Album Reviews

Album Review: Shipwrecks – Self Titled

Shipwrecks album cover by David Caspar
Standard

German post-rockers Shipwrecks released their eponymous three track EP back in 2015. I don’t remember how I stumbled upon it, but it was good enough to impress.

Without wanting to sound too much like a jaded old critic, let’s just say that it is becoming harder to find bands that truly stand out and excite within the post-rock genre. Shipwrecks managed to do so with just three songs.

Those three songs did them proud, earning them support slots touring Europe with Immanu El and Explosions In The Sky.

Two years later, they’ve followed up with a début album – also self titled.

Recording Shipwrecks is a romantic tale of a band locking themselves away in a remote cabin to write and rehearse. They’re a band that sticks to a DIY ethos to do as much as they could in-house. The guitarist oversaw recording and producing. David Caspar, the drummer collected earthy mixed media to make the striking album art. The band used old vintage equipment to capture those warm, rich tones. It almost sounds like a wholesome movie montage.

Not afraid to take their time, the band craft their build-ups. Because, as is the case with most post-rock, this is about long songs full of crescendos.

I find it difficult picking a stand-out track. All of them offer similar things, each with their own little nuances. Long, deliberate, and full of hope. Except the song “Maelstrom”, which feels more ominous than the rest of the tracks. It sounds like you’d expect from something with that name. Listen carefully and you’ll hear murky depths, with something deep underwater bubbling away.

I love the drumming on this album. Regular readers will know that I often focus on the drumming because I am a drummer myself. And this is my style of playing: hard hitting. Not fancy or technical, but packing a punch. Hit with purpose and allow the music space to breathe. There are distinct moments I hear that make me smile, like the when Caspar hits the bright ride bell *ping!* in “Monument”, or playing *dahdahdah DAH* around the kit in “Home”. And of course, he loves to throw in plenty of snare rolls.

As much as I love running a music blog, I find it hard to come up with new ways to describe music. I listen to (and write about) a lot of post-rock and so much of it blurs together. Some quiet picking, rising swells, big crescendo… Which band is this again? And without wanting to unfairly name names, I feel that some of the major players in the scene have released fairly uninspiring and forgettable records in recent years.

Shipwrecks have done well to stand out in a saturated scene. Only two releases in, and they already have a reputation.

Like their name suggests, when you stumble upon Shipwrecks, you’ve found something special. Like a precious sunken treasure, offering knowing references to a rich past. Building upon their influences, Shipwecks offer something familiar, yet not contrived. Nothing groundbreaking – just done well.

Shipwrecks. Image: Mirka Scheuer

Shipwrecks. Image: Mirka Scheuer

Shipwrecks is available via Sportklub Rotter Damm and Maniyax Records.

USA buyers can order through A Thousand Arms 

Shipwrecks links:

Website: http://shipwrecks-music.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/shipwrecksmusic

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shipwrecksmusic/

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCT02cwVPZTmCavhADv3qOoQ

Bandcamp: http://shipwrecks-music.bandcamp.com/

 

Joseph James

Album Review: Diary Of My Misanthropy – Leviathan

Diary of my Misanthropy Leviathan cover
Standard

I’m a sucker for dystopian texts. It all started at high school, when we read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World for English. For such an old work of literature, it was remarkably accurate at predicting how the world would change. I adopted this genre wholeheartedly, seeking out similar texts like George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm.

In this current era of militant nationalism and the revival of Nazism, I think that the more people are exposed to dystopian allegories, the better. They offer insight into how things will turn out if we refuse to keep our leaders accountable.

Clearly Prague post-metal band Diary Of My Misanthropy agree. Originally a solo project from Vladyslav Tsarenko, Diary Of My Misanthropy is now a full band, who have just released their dystopian-themed third album, Leviathan.

Ngake and Whātaitai

Ngake and Whātaitai the taniwha. Taken from the book The Taniwha of Wellington Harbour, by Moira Wairama. Illustration by Bruce Potter

For a digital-only release, Leviathan sure boasts some beautiful artwork. Images depict the skeleton of a Loch Ness monster-looking beast sitting upon a rocky lakeshore, looking out through the fog to an isolated cottage.

It reminds me of the local Māori myth of Ngake and Whātaitai, two taniwha (sea monsters) who – according to legend – formed the geology of Wellington harbour where I live. Whātaitai, the less adventurous of the two, tried to follow his friend and escape for the lake where he lived, only to become trapped at the mouth of the newly formed harbour, forced to helplessly watch as the land around him evolved.

The rest of the liner notes tell a story. During a dream you meet the beast, and he shows you the world, and how humanity has doomed it. On top of the story, the liner notes also prominently feature two quotes: one from the Black Mirror TV series, and another from Jacque Fresco. I am not familiar with either, so did some research. Both Black Mirror and Fresco ask us to critically examine how we use technology, and ask if we like the  humanity is headed.

I’m currently reading Kurt Vonnegut’s first novel, Player Piano. Anyone familiar with Vonnegut will know that he is the master of blending sci-fi with satire, using his wicked wit as easily digestible critique. Player Piano is set in a post-World War America run by super computers and machines. Although the mechanical revolution was first seen as “progress”, the automation of industry left most citizens without work, and thus fulfillment, creating a society sitting on unrest. Without knowing too much about Black Mirror or Jacque Fresco, I can draw marked parallels between their works and Player Piano.

I recently saw a band Staghorn play in St Loius. Like Diary Of My Misanthropy, Staghorn also boasted a post-apocalyptic theme set to post-rock. Staghorn had a spoken word narrative advancing their story as they played. Thinking of this, I assumed that Diary Of My Misanthropy would also have samples featured in their songs. It is a common post-rock convention, after all. Take Lost in Kiev, Platonick Dive and Maybeshewill, for example.

Surprisingly, despite writing a narrative to go with the album, the band doesn’t include them in their songs. We do, however, hear two spoken words quotes. And to be honest, as much as I expected some more spoken word, I think the album could have worked better without any at all. Fresco’s quote in “War Is Peace” hardly stands out in the mix. And the segment on “Black Mirror” – which borrows from the TV show of the same name – is abrasive and serves to interrupt rather than enhance the listening experience. I’m not a complete prude, but the excessive swearing feels gratuitous.

Diary Of My Misanthropy - Leviathan - IThe music is great. Post-metal with influences drawn from doom, industrial, and (dare I say it?) nu-metal. The trio layer their sounds with expertise to create depth and dynamics.

They traverse the spectrum well, from lush textured moments to heavy overdriven segments. Chuggy doom-laden riffs sit next to glitchy electro-beats. Pleasant guitar strumming turns into a monstrous solo as soon as evolving back into padded swells. I can’t fault it. 

The mix between high and low-end balance out well. I dislike when “heavy” music focuses too much on bass and distortion.And Diary Of My Misanthropy are heavy, but strike a balance with high-pitched guitar, keys and brighter drum cymbals bringing in treble.

As a drummer, I find the drumming tasteful and interesting – articulate, smart. I like how the keys are played like an actual piano – more organic sounding that the synths that dominate most music these days. Not to say this sounds “natural” – there are plenty of effects playing havoc with tones – but the overall mix sounds crisp. It sounds like people playing instruments with the help of technology, not computers making music with human input.

As was the case in my Masters Of This Land review, I feel that my analyzing of the politics and themes behind this body of work is perhaps overbearing. I’m drawing comparisons to literature and mythology at the expense of critiquing the actual music. However, I wonder: does this signify quality in art? I’m engaging with it at a deeper level, making connections to other works and reading into possible meanings. Great art demands interaction; is evocative, which is the antithesis to passiveness.

Leviathan is excellent. I can endorse the music, artwork and themes. If you feel compelled to check it out, take time to read through the liner notes for the full experience.

Diary Of My Misanthropy links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DiaryOfMyMisanthropy

Bandcamp: https://diaryofmymisanthropy.bandcamp.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/diaryofmymisanthropy

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/diary-of-my-misanthropy

Merch: http://diaryofmymisanthropy.bigcartel.com/

 

Joseph James

Album Review: Slowrun – Passage

Slowrun
Standard

I want to say the year was 2003.

It was an unusually hot October morning hovering around 2AM.  Stepping out onto my back porch to have a smoke, I peered up into the sky.  At first I wasn’t quite sure at what I was looking.  I can admit to you now that I was actually a little nervous.  It looked completely alien.  Unnatural.  Running down the driveway to get a better view, I was both filled with elation and trepidation.

I stood in the middle of the street and shot my eyes skyward once again.  Before me were beautifully swirling patterns floating listlessly in the dark.  Bright reds and purples suspended impossibly, undulating like airborne waves on an alien planet.  I would learn days later that the sun had experienced a large coronal mass ejection, throwing it’s plasma towards Earth.  I had witnessed an aurora borealis.  And it changed me utterly.

Finnish post-rock band Slowrun knows a thing or two about auroras.  Roiling swells of so many colors, rippling like whitecaps soft enough to sail upon.  The area of Lapland can actually get immigrants moving to the area in search of the mystical Northern Lights.  To live in an expanse so blessed to be able to experience something so magical can make one envious.  In 2003 when I accidentally spied my own borealis (and only due to a once in a lifetime solar storm) it changed my entire perspective on life and the universe.  It shook something loose within me.  I couldn’t shake the experience.  I still can’t.

I bring this up because there are moments in all of our lives where something gets rattled loose; the veil is lifted from our eyes and we begin to see things more clearly.  Sometimes it is one big momentous experience.  Others it’s a series of small earthquakes over time.  Many times it’s a minor, mundane change in our headspace.  Still others it’s a tumultuous life changing event.  This happened to me in 2003.

It happened again in 2007.

I always enjoy hearing how people got introduced to the post-rock genre.  I’m probably considered a later comer.  I first became aware of the genre that would ultimately own almost ever fiber of my being purely on accident.  A lot like how I witnessed the aurora borealis.  I was watching the movie Friday Night Lights.  I didn’t know who or what the background music was, but suddenly the story and dialogue were no longer important.  I didn’t care.  All I knew is that whatever or whoever was playing in the background, it moved something inside of me.  I again felt something rattle loose.  I wanted more.  Again, I couldn’t shudder the feeling.  It was full of hope and moroseness.  Vindication and purpose.  I would soon devour everything the genre had to offer and, 10 years later, I haven’t slowed down.

Slowrun’s 2-song EP “Passage” gives me the feeling of 2007 all over again.  I almost instantly feel nostalgic and start to yearn for slower, easier days.  I’m not the same person I was in 2007 and bands like Slowrun have a lot to do with that.  They are able to capture the genre in a time when it was crawling through my veins and terraforming my soul.  Slowrun doesn’t play overzealous chord progressions chock-full of filler.  And they certainly aren’t in any hurry to get anywhere.  They let their songs build in slow motion upon the reluctant breakers of an aurora.  They build so impossibly slow into a ground swell that once the song breaks you feel swept up as into a storm.  The heavier portions are well measured and few and far between, but never cliche.

Slowrun

A lot of fans of the genre have grown restless with the quiet-loud-quiet recipe of post-rock.  I’ve stated in another review that I can understand their sentiment, but I can also admit that there’s plenty of room in the genus for bands that don’t necessarily feel the need to rewrite the book on instrumental rock.  There’s something sentimental about Slowrun’s writing that I find a bit infectious.  They aren’t going to score any points for pushing the limits of post-rock, but they don’t necessarily need to.  The band has a clear and composed approach to song writing.  Not every band needs to bring a thousand samples and a degree in noise shaping to the table in order to create a beautifully written tune. Slowrun is analytical in their approach.  They’ve come to convey an idea and they refuse to muddy the waters.  This is what I loved about post-rock when I first got in to the scene.  Sure, sometimes it was a bit formulaic, but it was comfortable and safe.

Slowrun has another record entitled “Resonance” released in December of 2015 (listen to the track Introspection).  It, too, is well worth a pick up and deserving of a review.  With “Resonance” the band really shows off its chops.  “Passage” is just that.  A portal into a new chapter for the band.  You can hear a sense of maturity growing in this latest 2-song release.  It’s tranquil but troubled.  It’s clear-sighted and contemplative.  “Passage” is why I fell in love with post-rock in the first place a decade ago.  If you need reminding of what it was about this genre that rattled something loose within you, starting a fire in your belly, you should (re)start with “Passage”.

Slowrun links:

Album Review: Vorn – The Winter Session

Standard

Vorn is a twisted genius.

The man is brilliant. One of the more able musicians I know. Listen to his works and you’ll find him spanning hip-hop, rock, pop, blues, disco … uh … polka… Look, he’s diverse, OK?

He’s also sick in the head. He sings about drowning puppies and delays on the railways caused by suicides. My favourite two Vorn songs are about buying condoms and weed. But his music is good enough that people tolerate his content to the point that no-one has called the authorities yet.

Vorn

Never one to miss a chance for ironic humour, for the video Vorn has the entire band dressed in camo, meaning that you can’t actually see them.

For the latest album, The Winter Session, Vorn has taken a different direction. He and his band recorded and filmed the entire album in a continuous take, like a self-indulgent prog-rock band. Recording 50 minutes of music without break provides challenges. It necessitates good flow. There isn’t the same opportunity to re-tune or rest.

This can be seen as a downside because the music isn’t as varied as we have come to expect from previous Vorn records. At the same time, it makes the album cohesive. We still get a small cross-section of the music spectrum – the hip-hop track towards the end stands out – it just all feels same-y.

The Winter Session has a strong electronica vibe, relying heavily on synths, keyboards and effects like looping pedals. The inclusion of violin provides an interesting baroque-meets-new-wave feel.

In many ways The Winter Session contains elements expected from your typical Vorn record – witty, self-aware lyrics that see-saw between braggadocious and self-loathing; harmonised chanting; catchy choruses; crisp drums with strong focus on alternating sticking on the hi-hats; the signature violin; Vorn’s falsetto; sheer weirdness… But long instrumental interludes bridging songs and the over-saturation of sci-fi sounds add new flavour to the Vorn arsenal. I especially like the tabla beat on the midi keyboard that complement the drums at one point.

Because he is so odd and quirky, Vorn is doomed to both critical praise and public indifference. Thankfully in recent years some of NZ acts who dare to be different have garnered success (Kimbra and Lorde), but it’s still a tall-poppy market. Singing with a Kiwi accent is borderline heresy, so Vorn may as well burn himself at the stake.

But at the end of the day, this is the main thing you need to take away from watching The Winter Session: Vorn has a fender squier strapped to his front for the duration of the recording, but spends the whole time playing keyboards instead of riffing on his guitar.

Who would have expected something so pretentious from a dude from Taranaki sporting a mullet?

Vorn links:

https://vornnz.bandcamp.com/

http://www.youtube.com/vornography

http://www.powertoolrecords.co.nz/

Joseph James <3 Vorn and has drummed with him on a few occasions separate from Vorn’s main project.

Album Review: Julien Baker – Turn Out The Lights

Julien Baker Turn Out The Lights
Standard

Julien Baker’s voice is a show stopper.

I remember the first time I heard it. I was listening through a compilation – a fundraiser for the victims of the Orlando shootings last year. There was a few punk and emo bands I liked that had caught my interest, plus a handful of artists that I hadn’t heard of. Baker’s contribution came on and I stopped what I was doing.

Who. Is. That?!

It was the part in “Rejoice” where Baker really starts belting it out: “I think there’s a God and he hears either waaaa-aaaa-aaa-aaaay”. What a voice!

A quick Google search led me to Bandcamp, and within minutes after I’d downloaded Baker’s album, Sprained Ankle. It became my go-to for times that I wanted to listen to something quiet and relaxing – that wind-down album for just before bed.

It quickly became apparent that I wasn’t the only one who had stumbled upon Baker. I began spotting her name more and more frequently – a Noisey article here, an interview there. Friends shared her Audiotree session on nerdy Facebook music groups. All who heard her voice fell in love [save for Arctic Drones writer Foofer, who remains staunchly opposed to her “Tumblr girl emo music”].

Now I’m not usually one to listen to lyrics. Post-rock – a generally vocal-less genre – dominates my listening habits. And my favourite band, Biffy Clyro, sing nonsense. But Baker’s music is so stark that I can’t help but pick up on what she’s singing.

She covers some heavy content. Identifying as both gay and Christian, she finds herself in a conundrum. Is she loved? Is she condemned to hell? Many of her songs explore the theme of acceptance.

The lyric that caught me off guard:

“If I could do what I want, I’d become an electrician
I’d crawl inside my ears and I’d rearrange the wires in my brain”

And then, just to up the ante, the following song starts with this verse:

“I used to never wear a seatbelt ’cause I said I didn’t care what happened
And I didn’t see the point in trying to save myself from an accident”

… woah. That’s heavy.

That sucks. To feel that you are a mistake, that you shouldn’t be who you are. Although the music is relatable. Who hasn’t felt self-doubt at some point of their life?

I find her struggle compelling, and hope that she can come to terms with who she is in a way that stops hurting. Sadly, as much as I sympathise with her, I feel that the emotion she injects into her music is what sets it apart in the first place. By channeling her pain she can summon something within that truly stands out when she releases it.

Sad Tumblr girl emo music indeed. But Baker’s articulate honesty resonates. And the music supports it perfectly. Sombre piano twinkling and tender guitar picking. Violin enhances the music at times, but on the whole its a case of simple arrangements to support the key attraction: Baker’s voice.

Baker has an incredible voice. Raw and emotive, she simply shines. Some tracks use vocal layering to great effect, with Baker both softly cooing, and belting out harmonies in the background. Just listen to the chorus on the title track. There’s nothing quite like hearing a good singer let loose like that. Goosebump material for sure. As nice as the fragile singing sounds, it feels so satisfying to hear her defiant screams against rejection.

Whatever your reason, give this powerful, intimate and cathartic masterpiece a listen.

Julien Baker links:

Buy/stream Turn Out The Lights: http://mat-r.co/TurnOutTheLights

Website: http://julienbaker.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/julienrbaker

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/julienrbaker/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/julienrbaker/

 

Joseph James