Posted in Whathaveyou on January 25th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Polymoon smack of brilliance. Like, right upside your head. The Finnish not-upstart-for-much-longer prog-psych troupe have unveiled their video for “Set the Sun,” the second single from their upcoming sophomore long-player, Chrysalis, and it’s a beautiful bit of aural wash krautmetal, feverish in its affect but controlled in terms of performance even as it pushes toward its dramatic apex, conveying the sense of transition happening across the record in a surge of volume that, well, whatever space you can give it, give it and know that by the time the near-seven minutes are up, you won’t regret having done so.
Chrysalis is out Feb. 17. I’ve booked out Feb. 7 to review it and no, I don’t think there’s going to be a premiere with that or anything, but it’s a deep record and I want to try to give it its due anyhow, since it’s very clear to me in listening that a lot of love went into making it. I think you can hear some of that in “Set the Sun,” about which you can read more in the blue text off the PR wire, and for which you can find the video at the bottom of this post. Note that Marco Menestrina of Kaleidobolt helped make it. Figures Polymoon and Kaleidobolt would be buds. I’m sure there’s a ‘New Wave of…’ joke to be made there, but frankly even those two groups are too distinct to really be part of a wave. I’m just glad they exist.
Take a step into the unknown and dive into the second single from Polymoon’s highly anticipated sophomore album “Chrysalis”. “Set The Sun” takes a heavier turn both sonically and visually and spirals into the world of figure skating.
The second appetizer from Polymoon’s sophomore album “Chrysalis” will be available in visual form this Friday. The second single “Set The Sun” will be available on all streaming platforms on the 20th of January. “Chrysalis” will be released by Berlin-based and Kadavar driven label Robotor Records on the 17th of February, 2023.
“Set The Sun” is the second single from the forthcoming album “Chrysalis” and is accompanied by a music video directed, filmed and edited by Polymoon members Kalle-Erik Kosonen, Jesse Jaksola and Marco Menestrina. In the music video, Polymoon guitarist Jesse Jaksola wanders around an eerie wintery forest on a bicycle before seeing his life flash before his eyes. However, the ephemeral vision takes him to a whole another world. Check it out below.
“‘In this song, the second phase of metamorphosis has begun and the golden chrysalis starts to form around the character. The song is a depiction of depression and closing into the shell. There is a party for one in a golden room inside one’s mind.
Set The Sun is musically the heaviest song of the album. It goes hand in hand with the lyrics, from sanity to insanity. It is dark and majestic. You’ll find yourself singing the lyrics with a smile on your face and you have no idea why. We wanted to create a beautiful and dreamy music video that has contrast to the heaviness of the song.
The progressive and heavy rock genre we represent has maintained a rather traditional and one-dimensional image of what kind of art and for what kind of audience is made within the genre. Through our visual expression, we want to break the structures of a genre perceived as strongly masculine and with our own contribution make the scene safe and easily approachable for all listeners.”
“Chrysalis” – out February 17 – follows Polymoon’s critically acclaimed debut album “Caterpillars Of Creation” that was released in 2020. The new album is set to be released while the band is on tour, performing alongside the Finnish psychedelic rock group Death Hawks with announced dates in early 2023.
POLYMOON is: Tuomas Heikura / Drums Jesse Jaksola / Guitar Otto Kontio / Guitar Kalle-Erik Kosonen / Vocals, Synthesizer Juuso Valli / Bass
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 30th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
The video at the bottom of this post for the new Polymoon single “Wave Back to Confusion” — because surely confusion is waving at us — carries with it the first audio from the band’s upcoming second album, Chrysalis. To be released Feb. 17, 2023 — the future! — it is the follow-up to Caterpillars of Creation (review here), the Tampere, Finland, outfit’s wildly impressive debut full-length, and a record they seem intent on blowing out the airlock with the cosmic and progressive heavy rock on display throughout its progeny.
In five minutes, Polymoon assure of progressive intent and craft through the purposefulness with which they approach space rock, setting alight the psychedelia that defined the already-multifaceted Caterpillars of Creation with shimmering tonality and a gonna-just-spread-this-sound-out-all-over-right-here mindset that speaks to both their ongoing search for new ground and their mastery over the terrain they currently occupy. Feels needless to say, but I look forward to more.
February is a whole season away, but especially since Polymoon are touring in October, one somehow doubts this will be the last time they’re heard from before Chrysalis arrives as their first offering through Robotor Records.
Said label was kind enough to shoo this down the PR wire:
Polymoon – Chrysalis
Berlin-based label Robotor Records to release Polymoon’s first single Wave Back To Confusion on the Friday 30th of September.
The first appetizer from Polymoon’s sophomore album Chrysalis will soon be available in visual form. The first single from the forthcoming album called Wave Back To Confusion will be available on all platforms on the 30th of September. Chrysalis will be released by Robotor Records on the 17th of February, 2023.
Polymoon have since their inception strived to encapsulate their psychedelic vision into a concrete form, the first result of which was their critically acclaimed debut album Caterpillars of Creation released via Svart Records in the fall of 2020. Polymoon have since then honed their vision and signed a pact with Robotor Records. Polymoon’s second musical manifestation will be released through Robotor Records on the 17th of February, 2023.
“Wave Back To Confusion is a song about drowning and letting things go. Through purifying drowning, all vanities disappear and the purpose of life is revealed. Listen to the song and you will find yourself swimming among sparkling lakes made of stars and blissful nuclear explosions full of colors.”
Polymoon is a rock band from Tampere, Finland where it was formed in the autumn of 2018. Polymoon’s unique sound draws from various influences, including psychedelic rock, progressive rock and shoegaze. Since its formation, Polymoon has aimed to lift the listener to a higher level of existence through the aural combination of euphoria and melancholia. On their debut album, Polymoon strived to lure their listeners towards them, to join them behind their secretive veil.
But Polymoon is this formless entity no more. On their second album the clandestine curtains have been opened: embrace the second phase of Polymoon’s metamorphosis where everything is exposed and nothing is hidden anymore. The chrysalis is opening and the newly-formed wings are slowly unfolding. Old conventions have been blown to pieces and the shell is cracking. The rays of light are shining through more brightly than ever before. Be prepared to dance.
Upcoming Polymoon gigs: 30.9. Lost In Music Festival / G Livelab, Tampere 7.10. Lepakkomies, Helsinki 8.10. Vastavirta, Tampere 12.10. Schaubude, Kiel 13.10. Café Mukkes, Leeuwarden 14.10. TBA 15.10. De Onderbroek, Nijmegen 16.10. Desertfest Antwerp 18.10. C.Keller & Galerie Markt 21, Weimar 19.10. Zukunft Am Ostkreuz, Berlin 20.10. Warsztat, Kraków 21.10. Lemmy, Kaunas 22.10. Depo, Riika 23.10. Sveta Baar, Tallinna
POLYMOON is: Tuomas Heikura / Drums Jesse Jaksola / Guitar Otto Kontio / Guitar Kalle-Erik Kosonen / Vocals, Synthesizer Juuso Valli / Bass
Posted in Reviews on September 19th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Oh hello. I didn’t see you there. What, this? Oh, this is just me hanging out about to review 100 records in 10 days’ time. Yup, it’s another double-wide Quarterly Review, and I’m telling myself that no, this isn’t just how life is now, that two full weeks of 10 reviews per day isn’t business as usual, but there’s an exceptional amount of music out there right now, and no, this isn’t even close to all of it. But I’m doing my best to keep up and this is what that looks like.
The bottom line is the same as always and I’ll give it to you up front and waste no more time: I hope you enjoy the music here and find something to love.
So let’s go.
Quarterly Review #01-10:
Yatra, Born into Chaos
The partnership between Chesapeake extremists Yatra and producer Noel Mueller continues to bear fruit on the band’s fourth album and first for Prosthetic Records. Their descent from thick, nasty sludge into death metal is complete, and songs like “Terminate by the Sword” and “Terrorizer” have enough force behind them to become signature pieces. The trio of Dana Helmuth (guitar/vocals), Maria Geisbert (bass) and Sean Lafferty (drums, also Grave Bathers) have yet to sound so utterly ferocious, and as each of their offerings has pushed further into the tearing-flesh-like-paper and rot-stenched realms of metal, Born into Chaos brings the maddening intensity of “Wrath of the Warmaster” and the Incantation-worthy chug of closer “Tormentation,” with massive chug, twisting angularity and brain-melting blasts amid the unipolar throatripper screams from Helmuth (reminds at times of Grutle Kjellson from Enslaved), by now a familiar rasp that underscores the various violences taking place within the eight included tracks. I bet they get even meaner next time,. That’s just how Yatra do. But it’ll be a challenge.
Part of the fun of a new Sula Bassana release is not knowing what you’re going to get, and Nostalgia, which is built from material recorded between 2013-’18 and finished between 2019-’21, is full of surprises. The heavy space grunge of lead cut “Real Life,” which along with its side A companion “We Will Make It” actually features vocals from Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt himself (!), is the first here but not the last. That song beefs up early Radiohead drudgery, and “We Will Make It” is like what happens when space rock actually gets to space, dark in a way but expansive and gorgeous. Side B is instrumental, but the mellotron in “Nostalgia” — how could a track called “Nostalgia” not have mellotron? — goes a long way in terms of atmosphere, and the 10-minute “Wurmloch” puts its well-schooled krautrockism to use amid melodic drone before the one-man-jam turns into a freakout rager (again: !), and the outright beautiful finisher “Mellotraum” turns modern heavy post-rock on its head, stays cohesive despite all the noise and haze and underscores the mastery Schmidt has developed in his last two decades of aural exploration. One wonders to what this sonic turn might lead timed so close to his departure from Electric Moon and building a Sula live band, but either way, more of this, please. Please.
Continuing a streak of working with highly-respected imprints, Finland’s Garden of Worm release their third album, the eight-song/43-minute Endless Garden, through Nasoni Records after two prior LPs through Shadow Kingdom and Svart, respectively. There have been lineup changes since 2015’s Idle Stones (review here), but the band’s classically progressive aspects have never shone through more. The patient unfolding of “White Ship” alone is evidence for this, never mind everything else that surrounds, and though the earlier “Name of Lost Love” and the closer “In the Absence of Memory” nod to vintage doom and the nine-minute penultimate “Sleepy Trees” basks in a raw, mellow Floydian melody, the core of the Tampere outfit remains their unpredictability and the fact that you never quite know where you’re going until you’re there. Looking at you, “Autumn Song,” with that extended flute-or-what-ever-it-is intro before the multi-layered folk-doom vocal kicks in. For over a decade now, Garden of Worm have been a well kept secret, and honestly, that kind of works for the vibe they cast here; like you were walking through the forest and stumbled into another world. Good luck getting back.
Untethered by genre and as unorthodox as ever, Sevilla, Spain, weirdo doom heroes Orthodox return with Proceed after four years in the ether, and the output is duly dug into its own reality of ritualism born more of creation than horror-worship across the six included songs. “Arendrot” carries some shade from past dronings, and certainly the opener before it is oddball enough, with its angular riffing and later, Iberian-folk-derived solo, but there’s a straigter-forward aspect to Proceed as well, the vocals lending a character of noise rock and less outwardly experimentalist fare. “Rabid God” brings that forward with due intensity before the hi-hat-shimmy-meets-cave-lumber-doom “Starve” and the lurching/ambient doomjazz “The Son, the Sword, the Bread” set up the 10-minute closer “The Long Defeat,” which assures the discomforted that at least at some point when they were kids Orthodox listened to metal. Righteously individual, their work isn’t for everyone, and it’s by no means free of indulgence, but in 42 minutes, Orthodox once again stretch the limits of what doom means in a way that most bands wouldn’t dare even if they wanted to, and if you can’t respect that, then I’ve got nothing for you.
Fifty years from now, some brave archivalist soul is going to reissue the entire catalog of Lima, Peru’s Matus and blow minds far and wide. A follow-up to 2013’s Espejismos (review here), Espejismos II brings theremin-laced vintage Sabbath rock vibes across its early movements, going so far as to present “Umbral / Niebla de Neón” in mono, while the minute-and-a-half-long “Los Ojos de Vermargar (Early Version)” is pure fuzz and the organ-laced “Hada Morgana (Early Instrumental Mix)” — that and “Umbra; / Niebla de Neón” appeared in ‘finished versions on 2015’s Claroscuro (review here); “Summerland” dates back to 2010’s Más Allá Del Sol Poniente (review here), so yes, time has lost all meaning — moves into the handclap-and-maybe-farfisa-organ “Canción para Nuada,” one of several remixes with rerecorded drums. “Rocky Black” is an experiment in sound collage, and “Misquamacus” blends acoustic intricacy and distorted threat, while capper “Adiós Afallenau (Version)” returns the theremin for a two-minute walk before letting go to a long stretch of silence and some secret-track-style closing cymbals. The best thing you can do with Matus is just listen. It’s its own thing, it always has been, and the experimental edge brought to classic heavy rock is best taken on with as open a mind as possible. Let it go where it wants to go and the rewards will be plenty. And maybe in another five decades everyone will get it.
Offset by interludes like the classical-minded “Aversion” or the bass-led “Reprobation,” or even the build-up intro “S.Z.,” the ritual doom nod of Swiss five-piece Shrooms Circle‘s The Constant Descent is made all the more vital through the various keys at work across its span, whether it’s organ or mellotron amid the lumbering weight of the riffs. “Perpetual Decay” and its companion interlude “Amorphous” dare a bit of beauty, and that goes far in adding context and scope to the already massive sounding “The Unreachable Spiral” and the subtle vocal layering in “The Constant Descent.” Someone in this band likes early Type O Negative, and that’s just fine. Perhaps most of all, the 11-song/48-minute The Constant Descent is dynamic enough so that no matter where a given song starts, the listener doesn’t immediately know where it’s going to end up, and taking that in combination with the command shown throughout “Demotion,” “Perpetual Decay,” the eight-minute “Core Breakdown” and the another-step-huger finale “Stagnant Tide,” Shrooms Circle‘s second album offers atmosphere and craft not geared toward hooking the audience with catchy songwriting so much as immersing them in the mood and murk in which the band seem to reside. If Coven happened for the first time today, they might sound like this.
I’m gonna tell you straight out: Don’t write this shit off because Goatriders is a goofy band name or because the cover art for their second album, Traveler, is #vanlife carrot gnomes listening to a tape player on a hillside (which is awesome, by the way). There’s more going on with the Linköping four-piece than the superficialities make it seem. “Unscathed” imagines what might have happened if Stubb and Hexvssel crossed paths on that same hill, and the album careens back and forth smoothly between longer and shorter pieces across 50 engrossing minutes; nature-worshiping, low-key dooming and subtly genre-melding all the while. Then they go garage on “The Garden,” the album seeming to get rawer in tone as it proceeds toward “Witches Walk” and the a capella finish in “Coven,” which even that they can’t resist blowing out at the end. With the hypnotic tom work and repeat riffing of the instrumental “Elephant Bird” at its center and the shouted culminations of “Goat Head Nebula” and “Unscathed,” the urgent ritualizing of “Snakemother” and the deceptive poise at the outset with “Atomic Sunlight,” Traveler finds truth in its off-kilter presentation. You don’t get Ozium, Majestic Mountain and Evil Noise on board by accident. Familiar as it is and drawing from multiple sides, I’m hard-pressed to think of someone doing exactly what Goatriders do, and that should be taken as a compliment.
At the tender age of 80, bizarrist legend Arthur Brown — the god of hellfire, as the cover art immediately reminds — presents Long Long Road to a new generation of listeners. His first album under his own name in a decade — The Crazy World of Arthur Brown released Gypsy Voodoo (can you still say that?) in 2019 — and written and performed in collaboration with multi-instrumentalist Rik Patten, songs like “Going Down” revisit classic pageantry in organ and horns and the righteous lyrical proclamations of the man himself, while “I Like Games” toys with blues vibes in slide acoustic, kick drum thud and harmonica sleazenanigans, while the organ-and-electric “The Blues and Messing Round” studs with class and “Long Long Road” reminds that “The future’s open/The past is due/In this moment/Where everything that comes is new,” a hopeful message before “Once I Had Illusions (Part 2)” picks up where its earlier companion-piece left off in a manner that’s both lush and contemplative, more than a showpiece for Brown‘s storytelling and still somehow that. His legacy will forever be tied to The Crazy World of Arthur Brown‘s late-1960s freakery, but Long Long Road is the work of an undimmed creative spirit and still bolder than 90 percent of rock bands will ever dare to be.
Ultimately, whether one ends up calling Green Sky Accident‘s Daytime TV progressive psychedelia, heavier post-rock or some other carved-out microgenre, the reality of the 10-song/50-minute Apollon Records release is intricate enough to justify the designation. Richly melodic and unafraid to shimmer brightly, cuts like “Point of No Return” and the later dancer “Finding Failure” are sweet in mood and free largely of the pretense of indie rock, though “Insert Coin” and the penultimate piano interlude “Lid” are certainly well dug-in, but “Sensible Scenes,” opener “Faded Memories,” closer “While We Lasted” and the ending of “Screams at Night” aren’t lacking either for movement or tonal presence, and that results in an impression more about range underscored by songwriting and melody than any kind of tonal or stylistic showcase. The Bergen, Norway, four-piece are, in other words, on their own trip. And as much float as they bring forth, “In Vain” reimagines heavy metal as a brightly expressive terrestrial entity, a thing to be made and remade according to the band’s own purpose for it, and the title-track similarly balances intensity with a soothing affect. I guess this is what alt rock sounds like in 2022. Could be far worse, and indeed, it presents an ‘other’ vision from the bulk of what surrounds it even in an underground milieu. On a personal level, I can’t decide if I like it, and I kind of like that about it.
Pure Land Stars, Trembling Under the Spectral Bodies
With members of Cali psych-of-all explorers White Manna at their core, Pure Land Stars begin a series called ‘Altered States’ that’s a collaboration between Centripetal Force and Cardinal Fuzz Records, and if you’re thinking that that’s going to mean it’s way far out there, you’re probably not thinking far enough. Kosmiche drones and ambient foreboding in “Flotsam” and “3rd Grace” make the acoustic strum of “Mountains are Mountains” seem like a terrestrial touch-down, while “Chime the Kettle” portrays a semi-industrial nature-worship jazz, and “Jetsam” unfolds like a sunrise but if the sun suddenly came up one day and was blue. “Lavendar Crowd” (sic) turns the experimentalism percussive, but it’s that experimentalism at the project’s core, whether that’s manifest in the nigh-on-cinematic “Dr. Hillarious” (sic) or the engulf-you-now eight-minute closer “Eyes Like a Green Ceiling,” which is about as far from the keyboardy kratrock of “Flotsam” as the guitar effects and improvised sounding soloing of “Jetsam” a few tracks earlier. Cohesive? Sure. But in its own dimension. I don’t know if Pure Land Stars is a ‘band’ or a one-off, but they give ‘Altered States’ a rousing start that more than lives up to the name. Take a breath first. Maybe a drink of water. Then dive in.
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 25th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Tampere, Finland, heavy psych proggers Polymoon have a slew of live dates set up in Europe for October around a slot at Desertfest Belgium in Antwerp. There are club dates and a couple TBAs, as will happen, but it’s a fitting answer to the tour the five-piece did this past Spring supporting their 2020 debut album, Caterpillars of Creation (review here), which came out on Svart and found the band last year getting picked up by Robotor Records, the label run by Kadavar.
In style and substance, that’s a good fit. And I’ve been kind of hoping that Polymoon would get down to business on a follow-up to Caterpillars of Creation sometime soon, but neither will I begrudge them giving the first record its due. Not their fault that’s happening two years later. Let the album come in 2023 if that’s when it comes. And maybe it’s not, mind you. I have no idea.
I’m just a caveman, and so on.
From the PR wire:
POLYMOON – BATTLING SLAKES TOUR 2022
Polymoon, whose debut album Caterpillars of Creation garnered international recognition and praise, announces an European tour.
Polymoon released their debut album Caterpillars Of Creation in the fall of 2020 through Svart Records and later signed to the German Robotor Records. The European tour is called the Battling Snakes Tour and it is set to happen in October 2022. During the tour the band will perform at Desertfest Antwerp, among others!
Polymoon is a quintet based in Tampere, Finland. Since 2019, they’ve adventured in the blossoming psychedelic music scene of Finland where the band is known for its energetic and spectacular live performances. In the music of the band, both euphoria and melancholy are merged guiding the listener to a new level of being – to embrace the psychedelic monolith.
The band’s debut album Caterpillars Of Creation, released through Svart Records, saw the light of day in September 2020, gathering attention around the world. At the end of the year, Caterpillars Of Creation found its way to a dozen “Best of 2020” lists and received a vast array of excellent reviews. During the spring of 2022, Polymoon did its initial live experimentations outside of Finland. These included performances at Sonic Whip and Desertfest Berlin. During the pandemic, the band performed at the online version of the legendary Roadburn Festival (Redux).
The band, who quickly sold out the first edition of their debut album, signed a recording contract in the summer of 2021 with German Robotor Records, led by the band Kadavar.
Battling Snakes Tour 2022: Fri 7.10. Lepakkomies, Helsinki Sat 8.10. Vastavirta, Tampere Wed 12.10. Schaubude, Kiel Thu 13.10. TBA Fri 14.10. TBA Sat 15.10. De Onderbroek, Nijmegen Sun 16.10. Desertfest Antwerp Tue 18.10. C.Keller, Weimar Wed 19.10. Zukunft Am Ostkreuz, Berlin Thu 20.10. Klub RE, Kraków Fri 21.10. Lemmy, Kaunas Sat 22.10. Depo, Riga Sun 23.10. Sveta Baar, Tallinn
POLYMOON is: Tuomas Heikura / Drums Jesse Jaksola / Guitar Otto Kontio / Guitar Kalle-Erik Kosonen / Vocals, Synthesizer Juuso Valli / Bass
Resoundingly bleak Finnish experimentalists Vorare will release their debut album, Voyeur, on Aug. 30 through Total Dissonance Worship. The eight-song/41-minute here’s-a-carcass-style offering follows behind the Tampere two-piece of EV and EH‘s first EP, The Drainage Rituals (review here), and its willfully dreadful, abrasive sprawl codifies much of what the prior release had to offer, the band creating a sound that is as extreme as any of the most aggro heavy metals, but fits neatly alongside none of them. Crashes and punch of industrial beats meet with piercing high-pitched noise, the is-it-on ambient minimalism in the pre-swell moments of the title-track, the biting insect wash that ensues, and anywhere you try to find safe ground on Voyeur, the floor collapses from underneath. Punishing. At times genuine aural horror. Brutal in its worldmaking.
The video for “Floodmines” asks an important question that applies to the rest of Voyeur around it, which is what do you do when even the light won’t save you? Imagine yourself out for a hike on a gorgeous and sunny day. You come into a clearing from a forest of gorgeous evergreens into some tall grasses, and just as you’re thinking you’re glad you splurged for the good boots, you find two beige-cloaked figures standing completely still, staring directly at you as the wind blows by. There’s going to be a moment of panic and surprise, even before you get to fight or flight, as your brain processes what you’re seeing and interprets the utter terror of the possibilities derived from it. Take that moment, stretch it out across the entire droning four minutes of drum-backed noise and deep, deep-placed creeper keyboard or guitar — I’m not even sure what that is, but it’s there for a while in the middle of the song before it all collapses into the last drones — and then stretch it further across the rest of the record. That’s not to say it all sounds the same — there’s any number of places to start when flaying your listener’s illusions of security in this world — but “Floodmines” represents the ethic that seems to unite the material despite the different angles EV and EH (who between them have a pedigree that includes Mireplaner, Fargue, Fawn Limbs, Positiivinen Ongelma and probably more just in the last few years) use to approach their task.
Their purposeful use of empty space throughout is a strength. Beginning with the immersive two-song salvo of “This Body Aweigh” and the already noted title-track — two of only three songs to top six minutes long; the other is closer “Barren,” which stands testament to intentional sequencing — and across the would-be-primitive-were-it-not-so-progressive dancing-in-water-with-weights-on beat pulsations and various howling musical animalia of “A Mountain Hewed of Light” and the intermittently chaotic “Tarnished Nature,” which, like the subsequent “Floodmines” feels improvised in some of its synth layers, Voyeur might periodically just blank out to silence or near-silence, and the effect can be as jarring as the high-frequency stabs that ensue all the while and seem to come even more forward on “Orifice Carver,” “They Are Here” and “Barren” on side B. It’s one of the ways in which Vorare create this unsettling space, where one never quite understands where they are or what might be coming, but the feeling of threat is the universal, whether it’s the industrial collapse of “They Are Here” or the volume trades of “Tarnished Nature” or the overwhelming feeling of burning in “This Body Aweigh” for about a minute in the first half of the song before that too caves in on itself and moves elsewhere, vocals trading between higher and lower screams and growls in the meantime. These all come together and feed the violence of the atmosphere. Clearly the dead were lucky in whatever apocalypse just took place.
But there’s life in here as well, represented not so much in the vocals that may or may not be included/needed in a given piece — singles are decent for building anticipation and spreading the word about a release, but Voyeur very much deserves to be listened to in its entirety, by those who can make it through front-to-back, anyhow — but in some of the harshest stretches of noise, as beneath the blowout vocal layers on “Voyeur,” where the synth line changes subtly to represent the foundation of craft here. That is, it’s impossible to listen to Voyeur especially after The Drainage Rituals (which was recorded after but released first) earlier this year and call it coincidence or a one-off. There is a plan at work, a style being cultivated as though from the earth and shaped into what Vorare want it to be, these discomfiting sculptures of manipulated sound. EH and EV have already begun to refine — such as the word applies — their take, and I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do to halt that process. I’d tell you to be forewarned, but if you can dig into it, you won’t need the warning, and if you can’t, you’ve already stopped reading. So there.
Enjoy:
Vorare, “Floodmines” video premiere
“Floodmines” is the second single taken from our upcoming full-length “Voyeur”, out on August 30 in collaboration with Total Dissonance Worship. Preorder here: https://linktr.ee/vorare
VORARE is a fresh entity formed by two individuals destined to mold a spiritual and holistic aural and visual experience out of leanings falling to the spectrum of drone-doom, noise, industrial, and electronic music. The pair’s experimental tendencies first took shape in the form of Voyeur, that’s to be released on August 30 in collaboration with Total Dissonance Worship.
Voyeur was composed and recorded within the span of five days this January, at a snow-barred cabin in the woods, in the middle of nowhere. Due to logistics, VORARE postponed the release of the album, and compensated this delay with the release of The Drainage Rituals this May. While this later-conceived EP was deeply rooted in evolving ambiances and tonal control, Voyeur is a brutally primitive and exceedingly aggressive pathos to the point of surpassing caustic proportions.
VORARE’s leading motif is to enthrall the listener with delicate sound design and shroud them with brute force, keeping the listener’s emotions hostage while engulfing them fully with their abstract and abrasive noisescapes. Stylistically spanning from drone-doom to harsh noise and even industrial-tinged IDM, VORARE always leads with the experimentation and notion of avant-garde firmly on the forefront, from the initial instrumentation and compositions to the ultimate aesthetic.
1. This Body Aweigh 2. Voyeur 3. A Mountain Hewed of Light 4. Tarnished Nature 5. Floodmines 6. Orifice Carver 7. They Are Here 8. Barren
Here begins day two of 10. I don’t know at what point it occurred to me to load up the Quarterly Review with killer stuff to make it, you know, more pleasant than having it only be records I feel like I should be writing about, but I’m intensely glad I did.
Seems like a no brainer, right? But the internet is dumb, and it’s so easy to get caught up in what you see on social media, who’s hyping what, and the whole thing is driven by this sad, cloying FOMO that I despise even as I participate. If you’re ever in a situation to let go of something so toxic, even just a little bit and even just in your own head — which is where it all exists anyhow — do it. And if you take nothing else from this 100-album Quarterly Review besides that advice, it won’t be a loss.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Magnatar, Crushed
Can’t say they don’t deliver. The eight-song/38-minute Crushed is the debut long-player from Manchester, New Hampshire’s Magnatar, and it plays to the more directly aggressive side of post-metallic riffing. There are telltale quiet stretches, to be sure, but the extremity of shouts and screams in opener “Dead Swan” and in the second half of “Crown of Thorns” — the way that intensity becomes part of the build of the song as a whole — is well beyond the usual throaty fare. There’s atmosphere to balance, but even the 1:26 “Old” bends into harsh static, and the subsequent “Personal Contamination Through Mutual Unconsciousness” bounces djent and post-hardcore impulses off each other before ending up in a mega-doom slog, the lyric “Eat shit and die” a particular standout. So it goes into “Dragged Across the Surface of the Sun,” which is more even, but on the side of being pissed off, and “Loving You Was Killing Me” with its vastly more open spaces, clean vocals and stretch of near-silence before a more intense solo-topped finish. That leaves “Crushed” and “Event Horizon” to round out, and the latter is so heavy it’s barely music and that’s obviously the idea.
Three longform cosmic rock excursions comprise Wild Rocket‘s Formless Abyss — “Formless Abyss” (10:40), “Interplanetary Vibrations” (11:36) and “Future Echoes” (19:41) — so lock in your harness and be ready for when the g-forces hit. If the Dubliners have tarried in following-up 2017’s Disassociation Mechanics (review here), one can only cite the temporal screwing around taking place in “Interplanetary Vibrations” as a cause — it would be easy to lose a year or two in its depths — never mind “Future Echoes,” which meets the background-radiation drone of the two inclusions prior with a ritualized heft and slow-unfurling wash of distortion that is like a clarion to Sagan-headed weirdos. A dark-matter nebula. You think you’re freaked out now? Wild Rocket speak their own language of sound, in their own time, and Formless Abyss — while not entirely without structure — has breadth enough to make even the sunshine a distant memory.
An awaited debut full-length from Brooklyn multimedia artist/producer Brandon Gallagher, Trace Amount‘s Anti Body Language sees release through Greg Puciato‘s Federal Prisoner imprint and collects a solid 35 minutes of noise-laced harsh industrial worldbreaking. Decay anthems. A methodical assault begins with “Anxious Awakenings” and moving through “Anti Body Language” and “Eventually it Will Kill Us All,” the feeling of Gallagher acknowledging the era in which the record arrives is palpable, but more palpable are the weighted beats, the guttural shouts and layers of disaffected moans. “Digitized Exile” plays out like the ugliest outtake from Pretty Hate Machine — a compliment — and after the suitably tense “No Reality,” the six-minute “Tone and Tenor” — with a guest appearance from Kanga — offers a fuller take on drone and industrial metal, filling some of the spaces purposefully left open elsewhere. That leaves the penultimate “Pixelated Premonitions” as the ultimate blowout and “Suspect” (with a guest spot from Statiqbloom; a longtime fixture of NY industrialism) to noise-wash it all away, like city acid rain melting the pavement. New York always smells like piss in summer.
This band just keeps getting better, and yes, I mean that. Toronto’s Lammping begin an informal, casual-style series of singles with “Desert on the Keel,” the sub-four-minutes of which are dedicated to a surprisingly peaceful kind of heavy psychedelia. Multiple songwriters at work? Yes. Rhythm guitarist Matt Aldred comes to the fore here with vocals mellow to suit the languid style of the guitar, which with Jay Anderson‘s drums still giving a push beneath reminds of Quest for Fire‘s more active moments, but would still fit alongside the tidy hooks with which Lammping populate their records. Mikhail Galkin, principal songwriter for the band, donates a delightfully gonna-make-some-noise-here organ solo in the post-midsection jam before “Desert on the Keel” turns righteously back to the verse, Colm Hinds‘ bass McCartneying the bop for good measure, and in a package so welcome it can only be called a gift, Lammping demonstrate multiple new avenues of growth for their craft and project. I told you. They keep getting better. For more, dig into 2022’s Stars We Lost EP (review here). You won’t regret it.
Immediate three-part harmonies in the chorus of opener “Stealin’ Wine” set the tone for Limousine Beach‘s self-titled debut, as the new band fronted by guitarist/vocalist David Wheeler (OutsideInside, Carousel) and bringing together a five-piece with members of Fist Fight in the Parking Lot, Cruces and others melds ’70s-derived sounds with a modern production sheen, so that the Thin Lizzy-style twin leads of “Airboat” hit with suitable brightness and the arena-ready vibe in “Willodene” sets up the proto-metal of “Black Market Buss Pass” and the should-be-a-single-if-it-wasn’t “Hear You Calling.” Swagger is a staple of Wheeler‘s work, and though the longest song on Limousine Beach is still under four minutes, there’s plenty of room in tracks like “What if I’m Lying,” the AC/DC-esque “Evan Got a Job” and the sprint “Movin’ On” (premiered here) for such things, and the self-awareness in “We’re All Gonna Get Signed” adds to the charm. Closing out the 13 songs and 31 minutes, “Night is Falling” is dizzying, and leads to “Doo Doo,” the tight-twisting “Tiny Hunter” and the feedback and quick finish of “Outro,” which is nonetheless longer than the song before it. Go figure. Go rock. One of 2022’s best debut albums. Good luck keeping up.
Perfect Light is the closest Patrick Walker (also Warning) has yet come to a solo album with 40 Watt Sun, and any way one approaches it, is a marked departure from 2016’s Wider Than the Sky (review here, sharing a continued penchant for extended tracks but transposing the emotional weight that typifies Walker‘s songwriting and vocals onto pieces led by acoustic guitar and piano. Emma Ruth Rundle sits in on opener “Reveal,” which is one of the few drumless inclusions on the 67-minute outing, but primarily the record is a showcase for Walker‘s voice and fluid, ultra-subdued and mostly-unplugged guitar notes, which float across “Behind My Eyes” and the dare-some-distortion “Raise Me Up” later on, shades of the doom that was residing in the resolution that is, the latter unflinching in its longing purpose. Not a minor undertaking either on paper or in the listening experience, it is the boldest declaration of intent and progression in Walker’s storied career to-date, leaving heavy genre tropes behind in favor of something that seems even more individual.
Snagged by Heavy Psych Sounds in the early going of 2022, French rockers Decasia debut on the label with An Endless Feast for Hyenas, a 10-track follow-up to 2017’s The Lord is Gone EP (review here), making the most of the occasion of their first full-length to portray inventive vocal arrangements coinciding with classic-sounding fuzz in “Hrosshvelli’s Ode” and the spacier “Cloud Sultan” — think vocalized Earthless — the easy-rolling viber “Skeleton Void” and “Laniakea Falls.” “Ilion” holds up some scorch at the beginning, “Hyenas at the Gates” goes ambient at the end, and interludes “Altostratus” and “Soft Was the Night” assure a moment to breathe without loss of momentum, holding up proof of a thoughtful construction even as Decasia demonstrate a growth underway and a sonic persona long in development that holds no shortage of potential for continued progress. By no means is An Endless Feast for Hyenas the highest-profile release from this label this year, but think of it as an investment in things to come as well as delivery for right now.
The abiding shove of “Circle” and the more swinging “Abracadabra” begin Giant Mammoth‘s second full-length, Holy Sounds, with a style that wonders what if Lowrider and Valley of the Sun got together in a spirit of mutual celebration and densely-packed fuzz. Longer pieces “The Colour is Blue” and “Burning Man” and the lightly-proggier finale “Teisko” space out more, and the two-minute “Dust” is abidingly mellow, but wherever the Tampere, Finland, three-piece go, they remain in part defined by the heft of “Abracadabra” and the opener before it, with “Unholy” serving as an anchor for side A after “Burning Man” and “Wasteland” bringing a careening return to earth between “The Colour is Blue” and the close-out in “Teisko.” Like the prior-noted influences, Giant Mammoth are a stronger act for the dynamics of their material and the manner in which the songs interact with each other as the eight-track/38-minute LP plays out across its two sides, the second able to be more expansive for the groundwork laid in the first. They’re young-ish and they sound it (that’s not a slag), and the transition from duo to three-piece made between their first record and this one suits them and bodes well in its fuller tonality.
New Jersey trio Pyre Fyre may or may not be paying homage to their hometown of Bayonne with “Rinky Dink City,” but their punk-born fuzzy sludge rock reminds of none so much as New Orleans’ Suplecs circa 2000’s Wrestlin’ With My Ladyfriend, both the title-tracks dug into raw lower- and high-end buzztone shenanigans, big on groove and completely void of pretense. Able to have fun and still offer some substance behind the chicanery. I don’t know if you’d call it party rock — does anyone party on the East Coast or are we too sad because the weather sucks? probably, I’m just not invited — but if you were having a hangout and Pyre Fyre showed up with “Slow Cookin’,” for sure you’d let them have the two and a half minutes it takes them (less actually) to get their point across. In terms of style and songwriting, production and performance, this is a band that ask next to nothing of the listener in terms of investment are able to effect a mood in the positive without being either cloyingly poppish or leaving a saccharine aftertaste. I guess this is how the Garden State gets high. Fucking a.
Kamru, Kosmic Attunement to the Malevolent Rites of the Universe
Issued on April 20, the cumbersomely-titled Kosmic Attunement to the Malevolent Rites of the Universe is the debut outing from Denver-based two-piece Kamru, comprised of Jason Kleim and Ashwin Prasad. With six songs each hovering on either side of seven minutes long, the duo tap into a classic stoner-doom feel, and one could point to this or that riff and say The Sword or liken their tone worship and makeup to Telekinetic Yeti, but that’s missing the point. The point is in the atmosphere that is conjured by “Penumbral Litany” and the familiar proto-metallurgy of the subsequent “Hexxer,” prominent vocals echoing with a sense of command rare for a first offering of any kind, let alone a full-length. In the more willfully grueling “Cenotaph” there’s doomly reach, and as “Winter Rites” marches the album to its inevitable end — one imagines blood splattered on a fresh Rocky Mountain snowfall — the band’s take on established parameters of aesthetic sounds like it’s trying to do precisely what it wants. I’m saying watch out for it to get picked up for a vinyl release by some label or other if that hasn’t happened yet.
Posted in Reviews on December 16th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Day four. Fancy pants. Yesterday was the most effective writing day I’ve had in recent memory, which makes today kind of a harrowing prospect since the only real way to go after that is down. I’ve done the try-to-get-a-jump-on-it stuff, but you never really know how things are going to turn out until your head’s in it and you’re dug into two or three records. We’ll see how it goes. There’s a lot to dig into today though, in a pretty wide range of sounds, so that helps. I’ll admit there are times when it’s like, “What’s another way to say ‘dudes like to riff?'”
As if I’d need another way.
Anyhoozle, hope you find something you dig, as always. If not, still one more day tomorrow. We’ll get there. Thanks for reading.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
Dang!!!, Sociopathfinder
It would take all the space I’ve allotted for this review to recount the full lineup involved in making DANG!!!‘s debut album, Sociopathfinder, but the powerhouse Norwegian seven-piece has former members of The Cosmic Dropouts, Gluecifer, Nashville Pussy, and Motorpsycho, among others, and Kvelertak drummer Håvard Takle Ohr, so maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise they get down to serious business on the record. With influences spanning decades from the ’60s-gone’90s organ-laced electro-rock of “Long Gone Misery” and the Halloween-y “Degenerate,” to the rampaging heavy rock hooks of “Manic Possessive” and “Good Intentions” and the “In the Hall of the Mountain King”-referencing closer “Eight Minutes Till Doomsday,” the 12-song/46-minute outing is a lockdown-defiant explosion of creative songwriting and collaboration, and though it features no fewer than six guitarists throughout (that includes guests), it all flows together thanks to the strength of craft, urgency of rhythm, and Geir Nilsen‘s stellar work on organ. It’s a lot to take on, but pays off any effort put in. Unless you’re a sociopath, I guess. Then you probably don’t feel it at all.
Following up their 2019 debut, People (review here), Swedish classic-heavy trio Stew offer an efficient nine-song/38-minute excursion into ’70s/’10s-inspired boogie rock and heavy blues with Taste, balancing modern production and its own yore-born aesthetic in sharp but not overly-clean fashion. The vocal layering in the back half of opener “Heavy Wings” is a clue to the clarity underlying the band’s organic sound, and while Taste sounds fuller than did People, the bounce of “All That I Need,” the blues hooks in “Keep on Praying” and “Still Got the Time,” subtle proto-metallurgy of “New Moon” (one almost hears barking at it) and the wistful closing duo of “When the Lights Go Out” and “You Don’t Need Me” aren’t so far removed from the preceding outing as to be unrecognizable. This was a band who knew what they wanted to sound like on their first album who’ve set about refining their processes. Taste checks in nicely on that progress and shows it well underway.
Are the crows I hear cawing on “Tyrant of the Unreal” actually in the song or outside my window? Does it matter? I don’t know anymore. Los Angeles-based psychological terror rock unit Nothing is Real reportedly conjured the root tracks for the 87-minute 2CD Transmissions of the Unearthly with guest drummer Jeremy Lauria over the course of two days and the subsequent Halloween release has been broken into two parts: ‘Chaos’ and ‘Order.’ Screaming blackened psychedelia haunts the former, while the latter creeps in dark, raw sludge realization, but one way or the other, the prevailing sensory onslaught is intentionally overwhelming. The slow march of “King of the Wastelands” might actually be enough to serve as proclamation, and where in another context “Sickened Samsara” would be hailed as arthouse black-metal-meets-filthy–psych-jazz, the delivery from Nothing is Real is so sincere and untamed that the horrors being explored do in fact feel real and are duly disconcerting and wickedly affecting. Bleak in a way almost entirely its own.
After immersing the listener with the keyboard-laced opening instrumental “Alektorophobia” (fear of chickens), the third album from UK outfit Jerky Dirt, Orse, unfolds the starts and stops of “Ygor’s Lament” with a sensibility like earlier Queens of the Stone Age gone prog before moving into the melodic highlight “Orse, Part 1” and the acoustic “Eh-Iss.” By the time the centerpiece shuffler “Ozma of Oz” begins, you’re either on board or you’re not, and I am. Despite a relatively spare production, Jerky Dirt convey tonal depth effectively between the fuzz of “Ygor’s Lament” and the more spacious parts of “In Mind” that give way to larger-sounding roll, and some vocal harmonies in “The Beast” add variety in the record’s second half before the aptly-named “Smoogie Boogie” — what else to call it, really? — and progressive melody of “Orse, Part 2” close out. A minimal online presence means info on the band is sparse, it may just be one person, but the work holds up across Orse on multiple listens, complex in craft but accessible in execution.
A scouring effort of weirdo horror heavy, the five-track Lunacy from South Carolina’s Space Coke isn’t short on accuracy, seemingly on any level. The swirl of nine-minute opener “Bride of Satan” is cosmic but laced with organ, underlying rumble, far-back vocals and sundry other elements that are somehow menacing. The subsequent “Alice Lilitu” is thicker-toned for at least stretches of its 13 minutes, and its organ feels goth-born as it moves past the midpoint, but the madness of a solo that ensues from there feels well cast off (or perhaps on, given the band’s moniker) the rails. Shit gets strange, people. “Frozen World” is positively reachable by comparison, though it too has its organ drama, and the ensuing “Lightmare” starts with an extended horror sample before fuzzing and humming out six minutes of obscure incantation and jamming itself into oblivion. Oh, and there’s a cover of Danzig‘s “Twist of Cain” at the end. Because obviously. Doom filtered through goth kitsch-horror VHS tape and somewhere behind you something is lurking and you don’t see it coming until it’s too late.
Broken into two halves each given its own intro in “Intervention” and “Celestial Convoy,” respectively, the debut full-length from Stockholm’s Black Solstice brings back some familiar faces in guitarist Anders Martinsgård and drummer Peter Eklund, both formerly of Ponamero Sundown. Ember, with flourish of percussion in “Signs of Wisdom,” grunge-style harmonies in “Burned by the Sun” and just a hint of winding thrashy threat in “Firespawn,” is deeply rooted in doom metal. They count Sabbath as primary, but the 10-track/42-minute offering is more metal than stonerized riff worship, and with vocalist “Mad Magnus” Lindmark and bassist Lelle B. Falheim completing the lineup, the four-piece boast an aggressive edge and hit harder than one might initially think going in. That is no complaint, mind you. Perhaps they’re not giving themselves enough credit for the depth of their sound, but as their first long-player (following a few demos), Ember finds a niche that hints toward the familiar without going overboard in tropes. I don’t know who, but someone in this band likes Megadeth.
Begun as Paleskin before a probably-for-the-best name change, Tampere, Finland’s Dome Runner offer a hard-industrial bridge between Godflesh at their angriest and earliest Fear Factory‘s mechanized chugging assault. Conflict State Design is the trio’s first full-length, and along with the stated influences, there’s some pull from sludge and noise as well, shades of Fudge Tunnel in “Unfollow” met with harsh screaming or the churning riff underscoring the explosions of synth in “The Undemonizing Process,” like roughed-up Souls at Zero-era Neurosis. With the seven-minute extreme wash of “Impure Utility of Authoritarian Power Structure” at its center, Conflict State Design harkens back to the dreary industrialism of two decades ago — it very pointedly doesn’t sound like Nine Inch Nails — but is given a forward-thinking heft and brutality to match. Amid something of an industrial revival in the heavy underground, Dome Runner‘s debut stands out. More to the point, it’s fucking awesome.
Varese, Italy, instrumentalist heavy post-rockers Moonlit almost can’t help but bring to mind Red Sparowes with their debut album, So Bless Us Now…, though the marching cymbals early in the 17-minute finale “And We Stood Still Until We Became, Invisible” seem to be in conversation with Om‘s meditative practice as well, and the violin on the earlier “Empty Sky/Cold Lights…” (11:25) is a distinguishing element. Still, it is a melding of heft and float across “For We Have Seen” (12:29) at the beginning of the record, more straight-ahead riffing met with a focus on atmospherics beyond conventional sense of aural weight. Each piece has its own persona, some linear, the penultimate “Shine in the Darkest Night” more experimentalist in structure and its use of samples, but the whole 55-minute listening experience is consuming, minimal in its droning finish only after creating a full wash of mindful, resonant psychedelic reach. With titles drawn from Nietzsche quotes from Thus Spake Zarathustra, there are suitably lonely stretches throughout, but even at its maddest, So Bless Us Now… holds to its stylistic purpose.
Not to be confused with New York outfit Spacelord, the now-decade-plus-runnin German instrumental kosmiche-harvesters The Spacelords present Unknown Species across three — and I’m just being honest here — wonderful extended works, arranged from shortest to longest as “F.K.B.D.F.” (8:10), “Unknown Species” (14:53) and the initially-unplugged “Time Tunnel” (20:26) unfurl a thoughtful outbound progression that finds beauty in dark times and jams with intent that’s progressive without pretense — and, when it wants to be, substantially heavy. That’s true more of the end in “Time Tunnel” than the initial synth-laced drift of “F.K.B.D.F.,” but the solo-topped punch of the title-track/centerpiece isn’t to be understated either. In 2020, the trio released their Spaceflowers (review here) LP, as well as a documentary about their recording/writing processes, and Unknown Species pushes even further into defining just how special a band they are, gorgeously constructed and impeccably mixed as it is. Can’t and wouldn’t ask for more.
A debut outing from Michigan-based newcomers Scrying Stone, the 29-minute Scrublands flows like an album so I’m going to consider it one until I hear otherwise. And as a first album, it sets melody and tonal density not so much against each other, but toward like purposes, and even in the instrumental “Ballad of the Hyena,” it finds cohesive ground for the two sides to exist together without contradiction and without sounding overly derivative of its modern influences. “At Our Heels” makes an engaging hello for first-time listeners, and the faster “The Marauder” later on adds a sense of dynamic at just the right moment before the fuzzy overload of “Desert Thirst” dives into deeper weedian idolatry. There’s some boogie underneath the title-track too, and as a companion to the willing-to-soar closer “Dromedary,” that unrushed rush feels purposeful, making Scrublands come across as formative in its reach — one can definitely hear where they might branch out — but righteously complete in its production and songwriting; a strong opening statement of potential for the band to make en route to what might come next.
Posted in audiObelisk on August 5th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
The second full-length from Finland’s Horte, titled Maa Antaa Yön Vaientaa, is set to release on Aug. 27 through Pelagic Records. The four-piece bear some at-least-tertiary relation to outfits like Dark Buddha Rising and Oranssi Pazuzu — the acclaimed ‘Waste of Space’ collective in Tampere — but explore textures vastly different from those dark and/or blown-out confines. Combining spaciousness and intimacy amid washes of psychedelia and indie-style electronics, organic drums, bass and guitar meeting with synthesizer beats all behind the flowing melodies of vocalist Riika, the almost-humble 36-minute follow-up to Horte‘s 2017 self-titled debut is sweetly-colored in its post-rocking patience, making each wavelength count as different elements intertwine on opener “Pelko Karistaa Järjen” or the soon to follow side A pair of “Kilpemme” and “Valoa on Liika,” the last of skirts the line of minimalism only because it’s so quiet, but is deceptively rich in its layered depths, the central beat looping more like a found-sound than something purposefully conjured from a keyboard or MIDI bank, and though it’s among the more rhythmically active cuts on the album, “Ilman Nurkka” (premiering below) holds to the central vibe, melancholic despite my ignorance of the Finnish language, but exploratory and beautiful.
Comprised mostly of Maa Antaa Yön Vaientaa‘s two longest tracks “Kun Joki Haihtuu” (6:27) and “Väisty Tieltä” (7:08), side B finds Horte pushing further outward in structure and both making and paying off more weighted threats of volume. “Kun Joki Haihtuu” spends most of its time rolling along its readily fuzzed bassline, but grows into a jazzy barrage of crashes before hitting its midpoint and seems to spend the next verses collecting itself, at least before its final devolution to piano keys throughout its last minute or so, deathly quiet as a setup for the immediate punch of drums, low end and rhythmic shove that is “Väisty Tieltä,” with percussion, keyboard or effects wash swirling over the churn and a build of its own underway until it drops out and Riika‘s voice enters for a first verse. There’s a reason this song was the lead single despite also being the longest piece on the record, and “Ilman Nurkka” makes a fair enough follow-up with its own pulse, but the central persona of Maa Antaa Yön Vaientaa as a whole is just as much — if not more — soothing than it is brash. I suppose “Väisty Tieltä” shows that in its final stretch, but the spirit there is more sci-fi soundtrack triumph and aftermath by the time they’re done than it is the serenity of “Kilpemme” earlier or the vastly spacious, mostly-drone “Konttaa” which follows as an outro to the proceedings.
It would be a case of dual personalities were the sound and the underlying craft not so cohesive. As it stands, Horte come across as dynamic without losing themselves in the process any more than they wish to in a moment like that surge in “Väisty Tieltä” or in the hypnotic wistfulness that’s captured as “Pelko Karistaa Järjen” deconstructs en route to “Ilman Nurkka.” These stretches are myriad across Maa Antaa Yön Vaientaa, and they make the album refreshing even at its most barely-there, because it’s an opportunity to breathe. It would be inappropriate for Horte to force the issue, to thrust a song at you, and even at its most physically moving, Maa Antaa Yön Vaientaa doesn’t do that. Instead, they sweep the listener along, fast or slow, like a river current, peaceful here, sometimes on a faster downhill slide, until finally they reach the destination that “Konttaa” seems to provide. It’s sunny there, mostly.
“Ilman Nurkka” premieres on the player that follows here. Info from the PR wire is under that in the blue text, as ever. You’ll see the preorder link. It stands out.
Please enjoy:
Horte, “Ilman Nurkka” track premiere
“Ilman nurkka”, taken from Horte’s new album “Maa antaa yön vaientaa”. Out August 27 via Pelagic Records. Stream / Download / Pre-order here:https://bit.ly/horteDGTL
“Maa antaa yön vaientaa” is as captivating as it is alienating. The second album by Finnish Post-Rock extravaganza HORTE is a dark and mesmerizing journey that is best consumed in one sitting – or else you’ll miss all the dramatic arcs. HORTE demand your undivided attention.
“Our principal goal is to keep the focus on the music without highlighting us as individuals”, says singer Riikka.
It is her otherworldly but ultimately pacifying voice which inevitably places HORTE’s dreamy, psychedelically distorted soundscapes in the far North. Besides the vocals, the bass is the most prominent and most tangible element in these soundscapes, standing tall between eerie synth clouds, broken beats and a voice that oscillates between subdued aspiration and bitter laments.
Field recordings and sound collages stand at the beginning of the group’s songwriting process, collected material from differing stratums that gets processed into a skeletal pre-composition, before the whole band arranges the pieces together. “Our way is to work with the material as long as it takes for the piece to figure itself out. Sound comes with it. There is always a compositional vision of how the pieces should sound in a broader sense”, says Riikka.
The Finish Four piece released their self-titled debut album via SVART Records in 2017. Maa antaa yon vaientaa (“Let the earth be silenced by night”) was recorded by the band at their homes and at Tonehaven Studio in Tampere, Finland. As an outside observer, Juho Vanhanen (Oranssi Pazuzu) worked with Horte on the production. The album was mixed by Saku Tamminen (Dark Buddha Rising).
1. Pelko karistaa järjen 2. Ilman nurkka 3. Kilpemme 4. Valoa on liikaa 5. Kun joki haihtuu 6. Väisty tieltä 7. Konttaa, ne konttaa II
