companion-type structure, and indeed, the rest of III bears that out in symmetrical fashion. What would be side A is two tracks, likewise what would be sides B and C; each one bringing together a longer cut and a shorter one as “Uaset” and “Raju” have done, with “Cilene” (10:38) and “Ennui” (8:25) proceeding from the silence at the end of “Raju” and building outward from what the opening salvo has done in terms of melody and rhythm.

Starting III‘s centerpiece movement, “Cilene” makes a case for being the most outwardly heavy of the three longer pieces — though “Lo Que Hoy es Evidente” (11:19) still has something to say about it — and has a flow to mirror that at the record’s very beginning, if one that holds more tension in the drums. The speedier motion and turn-of-phrase in the guitar circa 3:45 would seem to call out Colour Haze‘s heavy psychedelia filtered through the full-toned precision of Elder, and should meet with no complaints from fans of either, but IAH nestle into harder-edged chug before “Cilene” is done, not quite turning to doom, but riding a slower groove to its logical dissolution before going back to ground, rebuilding, and dissipating again in the last three and half minutes of the song. They do this gracefully, unhurried, and with time left over for a few seconds of contemplative silence before “Ennui” begins, its insistent first-half drum pattern and sharper guitar/bass groove tapping into Pelican/Russian Circles territory as it moves forward, but smoothing out in its second half to a middle ground topped with a solo that’s anything but staid as the title might suggest and soon bursts forward again, only to pull back once more.

Given the departure from one-word titles for the closing pair of the aforementioned “Lo Que Hoy es Evidente” and “Una Vez Fue Imaginario” (7:07), one has to wonder if they’re not to be considered bonus tracks for the digital edition of the album or if pressing a physical version has yet to be worked out. I don’t know, but the change seems purposeful one way or the other. “Lo Que Hoy es Evidente” is the longest song on III and builds up in still-linear fashion more smoothly than “Uaset” such that it’s not until the guitar and bass drop out momentarily and fire back at the six-minute mark that the real push of the 11-minute song seems to be revealed. As an apex, it is particularly hard hitting, but maintains an edge of psychedelic wash as well, which eases the transition into the comedown at the finish, which seems to wink again at Colour Haze, and moves into the near-silence that begins “Una Vez Fue Imaginario” to close out the offering. It is another full build, but a fitting one for the end, as it shifts into a post-metallic sphere and features some howling sounds in the background that, indeed, might just be vocals, if it’s not my own imagination getting the best of me.

One way or the other, they close on one of their most crushing stomps, and finish cold, leaving the silence to do the work of residual ambience, which it does. One would be remiss not to note that III was tracked in June 2020, during lockdown for the COVID-19 pandemic, and studio pictures of IAH show them wearing masks while recording. Given some of the intimacy of the quiet stretches and the manner in which the more forceful side of the band seems to feed off them, it seems fair to wonder if maybe the global situation fed into the mood of the studio time at all. I don’t know that it did, but it’s hard to imagine it wouldn’t, at least in some way. The dynamic of changing volumes isn’t necessarily new for IAH, but they do bring these shifts with an overarching melancholic sensibility, perhaps not void of hope, but looking at it from a distance. And even if that interpretation is completely inaccurate, that these pieces would evoke the question stands as testament to III‘s power to move the listener. That also is something IAH have had since their beginnings just a few years ago, but never have they sounded more resonant.

IAH, III (2020)

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