Album: Exorcizando Eiciunt Daemonia
Artist: Static of Masses
Label: Doomsday’s Today Records/Negative Demonic
Frequency
Catalogue no: Not known
Tracklist:
1. Presence
2. Oblivion
3. Resurrection
4. Cried
in Heaven’s Arms
5. June
3rd, 1928
6. Cathedral
of Noise
7. NoWhen
8. Irritus
9. Children
of Tulu
10. Penance
This dark noise ambient
project hails from Odessa in Texas, and although this isn’t the first time I’ve
encountered them (they contributed a track to the debut Occult Realm compilation released by Big Cypress Swamp netlabel, a
project I’m involved in) this is the
first I have heard them in the round, so to speak. And what we have here are
ten short- to mid-length tracks of lushly dark rumbling, droning textures,
imbued with deliciously sinister atmospheres without straying into histrionics
or cliché, all of which go to satisfy those deeply primal centres in the human
lizard brain.
‘Presence’ opens the
account with a blaring astringent alarm, before settling into a bass drone held
up by a pulsing and oscillating granular rhythm which further evolves into a
cold, wintry, and windswept Hadean landscape. This is the signature of an
unwelcome presence indeed, a usurper squeezing itself into a frail human
container, abrogating to itself the functions and appearance of utter banality
and normality. ‘Oblivion’ follows on, a tribalistic, drum-driven hellscape
replete with voices and anguished whisperings of pain and desolation, set in a
subterranean realm lit only bit fire and molten lava. Here is the kingdom of
emptiness and hollow shells, a place where humanoid bodies devoid of sense and
soul shuffle dejectedly, neither sensate of nor caring about where they are.
There’s no warmth here, in spite of the fires and streams of lava – instead the
winds speak of unutterable cold and loneliness.
‘Resurrection’, for all the
associations the word possesses, offers little in the way of comfort – this
isn’t the revival of the soul, but the reappearance of dread oppression, fear
incarnate, and the further denudation and degradation of soul and innocence.
Black streams of ichor and poisonous exhalations blow through the entire piece,
putrefying and rotting everything they come into contact with. Strident
crashings serve as a harbinger of utter collapse, of a catastrophic devolvement
into barbarism and brutality. Make no mistake, light has no sway here, and
perhaps has been forever barred from any egress into this realm. ‘Cried in
Heaven’s Arms’ promises to at least show a sliver of hope, but it was a faint
hope at best. A grainy, slippery drone accompanied by a distant percussive
element and the distressed sobs of a woman serve as an introduction to the tone
of this piece, before a distorted voice and a figure picked out on a piano take
over, wiping out any lightness and clarity before they’ve even had a chance to
coalesce. The next track, ‘June 3rd, 1928’, blasts us with hollow
winds presaging a deep and heavy darkness, and the only reference I could find
to this date was that a lunar eclipse occurred on this day – an event that
somehow fits perfectly with the atmosphere presented here. This, like many of
the tracks on this album, features a deeply demonic voice, an element which
only adds to the ritualistic atmosphere that threads its way through the piece.
‘Cathedral of Noise’ speaks of a vast edifice, perhaps open to the skies, where
hot searing winds blow through tall columns and whip the burning braziers into
a frenzy of flame and angry heat. Explosive detonations sound off occasionally,
gushing forth gouts of flame and malignancy. A frantic female voice vainly asks
for help, but her screams only give strength to the black intentions of those
who worship at its altar. Steadily, the noise becomes grainier and more
powerful, more abrasive, stripping soft flesh and ripping the soul. It’s an
uncomfortable listening experience, unsettling and deeply disturbing, and is
one of the best tracks on here so far.
We’re back to deep bass
drone rumbles on ‘NoWhen’, a swirling miasma of mists and guttural vocals, a
place that has no location in either space or time, perhaps existing in all
places and times equally. Perhaps it’s representative of the human zeitgeist,
the presiding spirit of the true nature of humanity – the dark, the
destructive, the violent. Thus has it always been and thus will it always
remain. ‘Irritus’ arrives via a platform of didgeridoo-like oscillations, upon
which a recorded voice enunciates and proclaims – this sounds as if it comes
from a distant era but is only now reaching us, the last broadcast sent amidst
the apocalypse from some long-forgotten civilisation as both a testament and as
a warning. Distorted piano notes only underline that distance, again speaking
of a gulf between then and now in both space and time.
The penultimate track,
‘Children of Tulu’, has arrived before we even know it, announcing itself via a
powerful soaring drone. Industrial machine noise supersedes, wrapping itself
around the utterances of a distorted voice, burying the words in an obscuring
veil of swirling feedback and plangent bells. Outlined here is a portrait of a
mysterious locale, simultaneously sacred and yet deeply profane, seemingly
dedicated to the basest of human (and inhuman) motivations. Bloodlust, carnal
desire, greed, gluttony, and destruction are given voice here, spilling out in
a black fog that almost feels sentient. ‘Penance’, the closing track, is the
‘lightest’ of all the tracks presented, relying heavily on tribal percussion
and entirely reminiscent of 1990’s industrial akin to Skinny Puppy in their
prime. Not a bad thing by any means, but a distinct change of direction given
the preceding. A tinge of nostalgia for me, as it took me right back to those
heady days and perhaps a good way of resurfacing into the light of the real
world given the darkness abounding across the rest of the album.
I have to say that this
entire album sucked me right in – the whole set was over before I knew it, a
good sign that I bought into its vision. The textures and atmospheres have been
pitched perfectly, plunging the listener into a deeply disturbing and unhealthy
world of demonic presences, the type of entities only too willing to subvert
innocence and human frailties to further their own malign ends. The light of
hope and sanctity fears to tread in these regions, a fact absolutely nailed
squarely on all ten of the tracks here – an attribute and talent that speaks
volumes about the creative power of Static of Masses. Further releases are definitely
eagerly awaited.
Available as a CD,
limited cassette and download from the following links:
Psymon Marshall 2020.
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