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It’s often difficult to write a review about an album created out of negative space. L’appel du Vide, Ashen Swan’s latest record, is a lesson in embracing oblivion. It’s a lesson in recognizing that there’s much more to music than packing it full of notes and flourishes to convey an idea when just playing the right note can accomplish the same. There is an old adage that exists that less is more. Ashen Swan takes this aphorism and runs with it. This album is meditative magic.
So how does one write a review on nothingness? I could give you my thoughts on instrumentation and composition. The way in which Ashen Swan’s music sounds like the throaty whisper of a new dawn. I could tell you that Ashen Swan evinces qualities employed by the likes of Hammock and Lowercase Noises. EBow heavy phrases of lush sound framed by billowy and Spartan piano.. I could do all those things, but the music inspired me on a more esoteric level. L’appel du Vide begs you to reflect inward. It asks you to dust the cobwebs from the lesser traveled inroads of your soul, to stop, to consider.
L’appel du Vide translates roughly to “void’s call” or “the call of the void”. Most humans, in all their daily struggles, will often wonder what it would be like swerve into oncoming traffic. Or perhaps your hiking here in Colorado at Royal Arch Trail. You’re near the top and standing at the edge of the trail and get the sudden urge to just jump. This doesn’t necessarily mean you’re suicidal. It’s simply a phenomenon of the human psyche. A phenomenon the French called “l’appel du vide”. It is nothing more than morbid curiosity. I found myself experiencing this urge years ago so I did a quick Google search. It was comforting to know I was not alone. There were others out there that have felt the pull. Ashen Swan’s new album explores this concept in a musical sense. And pulls it off.
L’appel du Vide is a barren landscape. The short, quiet piano utterances are the green lichen hugging the rocks as they wait for a summer thunderstorm. Soft reverb the slow rolling thunder of an alpine tundra. A dreamy susurration whispers throughout each track like a lulling breeze that dances lightly through the purple forget-me-nots.
Ashen Swan’s newest venture is a contemplative and horrifically beautiful ride of ambient bliss. You get the overwhelming feeling of just wanting to let go. The music plunges straight for your heart and urges you to answer the void’s call. To feel the rain in your face and the wind as it thrashes through your hair. L’appel du Vide wants you to be free and as the album goes on it becomes increasingly difficult not give answer.
L’appel du Vide comes to us by way of Nathan Kwon who also composes for Chicago post-metal project Crawl Across the Sky. Ashen Swan came to us in the year 2017 with the desire to cross section the more ambient elements of the aforementioned Crawl Across the Sky and turn it all up to 11. And thank the void he did.
Floating In Space sets sail upon the solar winds with the new release Dreamland.
Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot is a significant picture. Taken by the Voyager 1 from a record distance of 3.7 billion miles, it shows Earth as nothing more than a tiny speck in an endless blanket of space. It puts things into perspective. Earth is such a microscopic part of the greater expanse. I understand man’s obsession with discovering what’s out there, but sometimes we miss the forest for the trees. There’s plenty of wonder and beauty right here on Earth. Perhaps we should cast our eyes more inward?
I often ponder the beauty that is the impossibility of me. Around 14 billion years ago there was nothing. Imagine that. Nothing. How do you even wrap your head around nothingness? We’re virtually incapable of truly understanding such a terrifying thought. Then, inexplicably, there was something. Depending upon your belief structure an event occurred and the Universe was birthed. At least in reductive terms. What exactly triggered this “big bang” has been the question hounding our existence since time memorial. In all honesty, I don’t even think this question is relevant. What’s relevant is that after the first second of this “bang” the size of the universe was expanding at such a rate that even the math can’t fully do it justice.
Fast forward 14 billion years and you have us. From all the chaos and violence this planet has seen from its planetesimal stage up until now you get, impossibly, you and I. This almost feels laughable. After the first second of creation had things been off or different by even the most minuscule amount, none of this would be. You’re a blessing…an absurd, inconceivable blessing.
Credit: Yera Espinosa
The earth heaved and groaned for millennia. At some point in time during all the anarchy of creation events began transpiring that would eventually lead to the birth of a single thread. This thread would whirl, loop and flutter through the winds of time and stop somewhere in Spain. The story of the songwriter and multi-instrumentalist behind Floating In Space, Ruben Caballero, began 14 billion years ago. He’s another infeasible creation of an event too far back for any of us to really, fully discern. The odds that you even share a space in time with him are astronomically beyond your scope of understanding. But space and time have a different story to tell. Here you are. And here is Floating In Space. You both share the same blink of an eye in time. Let us rejoice at the absurdity that bites at the edges of possibility.
On the 2016 debut “The Edge of the Light”, we were introduced to just a small portion of what Floating In Space was capable of. It was a superbly tranquil journey through Caballero’s experiences and feelings as he viewed his life as if they were but mere sequences in a larger movie. “The Edge of the Light” was to showcase the potential of the band. The sophomore effort, “Dreamland”, is the realization of that potential.
“Dreamland” is a 12 song effort released by proverbial indie powerhouse Deep Elm and co-produced by its owner/founder John Szuch. Floating In Space’s new release expands upon the piano driven cinematic motif. Every song is brilliantly structured and realized. There isn’t a track on the record you won’t find yourself humming along with after just a few listens. “Dreamland” is a purpose driven record. Every note has a purpose. Every angelically choir-like vocal cadence is well measured. I can’t help but feel that Floating In Space set out to create an album that deigns to set fire to every butterfly in our stomach.
What is it that you think we’re all searching for? Even when it appears we have everything in life we could ever possibly dream of having, still we search. We search to fill the voids. Voids as far reaching and depth-less as space. “Dreamland” is about letting go. Stop searching. You have everything you could ever hope to have in a million lifetimes right here in front of you. This is an album about recognizing the beauty you see before you instead of tearing at the remaining threads of your soul to find what it is you think you’re looking for.
Floating In Space is a gifted artist. A band not afraid of baring its soul. You can hear love and inspiration come through in every flourish of the guitar and syncopated beat of the drum. But the real beauty of “Dreamland” is that the band isn’t afraid of letting you in. Of sharing that grey area between dreaming and fearing. Between utter solitude and warm fellowship. We tend to drive distance between ourselves and our fellow man. Distances measured in time. “Dreamland” closes that gap and makes us believe that we’re going to be OK. Floating In Space dares you to dream again, but asks that you appreciate what it is that you already have.
Fans of labelmates Lights&Motion , U137 and Inward Oceans will feel right at home with “Dreamland”. It’s truly uplifting and enlightened songwriting. Floating In Space fits in so beautifully with the Deep Elm musical aesthetic. This is a relationship forged in the fires of the big bang. “Dreamland” is, from the opening notes to the last, filled with so many astoundingly gorgeous frames of optimistic grace that your heart is fit to burst.
If you find yourself adrift searching aimlessly for that next fix to fill whatever void it is in your life that haunts you, an album like “Dreamland” could aid in reminding you what it is that makes all of this so damn worth it. Mathematically speaking you shouldn’t even exist.
I’ve long admired Ranges, the concept post-rock quartet hailing from Bozeman, Montana. I enjoy the thought-provoking concepts that they use to inspire each of their releases (read my reviews of “Night and Day” and The Gods Of The Copybook Headingsfor some examples). The packaging behind each release is also brilliant [one of the perks of owning a printing press as a side business]. Their last output was a cassette tape that included a cryptic puzzle in the packaging, which revealed the information regarding this latest release – should the listener possess the time and energy to crack it.
Alas, I did not spend the time cracking said puzzle, as it arrived in the post just prior to my leaving home to travel around the United States. However, another writer more intelligent and articulate than I (Aaron Edwards from Arctic Drones) solved it and shared what he found: the track listing and title to the latest Ranges release, The Ascensionist.
In recent years, members of the band have been busy growing the ever-expanding screen printing/merch/distro/record label/business that is A Thousand Arms. They’ve also released the aforementioned tape, Prelude, and their first vinyl 7″ record, And The People Cried Out For A King. On top of this, A Thousand Arms has compiled and released a number of free post-rock compilations (including Open Language and Hemispheres). Despite all this work filling their schedule, Ranges still managed to find the time to record a new record in time for the inaugural dunk!USA festival in Burlington, Vermont.
This is music for adventures. Grandiose, epic soundtracks for brave feats. The album title – The Acensionist – and the band name – Ranges – both allude to the mountainous region of Montana where the band lives – references to the environment that inspires the respective members of the band.
Suitably enough, the first time I listened to the album was during an adventure. I had just rented a car in Phoenix, Arizona, and was making my way north to Montana to meet up with the band. New Zealanders drive on the left hand side of the road, but I thought I’d got the hang of American driving when living in Maine a few months earlier. Turns out driving in the low built-up wilderness of Maine doesn’t equate to the hectic five lane roads of Arizona’s biggest city. I freaked out.
I swear the album played at least four times on repeat as I drove from Phoenix to Sedona. I was too terrified to take my eyes off the road to change music, and there aren’t many suitable spots to pull over on the freeway. So The Ascensionist soundtracked my adventure, accompanying my journey through the vast deserts and arid cacti-flecked landscapes.
I revisited The Ascensionist now and again during my week-long drive north. Passing immense gorges in Colorado, finding fossils and cave paintings in Utah, cruising along smoky mountaintops in Wyoming, and winding through geothermal hotspots in Yellowstone National Park. Epic music for epic times.
I held off reviewing the record though. I try to give music a thorough listening to when I review it, which can “kill” the appeal of the music if I overdo it. I listened to it during that trip, sure, but didn’t pick it apart and analyse it.
On tour, I heard the same set night after night for two weeks. I’m not sick of those songs, but I’m glad I didn’t listen to them too much before the tour either. It was nice going in fresh and picking up the nuances in a live context.
This review may as well be redundant. The album has been out for a few months now, so anyone who was inclined to listen to it would have already formed their own opinion by now. And Ranges don’t need my review for promo purposes – they sold out of records within a week – both US and EU editions. In fact, their second pressings came on sale on Black Friday. But I still admire the work, and I regard the members of Ranges as close friends, so I feel I owe them my thoughts on paper.
When it comes to Ranges, the music is only a component of the overall package. Concept and delivery are also paramount.
Most Ranges albums are concept albums – revolving around a theme that inspired the music. This time around, in a weird meta move, their concept is about themselves. Slightly pretentious, but at the same time neat to see the depth that they delve into with their art. Each track references a previous release. So if you look at track nine, and some of their merch, you may get insight into their next album theme…
And of course, the packaging is something else. Guitarist CJ Blessum and Ranges art director Wilson Raska co-own A Thousand Arms, a merchandising company. So their t-shirts, album covers etc… are all a step above.
The deluxe edition of the record came in 2LP 180g gatefold vinyl – different variants for the US and EU markets. The band made recycled paper with which to create custom booklets containing liner notes. They screen printed album covers and slipmats.
They also collaborated with local brewing companies to come up with special release Ranges coffee and beer. And bass player Jared Gabriel handmade clay mugs to go with the coffee.
I’ve written so much already without even touching on the music.
Blustery winds greet us on the opening track, setting the scene. I can picture a lone adventure scaling a peak, buffeted by the winds, slowly trudging through the snow. Soft guitar and mellow bass set the mood, before a swift transition into “Seven Sisters” provides us with harder hitting content that demonstrates how to make an opening statement.
When Ranges play this live, they combine the first two tracks and use a spoken word sample of Howard Simon’s poem I Choose The Mountain. I can’t hear the song without the sample, which is a shame. I think that the delivery sets the mood so well, and adds so much. By the same logic, I feel that excluding the sample from the recording detracts from the potential impact. Not that you’d know if you had only heard the album version… The embedded video above gives you an idea of how it sounds live [and I feature briefly at the 10 second mark].
This is not an upbeat record. But I still feel good when I listen to it. Take the title track, for example. “The Ascensionist” sound sombre and slow. It meanders along, slowly gaining layers and complexity. But when the guitar lead kicks in a few minutes into it, and the drums get busy, and the energy jacks up… well, it’s just grand. Sad, perhaps, but with an underlying glimmer of hope. Liken it to the emotions of conquering a mountain – grueling and hard, but thoroughly rewarding.
“Called Not to a New Religion, but to Life” took me by surprise. Programmed drums! Mark the drummer uses a Roland trigger pad to set off the electronic patterns, before adding his own acoustic beats after a few bars. CJ (guitar) is an absolute wizard, and programmed a lighting rig to sequence in time with a click track, so I wonder if the new electronica element arose from his experimenting with stage lighting? I can see it paving the way for more “glitchy” material in the future, like sleepmakeswaves or 65daysofstatic.
One of the standout tracks for me is “Babylon The Great (Part I)”. I remember they played it in Wichita, which completely took me by surprise. It was at a tiny wee bar named Kirby’s that Jared (bass) used to work at when he was at college. For some reason the guys decided to change the set that night, and played this song. It was the first time I’d heard it live. “Guys!” I said, “that track with the thrash beat… why have you been holding out on me all tour? That song kills! You need more of that higher energy stuff!” There’s something primal about the drumming on this song, with Mark just dominating.
But “Seven Veils” is the album highlight. The busy guitar line that opens is far more interesting than moody swells, and Mark’s beat features small flourishes on the hi-hats that add that extra oomph. But Joey’s guitar melody is the high point of the album – the hook that worms its way into your ear and has you subconsciously humming days later.
Listening to this album unearths fond memories. Memories of laughing along with the guys in the van, of late nights packing down equipment, of sharing pizza and budweisers, of driving through a beautiful mist-shrouded autumnal New York state, of making lifelong friends. To me, The Ascensionist sounds like adventures and friendship. And I think that is exactly what the band was trying for.
The Ascensionist is Ranges’ best album to date. It builds upon, and improves each of their prior works. I cannot remove my personal attachment to the music, but in a way that is an affirmation of quality. Great music evokes emotion.
I’m super excited for the next album. Ranges have done well thus far, but I see them on the cusp of a change. CJ has done well to carry the band this far, and has laid a great template. Now time for Joey to add more of melodies lines, and Mark to let his hardcore roots shine through on drums.
I was given very little information about Perth post-rock outfit Ryan Beno. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if it was the name of a person or a band. But, I guess that is in line with their EP title: Don’t Say Too Much.
Indeed. Why give a self-congratulatory biography when you can let the music say all that needs to be said?
I’ll tell you straight off the bat: it’s a great EP. It’s like good vodka – smooth, chilled and crisp. None of the tired post-rock clichés that leaves me searching for new ways to describe the same things, just solid music.
Don’t Say Too Much feels smart. There is an air of sophistication to it, even if I can’t articulate exactly why. Maybe it’s the slight jazzy feel to some of the tracks? Although I’m no jazz lover, and wouldn’t call this record pretentious.
The drums feel rather samey throughout the EP, but 18 minute running time is short enough that you don’t tire of the same beat. This guy has a set style: steady, busy and syncopated. His light touch and smooth groove does everything he needs.
It’s a cohesive EP, stamped with a distinct mark. But at the same time, there is some pleasant diversity throughout. My personal favourite is the track “PS6”, with 8 bit tones reminiscent of playing Zelda on Nintendo. It’s just brilliant – too short, if anything.
Then we have “Ulterior Motives”, with smooth bass lines and that jazzy syncopated beat. “Black Dragon” feels darker, and less in line with the upbeat vibe of the rest of the tracks. Are they playing minor chords? (I couldn’t say) It’s just a shame to end a stellar EP on a more sombre note.
This is a worthwhile EP. A marked improvement from the band’s 2017 début, Full Moon Thai, with great feel and clarity. Sure, it’s repetitive and sparse, but it’s done so damn well that I could happy listen to more of the same.
Oh, and Ryan Beno, call me when you’ve finished the new Zelda soundtrack. I’m dying for more!
When it comes to Ranges, the music is only a component of the overall package. Concept and delivery are also paramount.
