GOG - "In Our Architecture This Resounds" (2012) [King of the Monsters Records]

The last we heard from GOG, I was having a grand old time drooling all over the masterful Malpais, his collaboration with fellow southwestern experimental musician William Fowler Collins released last year on Utech Records. With my interest piqued in the time after digesting that particular record, as well as seeing both musicians in action at the Utech Records Music Festival last Summer, I found myself digging into AZ native Mike Bjella's back-catalog. I quickly learned that the deep haze found on Malpais was a little out of character for the GOG project, which, in previous releases on Land of Decay, Utech, and Bjella's own label "Sounds of Battle and Souvenir Collecting," opted more for pitch black guitar ooze. A primordial and menacing exercise in "amplifier worship" guitar drone, I had my headphones ready and my ears prepared for a subsonic journey through Hell itself...

...which, oddly enough, I didn't get! Though there is an undeniable darkness about double-LP In Our Architecture This Resounds, released earlier this year on King of the Monsters Records, there is an embracing of magnificent harmonic overtones which, juxtaposed against the thick, trudging drones and textured noise which emanate from Bjella's amplifier, creates a sort of balance which often goes unused, left, and ignored in the drone scene. Where most drone artists concentrate on the separate spheres of "pretty/ethereal/emotional" and "ugly/detached/inhuman," this current incarnation of GOG, a trio of Bjella, Ernst Sonnenbrand, and Gordon Heckaman, embraces both ends of the spectrum, resulting in a near-organic mixture of light and dark. If anything this album is sort of "purgatoric," if that's even a word; you, the listener, are aware of the vast opposites which surround your stasis, and yet, thanks to your current state, you can only accept each as what they are: light and its absence. That isn't to say this album is stagnant like Purgatory's stasis, but merely a middle ground where both exist in the forms of harsh cymbal scrapes, temperamental effects loops, plodding percussion (a first for GOG!) and surprisingly melodic puddles of guitar.

In Our Architecture This Resounds shows a new, unexpected face of GOG. A beautiful and harrowing exit from pure guitar drone into the world of perfectly textured, well-rounded experimental music, I can only excitedly imagine where Bjella will take GOG next. A beautifully packaged white-vinyl 2LP, In Our Architecture This Resounds comes with a magnificent 33"x22" foldout poster, depicting the full artwork by Sandro Setola. Though limited to 220 copies, you can still find some direct from the label here.

-Jon

Blood of the Black Owl - "Light the Fires!" (2012) [Bindrune Recordings]

It has been a long, hot Summer, so miserably dry that even the slightest misting from above is celebrated. The grass is scorched, the trees are dying, the crops won't grow...frankly, it sucks. With the change in seasons just around the corner (just a little over a month away, now), one can only hope that the falling leaves of Autumn bring whatever life it can back to the ground before it's covered with snow for however long Chicago thinks it is necessary. Though the Midwestern heatwave hasn't affected Northwestern woodland denizen Chet W. Scott, the return of his normally doom metal-oriented project Blood of the Black Owl seems to be the perfect catalyst to bring about Autumn's onset with his latest effort, Light the Fires!

Having digested the surprise Blood of the Black Owl split with Scott's bandmate in The Elemental Chrysalis's, one James Woodhead, project At the Head of the Woods, I wasn't really sure about the future releases of Blood of the Black Owl. With the "demise" of his main project, Ruhr Hunter, during Blood of the Black Owl's supposed extended hiatus, it seems that Scott merely merged the two projects together, resulting in the twenty-five minutes of deep, ritual-based ambient which was Scott's half of the Handmade Birds split. Beginning with a lengthy invocation around the Laguz rune in the opening track "Caller of Spirits", it became fully apparent that Light the Fires! is Scott fully revealing a new face to his Blood of the Black Owl project.

To those of you who were used to Blood of the Black Owl's existence as a metal project, like I was, the first listen of the almost entirely non-metal Light the Fires! will prove to be a difficult one. Aside from the odd-man out doom metal track "Sundrojan" and the gradual build to metal in "Soil Magicians," Scott foregoes the project's usual soulcrushing, distorted doom and moosecall vocals for calming, 70s progressive rock-influenced folk. Yes, this stylistic break is odd, seeing as Blood of the Black Owl has been a meditation in massive, tree-smashing doom since the days of Svart Ugle almost seven years ago, yet Scott's trademark, Shamanic forest worship is still the centerpiece of the project, which, in the end, was the sole reason why he founded this project in the first place. Utilizing intriguing guitar counterpoint, a variety of flute-range woodwinds, autoharp, drums, and perhaps the most intricate basswork seen in any of Chet Scott's projects, Light the Fires! is the perfect soundtrack to forest montages: meditative, solemn, and with a sense of isolationism which can only come from living among the trees without any human contact.

Though most of the album has a wonderful flow, with tracks leading into one another and a thematic scope which ties it together, I can't help but feel that "Sundrojan" was put in haphazardly. That's not to say that it isn't a good track, as it would have fit on the first two albums nicely, but putting a full-on doom metal track in the middle of a modern almost-neofolk album like this just seems reckless. I'm not saying that this track doesn't fit in the scope of the album overall, as highlighted by the massive doom metal climax of "Soil Magicians," it's just that there's no buildup or herald to the stylistic change within the album in "Sundrojan" like there was within the tasteful buildup and cohesive fusion in "Soil Magicians" and "Disgust and the Horrible Realization of Apathy." "Sundrojan" might be the lame duck of Light the Fires!, but, since it still is of the same caliber of previous releases, I still find myself enjoying the track all the same.

The near-80-minute length might be intimidating on paper, but Light the Fires!'s hypnotic gait proves it to be enjoyable, however long it is. However different it might be, I'd like to think this newer direction, which still respectfully hints at the past, is a successful one. Though a pre-order has not been announced just yet, Marty of Bindrune Recordings has graciously made it available to stream for free from the Bindrune Bandcamp. Another successful chapter in Chet W. Scott's musical career. Now, how about a new Elemental Chrysalis album?

-Jon

Sutcliffe Jugend - "Blue Rabbit" (2012) [Crucial Blast]

I'll freely admit, I haven't really kept up on Sutcliffe Jugend's output. My initial exposure was mp3 versions of the "We Spit on Their Graves" 10-cassette box (which you can buy on Amazon, as strange as that is), and I never really felt the need for more. Ten cassettes worth of destructive harsh noise is more than I'll ever hear from most performers, and it was damned good stuff

Somewhere in the intervening 30 years, though, Tomkins/Taylor transitioned from destroying anything Whitehouse did to something I wouldn't put past a modern electroacoustic composer who happened also to be a torture killer on the side.

I made a horrible mistake when I opened the digipack. I did not simply take the CD out and put it on. Nooo. I chose to read the lovely little short story printed inside; the text of the title track. It's a children's story, for parents who want to come home to the self-mutilated corpses of their children. Tomkins tells the story calmly, his voice wrapped in unsettling shifting synthesized drones.

Each, ah, song on Sutcliffe Jugend's new record is a distinct play on this approach; instead of traditional angry, harsh power electronics, each is a work of unease, dread, and horror. I give the artists full credit for managing to make concrete and recorded the feeling of the worst nightmares, but the stories here are not for humans with a desire to function. I have to shut off memories of this album when I'm not listening to it, and I forget the stories the same way I do nightmares. Not pleasant.

Myrrh - "Myrrh" (2012) [Soft Abuse]

Vinyl reissue of the long gone debut tape from Minneapolis psych-droners Myrrh, here given a necessary remaster and an improved layout from Minneapolis label Soft Abuse.  This recording showcases the more obscure side of the Twin Cities music scene, and alongside Taiga, Soft Abuse is one of the finer suppliers of outre and brain-melting sounds our musical community offers.  Having recently played a show with Myrrh, I can attest to their incredibly crushing, dense, and narcoleptic soundscaping, and this LP release is a much-needed wider introduction to a band who deserve critical and popular appreciation beyond the sometimes narrow scope of Minneapolis ears.  Harnessing the awesome drone theatrics of Earth and melding them to the lobe-scraping expanse of vintage psychonauts like Trad, Gras, Och Stenar and Amon Duul, Myrrh simply force open the third eye by way of their mesmerizing viola/drum excursions into the great nothingness, creating fire out of sludge and carrying it down the mountain for the good of all.

For a duo, Myrrh froth up an astounding amount of sonic destructionism.  The viola's capabilities as a drone/pyschedelic instrument are on full display throughout, with Jackie Beckey's playing becoming something almost ritualistic across the record's stretch.  Giant bowed lines collapse in on themselves and transform into scathing squalls of screaming feedback, transmissions from an ancient cosmos beamed into the listener's linearity via intense distortions and significant amounts of delays and self-samplings.  Appreciators of Bardo Pond's more modern work will find many similarities to Myrrh's approach as well as much to fall in love with; what the Philadelphia sludge-lords do with five members Myrrh easily achieve with only two.  Having seen both units live, I can honestly say this comparison is without hyperbole (although to be fair, the incarnation of Myrrh that I saw included a third member on lap steel guitar, and the volume was staggering); the focused intensity in Myrrh's approach elevates their compositions to an almost theatrical level of transcendent splendour, a resounding call to break down the walls of reality and throw oneself full into the truly astral.  Like Bardo Pond, Myrrh seem to embrace a level of awakened sense through various organic means; the lazy quality of the music bemoans inner transformation and altered awarenesses.  Free float and abandon consciousness and you shall be rewarded; the tethers connecting one to the corporeal are tenuous and translucent at best, utterly transparent and begging to be forgotten.  Myrrh achieve that spaciness without any sort of pretense: their music simply exists in the moment, void of concern for the physicality around them.

But the physical is not forsaken.  Myrrh occupy an immense amount of sonic ground; all of the feedback and sky-tearing whine is anchored by an obstinate and relentlessly simplistic drum performance by Andie Mazorol (of local psych-agitators Mother Of Fire) that thunders down on the head like a wet mattress dropped from a skyscraper.  There's no flash or showiness present in Mazorol's playing, just a deep understanding of the constant that hearkens back to the glory days of head-nodding, fried out krautrock and wasted psychedelia.  The drums lock in to the "riffs" in the most conjoined way; the two instruments interact and feed off of each other constantly, creating an unshakable aura of unity that opens the door to a parade of flashing lights and towering visuals.  I'm astounded that Myrrh sound as murkily thick as they do; volume like this necessitates a certain drowned out sound, and the deep reverberations are as much of "Earth 2" as they are Neu!.  This is music that will lull you, stoke the simmering inner fires of consciousness and then shoot you into the coldest reaches of outer space.  Endless black and pulsing scathes of brittle stars stratifying themselves, altered states and heightened senses reaching into the great infinity to bring back a relic from outside the known.  Myrrh serve as transport, as a vehicle for moving beyond the known and getting into the oft-indefinable sense of the self.

This is the sort of record that makes me happy to be part of the Twin Cities community.  Too often we're tied to an enormous amount of mediocre bullshit and too often our local rags perpetuate that mediocrity with continued (and seemingly endless) coverage of the same ten or so musicians doing the same three things they've always collectively done (I won't name names, but just take a tour through the cover stories of the City Pages, or even worse, the yearly "Picked to Click" awards, to see the familiar faces I'm referencing), and there's no room or appreciation for innovation and "outside the sphere of commonality" influences.  Groups like Myrrh help dispel the idea of Minneapolis as singer/songwriter territory and make a case for us as a birthplace for some seriously damaged, wasted, hypnotic, and uncompromising slacker-drone squalor.  The LP version of "Myrrh" is available now through Soft Abuse; order a copy and watch reality recede into a hazed out blur of melting brain waves and throbbing bass nodules.  While you're there pick up some of the great shit they've released from the might Steven R. Smith under his "rock" guises, Ulaan Khol and Ulaan Markhor as well as the vaguely ancient and hermetic traditionalisms of his wonderful Hala Strana project.  You'll pretty much wash yourself away in a cloud of dripping psychedelic ethereality.  One of Minneapolis' finest bands, on one of our finest labels.

-Cory

Northumbria - "Northumbria" (2012) [TQA Records]

Absolutely drop-dead gorgeous swathe of thick droning guitar ambiance from Toronto project Northumbria.  Utilizing extreme volume and a completely improvisatory approach (everything here having been recorded live), the duo of Jim Field (guitar) and Dorian Williamson (bass) build up dense architectures of electrified onslaught coerced into shades of severe and heartbreaking beauty, arriving at a sound somewhere between the stoic grandeur and melodicism of Sigur Ros and the gigantic tones of classic Earth.  This is extremely serious and structured sound, based on an innate sense of communication between two people dialed in to one another almost exactly, creating a complex and intricate web of syrupy, flowing electricity married to the cavernous aesthetics of drone overlords like Troum and Eliane Radigue.  It's a near-perfect debut record, an awesome statement of both intent and artistry.  Everything here works together; music, design, and artwork all cohere into a distinct and organic vision, giving the impression of several hands becoming one.  In that sense I'm reminded of units like Wolves in the Throne Room: the musical and personal bond between the members is so strong it can't help but display itself in the shared artistic output that both references and transcends its influences.

That comparison goes a little further with Northumbria.  While obviously not a black metal project in any sense, they do share some similarities to more atmospheric BM projects (and not just because of their logo, designed by "lord of the logos" himself, Christophe Szpajdel) in both sound and aestheticism.  The massive reverberations felt and heard throughout "Northumbria" betray a familiarity with projects like Paysage d'Hiver and Lustre and the lovely visuals that accompany the record display a fondness for churches, candlelight, decay, and the overwhelming majesty of the natural world.  Northumbria are one of few bands to actually nail that sense of expansiveness with their music; every track here extends itself out into the world alongside the listener's consciousness and the end result is a feeling of being engulfed, by both the sheer weight of the sonics and the glacial vistas they so effectively conjure.  I'm reminded heavily of Werner Herzog's journeys to the Arctic across the album's span, the focus on endless washes of beautiful nothingness suggesting the utter immensity of the universe and mankind's diminutive place within it, an ever-growing blur of both vision and sound.  This is the sort of recording that makes you feel smaller than yourself, each piece pulling you further into yourself, wanting you to arrive at a subconscious terminus where the body and the corporeal surrender to the purer manifestations of a cosmic intellect.  There is a truth that we're slowly growing deaf to.  Individualization becomes a barrier to a greater sense of community and collectiveness, a oneness that we should share with the world.  Identity is derived from psychological malady, itself a rotten tendril branching off of modernity and cultural collapse.  We've lost touch with the true actual.  The aching beauty found in the work of groups like Northumbria serves as a reminder of what is truly worthwhile.  That belief in the power of nature and commonality firmly allies the group with more culturally regressive black metal projects; Northumbria's mastery of the language imbues their music with an emotional heft comparable to that of Mogwai or Sigur Ros at their most heart-crushing.

I feel like I'm weighing everything down with superlatives.  I find myself struggling because for me this is the sort of record that goes beyond any sort of easy intellectual appreciation.  There's something here that defies categorization or explanation.  It's past words; much like experiencing Sigur Ros, it simply has to be felt and taken in to be understood.  This is music meant to be experienced physically, hence the enormous volume (even the band themselves urge listeners to play the album as loud as possible); "Northumbria" was recorded in a church and mastered by James Plotkin, so you really get a sense of the intent.  The volume becomes something greater than the music, a vehicle for transcendence and transformation; so too the instrumentation.  Guitars and bass, as recognizable as they are to us in the now, become something altogether more unique and towering.  They become raw experience, torn from a specific moment and wrought into the language of immediate emotion.  Each held note exists as a testament to some sort of inner yearning, a desire unfulfilled or a dream gone unrealized.  When those notes erupt into feedback it's a glorious acceptance of the unknowability of your experience; anything could happen in any number of ways.  Like Mogwai, Northumbria turn sadness and sorrow into a magnificent sense of triumph, an eruption of frustration and angst that slowly transforms itself into exuberance and resilience.  The drones here are far from flat, instead gorging themselves with poignancy and beckoning you ever further in.  It's hard to believe this stuff is improvised, but I believe it really is.  There's a joy and spontaneity here that eclipses any notion of composition or technique.  To borrow from the black metal world again, it's difficult for me to see anything being much more "true" than this.  Like improvisational contemporaries Skullflower, the goal is moving beyond the physical.  Whether the chosen path is dark or light is irrelevant; it simply has to be illuminated.  Northumbria dazzle the listener in a flux of white beaming light and beckon you to follow them to the other side of it.

"Northumbria" is a very special record.  There is something here larger than the good majority of what's available.  Everything about this release commands focused attention.  The design and packaging are exquisite; photographs and inserts accompany a lovely matte envelope and a monochromatic color scheme that reinforce the stoic and wintry feeling of the music as a whole.  There's an emotional resonance here that I can't deny, and can only compare to other artists whose work has moved me in such a deep and profound manner.  Like Birchville Cat Motel or Sigur Ros (again, I know, but they're really the best example of what I'm striving for) or Lyrinx or Troum, there's is something magical here.  This is music free of contrivance and totally immersed in a larger concern, an astral concern.  These are the sounds you hear in the clouds, in the oceans, in the deepest forests, at the tops of mountains, inside the stars.  This music wants you existing inside of it, free of the lurid banality of the modern world.  You are welcome here.  It's indescribable, and I cannot recommend it more highly.  One of my favorites of 2012, easily.  Stunning.

-Cory

Yami Kurae - "La Sposa Della Stagno" (2011) [Crucial Blast]

Yami Kurae is an electro-acoustic project that leans most heavily on the "acoustic" side of that, but continues to embrace sounds for themselves as sounds; their works, despite using an array of notes that many woulod reject as "not notes" or "not in tune" across star-patterned rhythmic structures, show clear and effective structuring and development.

If that sounds dry, zoom in for a moment. Star-patterned. Try staring some night at the stars; bring your violin and a close friend. Play the stars to each other; repeat their words, and when you can, begin a conversation in the tongue of their night-time glimmers. That, on a small scale, is a touch of the vision that Yami Kurae reflected in this release.

Yami Kurae also bend the star-tongue to primal humanity and the heartbeat-rituals that people find without language. They use more instruments--whether prepared strings or assorted percussion and tape, I couldn't say--but La Sposa Della Stagno (the Bride of the Pond) is a retelling of an ancient fairytale created with instruments, voices, tape, and the narration that the constellations speak, with thirty-some pages of beautiful, developing artwork.

They've been criminally neglected, so there's a chance you might be able to find one of the copies of this release.

-V.