Album Review: Swan Valley Heights, Terminal Forest
Posted in Reviews on May 5th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The recorded-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods narrative for Swan Valley Heights‘ third album, Terminal Forest, offers quick explanation for the birdsong at the outset of opener “Microbe Galaxy,” which might seem inconsistent until one digs a little deeper into the title. I don’t know which German forest resulted in the six tracks and 46 minutes with which Swan Valley Heights follow-up their 2019 sophomore LP and first outing for Fuzzorama Records, The Heavy Seed (review here), as well as their 2016 self-titled debut (review here) on Oak Island, but the band give a duly pastoral impression in the 11-minute leadoff as homage. The phrase ‘terminal forest’ itself means a forest in the stage of sustainable, incremental sprawl over the long term; an older forest, grown through the initial rounds of grasses, bushes and trees to things like large pines and taller deciduous trees, and so on.
You see where this is going as relates to the work done by guitarist/vocalist David Kreisl, bassist Christian Schmidt and drummer/keyboardist Andy Ozbolt — they’re the forest. They’re the ones who’ve been through the process of organic growth, in their case for at least the last seven years, and who emerge with their third album backed by the lessons they’ve learned and the strong roots they’ve established. Is that what they meant by the title? Probably not, but it’s arguably applicable just the same. Indeed, Terminal Forest does blossom enriched by what Swan Valley Heights have done prior, and the sense of grace they bring to their take on warm-toned, melodic and largely mellow heavy psychedelia is something that has likewise flourished as they’ve moved forward to this point.
To wit, “Microbe Galaxy” — which one assumes is actually something pretty small in relation to an actual galaxy — runs 11:24 and is the first of three extended tracks to feature throughout Terminal Forest. Side B boasts the title-track (10:02) and closer “Star Fever” (12:20) either in succession to close the record if you have the vinyl or with the four-minute fuzz instrumental “Looking for Bird Pet” between them in the digital version, and the album as a whole uses these as not only the bulk of its expression but as landing points from which to continue to expand outward. That is to say, the three shorter pieces — “The Hunger” (5:12), “Space Bash III” (3:09) and the already-noted “Looking for Bird Pet” (4:19) — are complementary to what their longer counterparts are accomplishing, while still offering an impression of their own, whether it’s the drums making the fuzz dance on “The Hunger” or the winding and bopping procession that follows immediately and shows the guitar stepping in to lead the movement.
Terminal Forest is rife with precisely this kind of dynamic. As it unfolds through its melodic first verse peppered with stick clicks and airy guitar lines that solidify around an acoustic-inclusive movement where the lead guitar works like Colour Haze playing the bridge of the Ghostbusters theme — that sounds like I’m ragging on it; let me be clear and say I’m not — “Microbe Galaxy” sets a patient and flowing atmosphere that hold firm even for the crunchiest stretches of fuzz in it or the culmination payoffs of “The Hunger” or “Looking for Bird Pet,” “Terminal Forest” or “Star Fever” after.
And ultimately, it is the flow that defines the album; the smoothness and ease with which Swan Valley Heights foster an overarching impression while each piece explores a space of its own, however long that may or may not be. “Space Bash III,” for example — and no, I don’t think there’s a “Space Bash I” or “Space Bash II”; maybe someday we’ll get prequels in the trilogy — is the shortest of the inclusions, but it stands out with the twisting movement of its riff and the airy lead lines around it, neither the first nor last time the band seem to reference what-coulda-been Dutch heavy psych rockers Sungrazer in the proceedings, as the drift and nod of the early going of “Terminal Forest” feels specifically in conversation with the subdued verses of that band’s “Somo,” never mind the consuming fullness of tone that ensues from there, but in Kreisl‘s vocal echo and the easy movement between loud and quiet parts, Swan Valley Heights own the moment, resolving the title-track with building intensity around a circular movement until slamming shut at nine minutes and opening wide from there into a final chorus calling up from under the weight of guitar and bass.
On a lot of records, “Microbe Galaxy” or “Terminal Forest” would be a finale or a crowning achievement wherever else they might be placed in the tracklisting, but after the palette-cleansing roll and riffy jam of “Looking for Bird Pet” — in which genuine-sounding laughter can be heard off-mic before it gets loud for the second time — delves into momentary noodle-prog hypnosis and clears its head with one more wash of fuzz before the drone at the outset of “Star Fever” announces the arrival of the album’s best argument for being about itself; that is, the point at which Swan Valley Heights most enunciate their to-this-point development as a group. A long stretch of intertwining guitar and keys moves subtly toward the inclusion of drums and bass at two minutes in. They’ll soon enough get into the handclaps and surges of fuzz and layered vocal melody — have I mentioned the fuzz? oh, only 15 times? well it’s worth a 16th mention — but they do return to that spaceout, adding vocals later as a precursor to the surprising rager of a solo and the saved-the-biggest-for-last nod that caps “Star Fever” and Terminal Forest as a whole.
There and everywhere throughout Terminal Forest, Swan Valley Heights are thoughtful in their approach and considered in their presentation without losing the natural spirit required for this kind of heavy psych. As a result, they’re not so much playing to style as letting style play to them. Generally speaking, this is not the work of first or second full-lengths, so maybe it’s true that Terminal Forest is the stylistic endgame for the band, but given the linear trajectory of their releases up to now, the fact that they take their time both within and between them, and the apparent commitment to sonic evolution on display in this material as it relates to their past output, it doesn’t seem likely they’ve finished exploring. Terminal Forest demonstrates nascent mastery in Swan Valley Heights‘ ability to careen so fluidly between parts and entire songs, and taken front-to-back, it should go without saying that it’s the high point of their tenure to-date. But, part of what makes it so striking is that it doesn’t actually sound ‘terminal’ in that regard. From seed to forest and toward who knows what, they might just keep growing.
Swan Valley Heights, Terminal Forest (2023)
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