There is no light in
this world of darkness. The cities, once a surplus of activity and motion, now
lie still in the wake of the all-consuming emptiness. Here there is no god,
there is no government, and there are no survivors. The wasteland is littered
with the bloodied trophies of mankind’s arrogance; ashes of towering
skyscrapers and twisted remnants of the most advanced vehicles are all that remain
of man’s former glory. Desolation. There is silence... nothing moves.
Years pass. Black waves
wash over the wreckage; their steady rhythm is the only timekeeper. The cold
has engulfed the landscape and Mother Nature is long dead. Life is a lost
memory, a forgotten dream. Time stops. The earth becomes formless, a void in
space... a black hole. Everything is sucked back into the cosmic abyss from
whence it came...
Then
there is nothing.
A new day has begun; today
the soil gives back to its mother. The glare of a dying sun illuminates the
earth and darkness is forced to lurk underground once more. The winter has
ended. Vegetation sprouts up from the ground until foliage covers every square
inch. Rivers tear through the terrain, feeding the soil around them. Everywhere
there is life - the death of man.
And then She speaks. “I
am your new mother,” she says, “beginning.”
Ever since Sigur Rós took
their breathtakingly beautiful, otherworldly-sounding compositions to an
international stage in 1999, they have been heading towards a sound governed
less by their Icelandic roots and more by their innate ability to create songs
that resonate on an emotional level. Whereas Ágætis Byrjun and ( ) made strong use of the band’s foreign sensibilities,
subsequent albums began to rely less on this aspect, with the songwriting taking
precedence. Yet Sigur Rós have not often dared to venture too far out of their
comfort zone, with last year’s ambient-leaning Valtari honing in on the more minimalist elements of their
signature sound.
If Brennisteinn is any indication, all that is about to change. With
the upcoming release of their seventh studio album Kveikur later this year, Brennisteinn
points towards an overall darker and sludgier sound that the band has not
channelled since the second half of 2002’s untitled masterpiece. The title
track, which is also due to appear as the opener on the new album, sees Sigur
Rós experimenting with harsher, more abrasive electronic elements grating over
the top of Jónsi’s trademark vocals. Conflicting aspects such as these have
only been used sparingly in the past but here Jónsi’s falsetto shines through
the haze like a ray of light and it works brilliantly. The same can be said of
“Hryggjarsúla” which sounds more like the kind of droning nightmare Michael
Gira would conjure up rather than anything from the band’s back catalogue. Finally,
instrumental track “Ofbirta” hearkens back to the dark ambient style of Von, perhaps the most ominous Sigur Rós
had sounded prior to this.
Although no two albums
of theirs sound exactly alike, this is the first time we are really hearing
something of a reinvention from the group. As just a small taste of what’s to
come, Brennisteinn certainly achieves
its goal of whetting the appetite and fans will have to wait another few months
before getting to hear the final product.
Michael
Gira is a man who revels in misery. After his uncompromisingly brutal work with
Swans in the 1980s (which remains some of the heaviest music ever recorded),
Gira turned to more subdued forms of anguish and depression in the following
decade. Proving that he didn’t necessarily have to be loud to get his point
across, Swans became rooted in dark, psychedelic folk rock for a few albums
before exploring the worlds of drone, post-rock and ambient music on their 1996
opus Soundtracks for the Blind. That
album would signal the end of Swans until their surprising reunion in 2010, and
it was during this period that Michael Gira began a new project known as The
Angels of Light.
The
Angels of Light took a far more song-based approach than Swans, focusing on
melody and harmony rather than cacophonous noise and jarring rhythms. Dabbling
in folk and country music, their 1999 debut album New Mother only hinted at what was to come a couple of years later.
Whereas New Mother featured a massive
17 songs, How I Loved You almost equals
its colossal 70-odd minute runtime in only 10 tracks. The reason for this lies
in the latter’s ability to allow the songs to grow and sprawl over Gira’s
barren soundscapes. Opener “Evangeline” almost effortlessly combines country
with post-rock, a weird combination to say the least, but it works perfectly.
The song builds slowly, subtly going from a simple acoustic guitar riff into an
emotional climax with the full band, and the line “I can feel it now” being
repeated as the music dies down. It’s a wonderful start to the album and this
continues into “Untitled Love Song,” replete with female vocals and beautiful
melodies.
“My
True Body,” however, bears more in common with Swans due to the dark subject
matter and occasionally shouted vocals. “New City in the Future” is another
sinister-sounding track that erupts towards the end of its 12 minutes with Gira
screaming “You were mine” like a madman. This forms the centrepiece of the
album and unfortunately sets in motion the few mediocre numbers that follow,
with “New York Girls” being the chief culprit. It’s not a bad song by any means,
but it doesn’t really go anywhere to justify its length. Thankfully the best is
saved for last with “Two Women,” perhaps the most brilliant song in the whole Angels
of Light discography. Like the opener, it’s a sprawling epic that builds
towards a magnificent climax. This time around, though, the real beauty is
contained within the final minute as the music begins to fade away and Gira
mutters the words “I can’t live without you... goodbye Jane.” That moment alone
makes the whole album worth getting through, even though there are some
typically oppressive and even frightening moments to withstand.
How I Loved You marked the end of an era for The
Angels of Light, as the next few releases slowly began to realise the sound that
would lead to the eventual reformation of Swans. Nevertheless, this album
remains the pinnacle of the band’s work and it would take Michael Gira another
11 years before his potential was this fully realised again.
“What’s
done is done. The mistakes you’ve made stand forever.”
For anyone interested
in hearing just what Jacob Bannon sounds like when he’s not screaming his lungs
out for legendary hardcore band Converge, this is essential listening. “Adrift
in You” is Bannon’s second solo release (after 2008’s “The Blood of Thine
Enemies”) and his first under the Wear Your Wounds moniker. Whereas “The Blood
of Thine Enemies” was a slow, ambient/drone dirge, “Adrift in You” sounds
altogether more uplifting and hopeful. There are none of Bannon’s trademark
panther-vocals here as the track brings to mind post-punk legends The Cure and
Killing Joke as well as the dreamlike atmosphere of My Bloody Valentine.
There’s even the noisy Swans-like drums that leave Bannon’s vocals buried deep
in the mix, a technique that suits the song perfectly. If “Adrift in You” is
anything to go by the full-length should be worth the wait.
Ben Chisholm (of
Chelsea Wolfe fame) makes up the other side of this split under the name
Revelator. “Net of Gems” complements the Wear Your Wounds track perfectly as
its bleaker, more sombre counterpart. There are strong ambient influences here
and the song exudes a spacey atmosphere that is easy to get lost in. The drums
are subtle but effective (think of the second-half of Sigur Rós’ Untitled Album) and suit the atmosphere
created by the piano and electronics brilliantly. Although “Net of Gems” is
built around its impressive use of minimalism and restraint, the song never
feels like it’s dragging or moving along aimlessly. In fact, it builds up to a
disorienting climax that doesn’t compromise any of the ethereal ambience that
has gone before it.
In conclusion, this is
a highly impressive release that shows a lot of potential for both artists.
Although the split is very short and it sounds as though the songs would work
much better in an album context, this is well worth checking out if you’re a fan
of the musicians involved or any kind of experimental rock in general.
