Album: Dawn of the Damned
Artist: Gabriel Pereira Spurr & Yoshiwaku
Label: Head Handmade Tapes
Catalogue no: HHT4
Tracklist:
1. Fire
Mass
2. Dance
of the Damned
3. Gaping
Face
4. Unblock
Stream
5. Tame
the Rhythm
6. Forgotten
Prophecy
In spite of the album
title, it has nothing to with zombies, fictional horror, or George Romero:
instead this six-tracker was inspired by an Algerian anti-colonialist
documentary called L’Aubes des Damnés,
produced in 1966 and directed by Ahmed Rachedi. Should you wish to view the
film as an adjunct to the album it’s available on Youtube (https://youtu.be/K-HeN3PP5kI) – bear in
mind it’s in French with French subtitles, however you can set it to
auto-translate into English through the settings icon. If you’re interested,
here’s some further information on the Algerian War of Independence and its
causes - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algerian_War.
The question here of
course is how does all this translate into the music contained on here? As far
as ‘Fire Mass’ is concerned we get a grinding, whining mass of industrial noise
accompanied by samples (in French, of course) interjecting over it all, which I
am assuming have been taken directly from the documentary. If nothing else it
tells of unrest and dissatisfaction, of a building wall of opposition against
French rule and exploitation. I know that after WW2 the Muslim population of
Algeria started making their demands for independence clear, a situation which
eventually led to the War of independence.
‘Dance of the Damned’
takes the theme further, complete with grainy noise, dentist’s drill squeals,
and a languid bass/guitar fuzzed beat, over which mildly distorted vocals intone.
Despite its noise leanings, it’s still more than reminiscent of North African
music, especially with its muezzin calling the faithful to prayer stylings and
the use of what sounds like native instrumentation, bringing to mind thoughts
of lost cultures and ways of life that were ruined by the introduction of
European ‘civilisation’. I use that word civilisation advisedly and in single
quotes: at times, it was often difficult to tell who the barbarian was and who the
civilised. ‘Gaping Face’ graces us with more vocals, this time soaring
heavenwards, along with samples of a woman’s voice while the backing music
leans more towards the noise ambient end of the genre spectrum. It shimmers and
rings clearly, mesmerising and hypnotic, swaying and sashaying with the
slithery sinuousness of a snake across hot sand. More industrial electronics
and samples coalesce to create the next track ‘Unblock Stream’, accompanied by
distorted and fuzzed up electronic drones and expansive synthesiser tones, which,
akin to living things, twist and squirm around and against each other, biting
and suffocating, a mass of snakes wrapping each other in death grips, one
intent on killing the other. It’s descriptive of a country fighting against
itself or, more accurately, a country rebelling against its masters.
More industrial
shimmeriness, noisy ambience, samples, and power tool sounds join together to
produce the penultimate entry on the menu, ‘Tame the Rhythm’. The rhythm being
talked about here, I would venture, is the rhythm tending to all-out war, the
restive beat of a drum of rebellion against the forces of colonial oppression. This
is the pushback by the authorities. By turns, it’s chaotic, rambling,
unstructured, and monolithic, perhaps that point between the end of one state
of stasis and the dawning of another state of stasis. At others, even amongst
all the randomicity and chaos a sense of equilibrium can be discerned; for
instance, at one point a stringed instrument of some species filters through,
suggesting that, at least in some parts, a semblance of normality still
pertains. That even in the midst of turmoil and upheaval, there will be some
who will maintain the life they’ve always lived even while the rest of country
gets swallowed up by a bloody war.
‘Forgotten Prophecy’
serves up distorted noise ambient, very much in the style of ‘traditional’
Algerian music, along with some reverberating ambient acoustic guitar
counterpoints, perhaps an indication that the storm has passed over and the
light of peace is at last beginning to shine on the horizon. The darkness of
unjust oppression and suppression is starting to be dispelled, and a brand new
beginning is about to be embarked upon. However, there’s still a long way to
go, as people loyal to the losing side are still attempting to disrupt the inevitable,
trying to hold back the tide of history for as long as possible. The old order
is on the point of complete collapse, staggering and stuttering its way until
it can either somehow regain a footing or find a way out before taking any
further damage. However it plays out, the Algerians will get what they want,
and take back their country.
An interesting project by
all accounts, taking an abstruse historical event that most of us are still
completely ignorant about, but only one part of a greater movement that swept
through other colonies in the quest to gain their own independence in the wake
of WW2. India gained their independence from Britain in 1948, for instance, and
the subsequent throwing off the shackles of colonial rule in Africa throughout
the following decades, individual country by individual country. Although this
release chooses to focus on Algeria, the same narrative can be applied to many
other countries seeking self-determination. It’s a curious mixture of noisiness
and ambience, perhaps a way of showing the delicate balances of power existing
within any country, be it the colonised or the coloniser. However, in our world
of (relative) stability, it’s difficult to imagine what a war of independence
is like. Gabriel Pereira Spurr & Yoshiwaku’s sound essay will, perhaps,
help to rectify that.
Issued in a very limited
edition of 18 cassettes, of which only 9 are currently available, as well as a
download – order here:
Psymon Marshall 2019.
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