Album: Hymns for a Dead Sun
Artist: Obsidian Ritual
Label: Self-released
Catalogue no: N/A
Tracklist:
1. Amongst
the Astral Tombs
2. Ominous
Signs
3. Voidsphere
4. Hyperborean
Realms
5. Encroaching
Draness, Encircling Wolves
Personally, I think it’s
always good policy to write about not just the ‘big’ names in any scene, but
also those who create in relative obscurity (just how relative is obscurity these days anyway, now that
we have the internet?). Obsidian Ritual, whose Hymns for a Dead Sun is the subject of this review, hails from
somewhere in California, and as far as I am aware this is his first full
release. And, if you like your dark ambient with a touch of the cinematic about
it, then I think you’ll like this.
‘Amongst the Astral
Tombs’ sets the tone, with a deep bass rumble presaging mournful viola-like
slow-bowed notes, evoking both a funereal claustrophobia and simultaneously a
vast open space. Imagine yourself as an astronaut of the far future, coming
upon a gargantuan necropolis out in the immensity of deep space, cyclopean
edifices poised somewhere in one of an alien system’s Lagrange points, mammoth
carved asteroid tombs adorned with indecipherable inscriptions. Are these the
tombs of gods, or aliens? The stars look down coldly, bestowing little light
and no warmth upon these structures – a sign, perhaps, that these graves are
there for a reason, and that they are not looked upon with favour.
The freezing and deeply
isolated ambience continues with ‘Ominous Signs’, a keening hymnal of cold
wastes and methane-ice-covered lumps of rock circling a dead sun, the burnt-out
hulk of which they still sullenly orbit. These vast ice-fields, wrapped in
complete and utter dread silence, are home to nothing and no one, seemingly
stretching out to an incalculable infinity – an emptiness that defies reason
and dares anything or anyone to intrude upon its ages-long remoteness.
‘Voidsphere’ is the space between stars and galaxies, the incomprehensible
distances beyond the understanding of tiny minds. A deep, boundless rumble announces
its presence, an abyssal echo, an unleavened carpet of drone that’s spiked
occasionally by a stray squeak here and there. This is colder than absolute
zero, beyond which is a metaphysical quantum realm that rewrites the rules and
dispenses with observed reality.
The hyperborean realms,
here on Earth at least, were lands which were considered to be beyond the
north, cold places that were completely outside the experiences of the peoples
of ancient civilisation. In today’s global world, those realms have now moved
into the darkness of space, the frigid wastes of airlessness and boundlessness.
Temperatures here redefine the meaning of cold and frigidity, where nothing can
survive. Grainy notes and faint bowed string-like notes reach our ears from
unfathomable depths, accompanied by a seismic bass drone that speaks of
inconceivable distances and the unimaginable vacuum of the universe. This space
contains all that is and has ever been, and yet still has room for more, a fact
illustrated by a tolling, echoing bell.
On the final track,
‘Encroaching Darkness, Encircling Wolves’, we’ve returned to the relative
safety of Earth – relative because we’re ensconced in the northern wastes of
this world, a place that harbours its own dangers. Earthy organ-style drones
pulsate, ebbing in and out of time, until orchestral strings intervene and
intertwine, a keening lament as mournful as the solitary wolf howling into the
night. Lesser creatures run for cover but this is the wolf’s kingdom, his
natural habitat, his rightful domain. His breath mists into the freezing air, a
tangible sign of him giving voice to his declaration of his right to be here –
his kind have lived here for untold millennia, and they have claim to this
land. The moon looks down, satisfied with the wolf’s song, perhaps in part
because they are close companions in darkness.
As some of you may have
gathered by now, I have a penchant for the coldest of freezing ambiences,
preferring them because they sing to my soul. This suite of tracks has been
added to the library of virtual ambiences locked deeply inside the most
inaccessible recesses of my brain, to be reinvigorated whenever I feel a
longing for somewhere that’s isolated and remote. For those who like their
ambient glacial and slow moving.
Give Obsidian Ritual some
support by purchasing his download from here – it’ll only cost you a measly
dollar:
Psymon Marshall 2019.
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