ambient

Album Reflection: Fennesz — Bécs

Fennesz: Bécs
Similar Artists: Eluvium, William Basinski, Steve Roach, Brian Eno
Genre: Isolation, Solitude, Anesthetics
Label: Editions Mego

90% of the time that I’m listening to ambient music, or new age, or any kind of soothing instrumental music for that matter, I’m unconscious — lost in some empty space where only faint remnants of the music can actually reach me. It’s those faint glimmers of warmth that provide a cushion for my dream world though, and they form a rather heavenly landscape for my mind to sanctify in. It’s a means of therapy above all else, as it keeps me in a state of floatation during the nights, and away from any unrelenting demon lurking in my mind who’s seeking for a way in during my weakened state. But as much as this music does provide a sort of safe haven for my mind and is greatly therapeutic, it simultaneously keeps me away from the reality of things, each lulling wave and static frequency pushes me down beneath the surface and into a realm of nothingness. It’s a predicament that I’ve become torn by: do I let myself become haunted by painful memories, or do I live in a fantasy world that eventually leads nowhere? If only I could relieve myself of this ancient fear I possess — one of the afterlife, of death, of suffering — then maybe my mind wouldn’t be such an awful place to succumb to.

Fennesz is an artist who I’ve been living with — both consciously and unconsciously — for quite some time. Endless Summer, his 2001 breakthrough and certifiable electronic classic, ushered me into a new phase of music appreciation. Where it was not uncommon for abstract electronic artists from the time to conjoin disparate genres (in this case, sunshiny, heavily processed guitar and sharp, layered noise), Fennesz was able to make each genre melt into the other, and not in a shoegaze type of way (although that is a noticeable influence as well), but in a way where sounds which would be described as harsh and ugly in isolation actually emanated a resounding calm, and made you re-think the meaning of the word “beautiful”.

Bécs is the apparent sequel to Endless Summer, and since it’s the artist’s first solo long player since 2008’s shade or two darker Black Sea, it’s quite the reason for excitement from an ambient aficionado like myself… Or maybe it’s not, because there has been no real shortage of Fennesz-like music in the past 6 years anyway. Matthew Cooper, whose Eluvium alias gained comparison to Fennesz, and was even hailed as “the American Fennesz” at the start of his career, has released a plentiful amount of serene and intricate soundscapes in that timeframe (including last year’s excellent double album Nightmare Ending); not to mention Christian Fennesz himself has released multiple collaborative albums (often more than one per year), so its hard to say he has truly been missed. Also, it’s not as if the appeal/novelty of his earlier works has worn dry, as I still revisit the likes of Endless Summer frequently, so calling this a sequel which draws from the same sound palette doesn’t do much to further any excitement. Or maybe my slight hesitation in approaching this record stems from being afraid of what extensive listening to this music will continue to do to me, or rather, what it will prevent me from doing in the long term. Do I really need to hide away from the surface anymore? Haven’t I hidden from my anxieties for long enough?

The first thing one notices when listening to Fennesz is how beautiful and intricate and detailed the sounds are, and how they form a mystical, yet never contrived or predictable world. After that feeling has worn off, however, they notice that the feeling it prescribes is truly one of emptiness. This is a strange word for me to use, as Fennesz is an artist I am continually intrigued and fascinated by, but it is not emptiness by way of loneliness that I intend to speak of, but instead emptiness by way of numbingness, and a lack of awareness for the outside world. It is music to initiate the drifting mind; a solitary stoner’s paradise that thrives on antisocial behavior and eventually, a loss of love.

It’s worth mentioning that Bécs does all of this gorgeously, even if it is exactly what one would have expected it to be. Through the 40 or so minute runtime our ears are treated to heavenly guitar strums shrouded in elegant cinematic hues, bright tones and crumbling static that slowly massages the listener into a state of empty bliss. And the thing is, each track does do this in a wholly different way, quite expertly in fact. There is no simple trick at play here, and it’s one of the reasons repeated listens don’t do much to reveal the fogginess of these compositions. Fennesz can use sounds that in isolation are eerie, mournful, perplexing, or even terrifying, but when lumped together they transform into a collage of carefully treated beauty that is as grand to listen to as it is hopeless to live by.

I don’t know exactly what I’m getting at with this review, and it’s because I’m at the crossroads in terms of my musical identity. This is my first review in over 4 months, and while part of my absence has been because I’ve been terribly busy with both work and school, and another has been because of a little something called Dark Souls 2, mostly, it’s because looking at art objectively is not something I feel is possible for me anymore, as my opinion and its meaning changes from day-to-day, listen-to-listen. This means that I didn’t have the chance to write reviews on some of this year’s most notable releases, of which there have been many — including The Body, tUnE-yArDs, Wild Beasts, and The War On Drugs to name a few — but that’s ok, because I’m not sure how I feel about any of them anyway. I’ve expressed this concern before, but I’m now more than ever in speculation about the point of a critic in today’s flooded musical landscape where countless music is released daily that will seldom he heard by but a few ears. What I do know, is that music is not something that can be experienced in isolation from the rest of the world. Contrary to my previous beliefs, music — no matter how original or well-written or well-produced — cannot last without contexts (friends, families, locations, real-world scenarios) and for that reason, it unfortunately cannot be solely listened to on headphones to and from your way to work. It is an element that must be consumed fully and discussed in detail with a range of real life people at concerts, festivals, and bars — not just through nameless online entities. Like myself, music is also in a bit of an existential crisis, trying desperately to adapt to its new set of criteria without outwardly admitting to it. It will survive, undoubtedly, but for now we’re both lost in a sea of information, trying to claw ourselves out and numb the pain with anesthetics all at the same time.

Track Listing:
1.) Static Kings*
2.) The Liar
3.) Liminality*
4.) Pallas Athene
5.) Becs*
6.) Sav
7.) Paroles*

Album Highlight: *

Album Review: Logos – Cold Mission

by Rio Toro

Logos: Cold Mission

Similar Artists: Jam City, Rabit, Vangelis, Girl-Unit

Genre: Grime, Pirate-Radio, Post-Apocalyptica, Ambient, Extra-Terrestrial

Label: Keysound

February 28, 2028,

The last time they came it was when I was fast asleep, dreaming of the constellations perhaps, only to be awoken by three disquieting jolts at the front door; the reaction caused a loud, penetrating boom that ricocheted through the dismantled hallways of the apartment building. It was immediately apparent to all of us — these were no ordinary knocks. They came from no neighboring friend asking for food for their young, no friendly door salesman offering household supplies. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” There they were again, this time even more forceful and alarming than they had been before. From outside the boarded up windows I could hear the sounds of police issued nightsticks crashing down on the cold metal handrails leading up to our quarters. Each crack of the whip created a resonating ringing sound that rang into the ether, stinging my ears with their vibrancy. Within seconds the front door swung open, breaking the lock into metallic, crystalline shards. I attempted to get up out of my cot, but my legs wouldn’t budge, for I knew so much as a creak in the bed springs or a tilt in the floorboards would draw me unwanted attention. Instead of running like my mind insisted, I held my breath, listening for the oncoming action… (Why those men were there at that moment I still can’t say for certain — a random search and seize procedure I assume — but what I do know is that they’ll be back, and soon, next time without leaving any scraps.)

Shattering glass, the cocking of a shotgun, and the dreadful ambience of the coming police raids: these are the sounds that have continuously replayed in my head ever since the 2025 uprising. It was three years ago today in fact, where the crisis first began, and that’s why I’m writing this note now. Someone somewhere I’m sure must be celebrating the occasion as they toast their wine and feast on their bread, but for those of us living in one of London’s many abandoned districts — whose outlet for satisfaction lays buried within the rubble of our crumbling city — it’s another reminder of the brutal times we’ve been living in, as well as the ones that lie ahead.

I often find myself craving for the days when us citizens lived out our lives as mindless, meaningless drones — working deliriously for our corruptors without so much as a hint about the struggles we would later have to face. Instead, London has been fragmented into nearly uninhabitable sectors. The unluckiest of us live in a state of constant turmoil, everyone from the young to the old are forced to live in grime-ridden, disease spewing apartment buildings with minimum power/supplies, waiting on our heels for some kind of definable end to arrive. This past year alone, murder rates have risen to an uncountable level, and there are no signs pointing towards an end to any of the violence. Every week, it seems there’s another story about more clan leaders being executed, more of the so-called safe havens being overtaken by a government run district.

Recently, the authorities have started using a newly developed weapon in attempt to slow down some of the more forceful of the rebellion units — or at least this is what we originally thought was happening. You see, the most watchful of us believe there’s something inhuman lurking amongst us. I’ve seen it myself, no more than a few hundred yards away in fact — if only faintly through the dense entrapping fog. Out from this strangely geometric figure emitted a bright, luminescent beam of blue light, instantly enveloping its target in a sort of dome shaped cocoon. Then, the dome slowly hovered around the target until everything, including the geometric being itself, was turned to nothingness. The sound this occurrence makes though — a penetratingly deep, sub bass roar — is enough to cause you to fall to your knees at its utterance. The reverberating echo of the sound forever repeats in your skull, long after the rays of the light have faded into blackness. No carcass, no ashes, and no blood stains are left at the crime scene for the following day’s inspectors, as if all the townspeople had just dreamed the occurrence. This, as well as many of the other rumors all seem to point towards something unmistakably alien among us — some kind of shape-shifting being that only takes on its natural form during the wee hours of the night, a blood thirsting creature working for neither side of the Earth’s equation, and a larger part of the secret that’s still being hidden from us.

Something good is coming though — it seems everyone can sense it — something greater even than hope itself, more indisputable than fact. From the beginning of this month, a gap has begun to open in the sky for a few hours at a time, directly to the north of us. During these brief moments, when I’m able to stare up at the celestial heavens, it all seems so different than how I remember it. Some stars are bigger or wider, others are shifted around and out of place. It’s as if the higher powers of the universe have thrown this foggy blanket on top of us so we wouldn’t notice their godly hands switching the pieces around. Whenever this astronomical reference closes off however, all my thoughts seem to decease before they form into a coherent whole. All patterns become dispersed and drowned out in the cataclysmic atmosphere of the environment. It’s the main reason why I haven’t been able to write this sooner, and why most days I am but a slave to the harsh winter climate, at a loss to process any new information. Lastly, before I forget, I did happen to see something else traveling through the night sky on its last visit — a blazing blue comet, as bright as can be and hurdling towards the Earth.

Track Listing:

1.) Ex 101*

2.) Stasis Jam

3.) Surface Area

4.) Swarming (feat. Rabit)*

5.) Sea Wolf*

6.) Alien Shapes (Feat. Dusk & Blackdown)

7.) Menace

8.) Cold Mission

9.) Night Flight

10.) Wut It Do (Feat. Mumdance)*

11.) Atlanta 96 (Limitless Mix)*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Tim Hecker – Virgins

by Rio Toro

Tim Hecker: Virgins

Similar Artists: Ben Frost, Oneohtrix Point Never, Jacaszek

Genre: Experimental, Ambient

Label: Kranky

Glass chambers, creaky floorboards, shipwrecks, brightly lit hallways, rooms that neither end nor begin, the pull of empty space, unknown aircrafts flying over head, smashed mirrors, melted canvases, forgotten buildings embellished in dust, bomb shelters, endless streams of molecules, trains crashing, ricocheting fragments of metal, minefields bursting apart the earth, solar eclipses, heavy breathing, a killer with a knife, torn pages from a historical manuscript, broken hospital monitors, seeing the fear in your victims eyes, stranded on an island, isolated, all viewed through a wide angle lens.

Once again, Montreal based composer Tim Hecker — whose music has grown increasingly demanding throughout the course of his seven full lengths — has given us a visually striking cinematic experience, and also, quite possibly the next landmark in ambient music. While chronicling his entire course up to this point might prove worthwhile, I will digress by starting with his last solo release, Ravedeath 1972. Listening to Virgins, It’s now clear that that album — which was notoriously crafted from a single organ performance — was the true changing point for the artist, as it’s where he found the perfect balancing point between his competing themes of light vs. dark. The mood he has continued to create here is one that’s steeped in a remorseful yearning, and his sound is one fueled by a disintegrating orchestra — each instrument violently clambering to find their proper place within the mix. While it’s occasional abruptness may be too much for some listeners, the emphasis on bright textures and heavenly overtones makes it more beautiful than ear clenching.

While he had a rather large following before 2011, the warm critical and commercial reception recently befitting his name has allowed him a larger sense of freedom on this release. This release has also availed him to the necessary production costs to take his style to heights that were previously only hinted at. Just listen to the opening track, “Prism”; within seconds we are thrown into the disarray of mountainous feedback and a string section being turned inside out. It’s the sounds of an artist who’s grown fearless, and one who is free of restraint. He’s evolved in other ways too, as evidenced by “Live Room”, one of the artist’s most spacious and detailed arrangements yet.

So you’re probably wondering what all that mumbo jumbo I put in the first paragraph is about. While I won’t explain all of it, it goes along with the scattershot, yet somehow still unified track sequencing of the album. This is in direct opposition to Ravedeath 1972, which I felt to be an album that flowed seamlessly and uninterruptedly throughout its running time. Unlike the goal of many ambient artists, Virgins represents the soundtrack to a movie that could never exist. It’s a soundtrack that provides countless scenarios and visualizations, all of which have blown up at the seams, damaging any valuable information we would have needed to put them all together. It’s a move that makes his music more jarring than typical ambient music, but also arguably more listenable and engaging.

Largely due to the expanded instrumentation, Virgins is easily the most enthralling Tim Hecker release yet. Created through a series of live recordings in rooms, the sounds of various woodwinds, strings and pianos become meshed and intertwined into a disorienting — but never cacophonous — whole. Piano no longer acts as a faint reminder of human world, as it is now enmeshed within the chaos, and provides its own kind of twisted sacrificial bond with the listener. Never is this more apparent than on the 2 “Virginal” pieces, in which a piano is looped and overdubbed to a terrifying effect. If you couldn’t tell from the cover art alone, the album isfar from the innocence its title invokes. Other tracks are based in more standard ambient fashion (“Amps, Drugs, Harmonium”), but there is always something strange lurking in the background to prevent us from completely characterizing these tracks as one definite thing.

I keep being reminded of scenes from Gravity when I listen to Virgins, especially during the slow build of “Stigmata II”. The infiniteness of space presented in that movie proves to be an accurate reference point for the obtuse presentation of the album, and the two are similar in their themes of isolation and desperation. Like outer space, Virgins is a place that exists on a never ending plane, it doesn’t make sense when we attempt to study the finer points of it, but we can’t help but be amazed by its vast features regardless. Above any interpretation though, this is music about harnessing a particular feeling. It’s not experimental music in a topical sense that was made to sound “cool” or “trendy”, but rooted by the process intrinsically to evoke a certain emotional response. If you had any doubt that he wouldn’t top himself, with Virgins, Tim Hecker has crafted his most engrossing album yet.

Track Listing:

1.) Prism*

2.) Virginal I*

3.) Radiance

4.) Live Room*

5.) Live Room Out

6.) Virginal II*

7.) Black Refraction

8.) Incense at Abu Ghraib*

9.) Amps, Drugs, Harmonium

10.) Stigmata I

11.) Stigmata II*

12.) Stab Variation

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Julianna Barwick – Nepenthe

by Rio Toro

Julianna Barwick: Nepenthe

Similar Artists: Jonsi & Alex, Grouper

Genre: Ambient, Voice, Loop-Based

Label: Dead Oceans

Most could forgive me if I was initially a bit nervous to listen to Nepenthe, as I was afraid the expanded production credits (Alex Somers of Jonsi & Alex, string quartet Amiina, Mum Guitarist Robert Reynisson [and pretty much everything else “Icelandic” for that matter]) would potentially tarnish the deep, isolated solemnity of Julianna Barwick’s previous LP, The Magic Place. On that 2011 LP, Julianna came into her own as a talented and original sound sculpture with a voice so rich it could have only descended from the heavens. Through the use of her lyric-less vocals and (very) minor instrumentation, she created a soundscape that was both deeply personal and even epic. While “epic” might seem like a strange word for what is essentially ambient music, her towering vocals grow on top of one another until the composition becomes somewhat maximalist, yet remaining precisely contained and elegant.

After a slew of less admirable EP’s, The Magic Place was also the moment where Julianna broke free of any comparisons to new age music and Enya (not that there’s anything wrong with these things). Even modern vocal-loop based artists like Grouper — who has ventured closer to accessibility on albums like The Man Who Died In His Boat, and Dragging a Dead Deer Up A Hill — feel hard to compare to the angelic choir that Julianna Barwick has summoned through her work. Music this personal and emotional has rarely been this immediate and accessible.

While I usually award artists who change up their style from album to album, I think it’s safe to say not many people were begging for an artistic leap on Nepenthe. Thankfully, the enhanced production doesn’t do much to broaden the bounds of the music, as her style is more or less unchanged; her voice without a doubt remains the most captivating piece. As great as the electronic flourishes, piano snippets, and grand orchestrations are, this is music that aims to further the limits of the human voice, and she continues to find brilliant ways to do that throughout Nepenthe.

There are some noticeable differences between her two LP’s, but they deal more with color and tone rather than execution. The atmosphere seems to be much more attuned to frozen tundras and glacial mountaintops — “Pyrrhic” in particular seems to have borrowed a thing or two from Sigur Ros — but like the best ambient music, Nepenthe has a noticeable affect on the environment and almost immediately ushers in a tranquil mood. If one were to attempt to get into a fight, or an argument while this was playing, I don’t think the negativity would be able to sprout from their mouths. This is more true here than on previous releases, because Nepenthe is accompanied by brighter textures, and comes off being a happier experience when compared to The Magic Place‘s sense of distraught longing. It is for this reason that the title itself — which translates roughly to “a medicine for sorrow” — couldn’t be more perfect. It even ties the two albums together and leads one to believe that The Magic Place was a representation of Julianna’s sorrow, while Nepenthe is how she managed to get through it.

Although she remains non lyrical for the most part, “One Part” happens to be her first piece that contains clearly audible words instead of her usual monosyllabic singing. She repeats the words /I guess I was, asleep that night, was waiting far/ over and over to an overwhelming affect; you can’t help but picture her singing the refrain while standing at her window in a night gown staring into the twilight-lit night sky.

I’ve listened to a lot of Julianna Barwick over the last few years, and now, because of Nepenthe, I’m sure she will continue to dominate my playlists for the next several as well. In a way, Julianna has it easy, and while i’m sure this music couldn’t have been arranged by an amateur, she has been blessed with an immaculate voice, and as long as she is paired with a looping station it is the only instrument she will ever need. It’s immediate music, and although it doesn’t necessarily get more beautiful with repeated listens, it should be known that it never happens to become less beautiful either; I think there’s a word for that actually, oh yeah: timeless.

Track Listing:

1.) Offing

2.) The Harbinger*

3.) One Half*

4.) Look Into Your Own Mind

5.) Pyrrhic

6.) Labyrinthine*

7.) Forever*

8.) Adventurer of the Family

9.) Crystal Lake*

10.) Waving To You

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Julia Holter – Loud City Song

by Rio Toro

Julia Holter: Loud City Song

Similar Artists: Jenny Hval, Kate Bush, Nico, Julianna Barwick

Genre: Orchestral-Pop, Dream-Pop, Ambient

Label: Domino

I originally thought Loud City Song — the 3rd LP and 1st studio album from Los Angeles’ Julia Holter — was a strange title for music bearing such a quiet serenity. After all, Julia Holter’s music has always been resemblant of everything but towering skyscrapers and industrialization — although it certainly can be brash and avant-garde now and then. However, while Loud City Song impacted me from my initial listen, I don’t think I truly understood it as a piece until I experienced it while walking through the lower east side of Manhattan. It just so happened to be the most perfect, sunshiny day of the year, and since I was accompanied by a slight breeze, I was thankfully able to stroll along the streets for hours on end without so much as a direction in mind.

While I often feel cities aren’t the best places to listen to music — with their disruptive subway systems and endless array of honking motor vehicles — with Loud City Song I seemed to be transported to a more ancient decade of Manhattan, and my mind soon became focused on the more transparent beauty of the city (or at least what is seemingly transparent for those of us who live here…). from the bright green shrubbery hanging from windowpanes, to the inviting cobblestone walkways, to the variety of tiny boutiques and coffee shops; even the people — who I am often too buried in my own thoughts to notice — seemed to stand out with their unique fashions and accessories.

As it happens, Loud City Song is somewhat based off of the 1950’s MGM musical Gigi — the most apparent allusion(s) being “Maxim’s I” and “Maxim’s II” which reference the main character’s often used cafe — but the story arch and lyricism of the album are so vivid and even surreal, that you really don’t have to know a thing about musicals to understand its meaning. Similarly, despite many themes being rooted in the past, Loud City Song has a message that feels very relevant in modern day society; one being our culture’s fascination with celebrities. Although Julia Holter’s previous two LP’s, Tragedy and Ekstasis, were somewhat based off of ancient Greek texts, Loud City Song ends up being an even more ambitious accomplishment.

So now Julia Holter is working in a full studio setting, and the first thing you’ll notice about Loud City Song is how gorgeous the instrumentation is; from the strings, to the horns, to Julia’s majestic voice itself, everything glows with a pristine quality. The pieces often radiate a bright yellowish hue; especially album centerpiece “Hello Stranger”, which may or may not be a projection of heaven itself. While her previous work was excellently composed as well, the instruments themselves sounded far below studio quality, and I occasionally felt like I was listening to a recording of a high school band. That production fault managed to pull me out of her otherworldly and dreamlike compositions from time to time, and kept her music from being truly perfect. However, now Julia Holter is in the place she was meant to be all along, and there is nothing preventing her from being seen as the superb composer/multi instrumentalist that she is.

As far as the music goes, these pieces act as a combination of the more abstract, avant-garde compositions of Tragedy, with the more direct, song oriented compositions of Ekstasis. Some people felt that the more traditional songwriting on Ekstasis was a step backward for Holter, but no one is going to be saying that here; everything sounds like a clear progression from her previous material. For instance, “In The Green World” happens to be one of the more song-oriented pieces on Loud City Song, but even when she works with standard chord progressions, the album’s otherworldly presence remains in full view. While, “Maxim’s II” ends with a riotous dueling horn passage, the noise feels necessary within the context of the song; nothing about this music sounds random or meaningless, as each note is playing its part towards a grander picture. She has also added a more prominent use of field recordings — such as those from city streets — on “Horn’s Surrounding Me” as well as some double bass on “In the Green Wild”.

Holter ends up sounding experimental and eye-opening without being loud or obnoxious; quite like Kate Bush, another artist who is able to take her music in exploratory directions while maintaining rapt accessibility. While beautiful is a word that is used far too frequently in music, in the case of Julia Holter it is truly fitting; the finest bits of Loud City Song are even overwhelming in their gorgeousness. This feeling of a bustling, happy-go-lucky downtown city environment doesn’t dissipate through multiple listens either. I’m in love with this album, and it might just be opening my eyes to the beautiful world around me.

Track Listing:

1.) World

2.) Maxim’s I*

3.) Horns Surrounding Me*

4.) In the Green Wild*

5.) Hello Stranger*

6.) Maxim’s II*

7.) He’s Running Through My Eyes

8.) This Is A True Heart

9.) City Appearing*

Album Highlight – *

Album Review: Lustmord – The Word As Power

by Rio Toro

Lustmord: The Word As Power

Similar Artists: Locrian & Mamiffer, Ben Frost, Robert Rich, Steve Roach

Genre: Dark Ambient, Drone, Religious Music

Label: Blackest Ever Black

There’s a whole lot of talented (as well as highly prolific) artists who seem to be devoting their lives to making dark ambient/drone music, and despite the time and patience that goes into making this so called “drone”, a whole lot of this niche feels disposable, and honestly, far from original. As great as Sunn O))) are, we don’t need dozens of artists to prove that to us by making what is essentially a “cover” version of the blackened ambient void that was so clearly perfected by the seattle duo a decade ago. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, for I’m in fact a huge fan of a lot of the music I seemed to have just dissed, but recently many of these releases have acted more like mood experiments to be played in your sleeping chamber rather than an album to return to time and time again.

However, if there’s one label whose interests seem to lie in broadening the horizons of this genre, it’s Blackest Ever Black, whose 2010 debut marked the release of the first Raime EP. By linking disparate strands of electronic music (industrial, techno, noise) with the accustomed droning ambience, groups such as Raime have proved that drone is a genre that is far from sterile.

Brian Williams, who has recorded as Lustmord since the 1980’s, is rightly credited as a progenitor of the dark ambient genre, so it seems appropriate that he makes his newest artistic leap on Blackest Ever Black. Still, with an overwhelming catalogue of music from the past three decades, it’s hard to really get excited about a new Lustmord release — especially when that release happens to be a two disk, 70 minute long statement based upon theological constructs.

With The Word As Power — Lustmord’s most ambitious and high profile release in years — we are treated to 7 ritualistic monstrosities that blur the line between holiness and wickedness, serenity and fearfulness. The pieces are largely led by a host of ethereal vocalists, such as Aina Olsen, Soriah, and Jarboe of Swans fame, whose voices are all largely untouched production wise — save for some slight reverb and the occasional echo. This is the first album in the artist’s 30 year career to focus so closely on vocals, so it really is astonishing that they are all executed with such dynamic precision. The second half of the album even features throat singing from a completely unrecognizable Maynard James Keenan. Due to the mostly ethereal voices, these tracks play out like ancient hymns being sung as a gift to the heavens — hence the title The Word As Power. This power is best represented during the 17 minute centerpiece “Chorazin”, in which the vocalist wavers around the same vocal line while reciting the word “holy” over and over again, such as it would be in a buddhist chant in order to obtain a higher state of being. Still, despite the presence of religion, people are going to find this music unnerving over anything else, like they are being taken through a state of divine retribution.

Even with the cast of vibrant vocalists, the album happens to be its most heart stopping when the instrumentation is at its full force. The tracks range from 5 minutes to 17, and it is during the longest pieces where the environment becomes the most frighteningly intense. Aside from quiet ambience, the instrumental landscape is made up of minimal organ chords, swirling black metal guitars tuned to abnormally low frequencies, threatening bass drops, slight percussion, and deformed ghostly howls which claw at us ominously from the distance.

It may sound like it isn’t all that different from your average dark ambient album, and although it isn’t quite groundbreaking, it does manages to stand out from the horde of followers due to the way it maintains a solid mood, while still changing up the dynamic with each track to keep things interesting. Furthermore, while it may not propel the genre into unchartered territory like other releases from the label have, it does exist as a singular statement within both the dark ambient and drone genres — which isn’t a thing that can be said very often. The Word As Power is a monolithic, expansive, and downright harrowing release from an artist working at the peak of his creativity.

Track Listing:

1.) Babel*

2.) Goetia

3.) Chorazin*

4.) Grigori*

5.) Andras Sodom

6.) Abaddon

7.) Y Gair

Album Highlight – *

ambient

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