Album: Elegy for a Lost Cosmonaut EP
Artist: Sumatran Black
Label: Sumatran Black Records
Catalogue no: N/A
Tracklist:
1. The
Mission
2. Is
this Heaven? (это рай)
3. Elegy
for a Lost Cosmonaut.
This three-track EP is
based around what could possibly be an astronaut’s/cosmonaut’s worst nightmare:
being stranded in space, unable to reach the safety of one’s spacecraft, and
unable to return home while still able to see that home hanging gloriously,
tantalisingly, right in front of you. Think about it – if you’re lost here,
you’ll be condemned to float along with the satellites forever, just another
inert piece of space junk. Of course, for us mere mortals the wonder is that in
spite of such dangers spacefarers are still more than willing to venture beyond
the atmosphere in pursuit of knowledge and adventure.
Sumatran Black is a
Turkish project based in Istanbul, the famed cosmopolitan and storied city centred
on the stunning Hagia Sofia, the point where Europe ends and Asia begins, and
the shining city which occupied the secular and religious imaginations of the
West and East alike for centuries. Constantinople, as Istanbul once was known,
was itself a prize, coveted by both Europeans and Asians, in spite of the
dangers inherent in attempting to conquer it. And here, this time it’s the
airless vacuum of space that’s the new prize and frontier, attended by its own
dangers. And, just as imagination was central to the idea of Byzantium, so is
imagination central to Elegy for a Lost
Cosmonaut.
Cosmonaut is an apt
choice of word here: there have been many allegations that the very secretive USSR
(as it was then) deliberately hid the fact that quite a few cosmonauts were
lost and had died in space. This EP plays on that theme, the story of an
unfortunate Soviet pioneer spaceman, somehow unable to get back to his capsule
and is now drifting away into the deeps. To that end we begin with deep
rumbling drones informing us about ‘The Mission’, an extended 10-minute essay
in darkly unsettling sonics, aptly describing the sheer vastness in which the
cosmonaut finds himself and the oppressive isolation consequent to it. He’s
slowly moving away from earth and safety, the capsule becoming smaller and
smaller the further he gets away from it. He has no means of communications,
plus his oxygen supply is slowly becoming depleted, and it won’t be long before
he loses consciousness, to be followed by death. Rescue is impossible – help is
too far away.
Just before death,
however, a form of hypoxia sets in as the brain begins to be starved of oxygen,
causing the brain to misfire and create hallucinations. ‘Is this Heaven? (это
рай)’ (It is Paradise) offers us visions of brightness and ineffable light, a
warm transition between this life and the next. Perhaps this is what the doomed
cosmonaut sees as consciousness slips away – a glimpse of a state of bliss and
a place where he no longer has to worry, somewhere where all his concerns melt
away while his spirit enters some kind of universal otherwhere.
Of course, there comes a
point where those on the ground must realise that their man is lost, dead and
drifting alone, far away from his home world, heading off to who knows where.
He left without saying goodbye to friends and loved ones, his last glimpse of
Earth a slowly receding beautiful blue/green globe. The ultimate insult though
is that, rather than honour his undoubted bravery, his name would forever be
expunged from the record, his failure probably seen as an embarrassment to
Soviet pride. This nameless man was a human, a man with his own worries and
pursuits, his own loves and desires, who was sent on a quest that was larger
and more significant than humanity itself, but ultimately (as some would say)
he was still nothing more than a political pawn, a chess piece in a huge game
the workings of which he probably had no understanding of. The sad fact is that
he lost, and by extension Russia also lost.
‘Elegy for a Lost
Cosmonaut’ the track is a beautiful testimony to the unknown pioneer, every bit
as worthy of remembrance as the unknown soldier honoured at the Menin Gate in
Ypres, alongside all those other cosmonauts reputedly lost in similar fashion.
We may never know if the stories and rumours are indeed true: if so, unless the
Russian authorities decide to confirm the authenticity (or otherwise) of the
deaths, then we will also never know the names of those who laid down their
lives. Sweeping chords, whistles, and drones speak of the vast spectacle of the
universe, a colourful and spectacular backdrop as a strange object (the inert
body of a man long frozen dressed in a spacesuit) moves silently through the
spaces between planets. The body’s been doing this for a long time, and will
never be recovered. Yes, it’s a romanticised vision, but still one must
acknowledge his part, albeit suppressed, in furthering knowledge of the worlds
beyond our own.
A haunting suite of
compositions which will, at the very least, leave you wondering whether this is
all true or just conspiracy nonsense: the point is, though, whether true or
otherwise, here is something that’s bigger than it sounds, using a honed
imagination to fill infinite spaces, and to tell a story that is at once
unbelievable and harrowing. It’s chillingly cold and infinitely lonely, a story
that will have no happy ending: it also makes you wonder about how some humans
see others, as expendables in pursuit of something superficially grand but in
reality quite sordid. This will keep me thinking for some time yet.
Streaming and download
available from Bandcamp:
Psymon Marshall 2019.
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