Lavatone - The Blue Boar.

Album: The Blue Boar

Artist: Lavatone

Label: Kalamine Records

Catalogue no: N/A

Tracklist:

     1.      Monolith

     2.      The Blue Boar

     3.      Empty Room

     4.      Shelter in Place

I’ve only heard Lavatone once before and that was only a single track on Kalamine Records’ Inside/Beside 3 compilation which came out some months ago. And now along comes a four-track album from this Texan one-man drone outfit, allowing me to get a deeper feel for his music and his sensibilities. And, of course, allowing me to see whether this so far extremely interesting and quality French netlabel has yet again released a winner.

‘Monolith’, at eight minutes or so the shortest of the tracks on here, pretty much hits the ground running with a rasping and grinding bass tone which provides a vehicle for hornlike drones, a fanfare blaring from the verandas of some vast edifice, huge braziers ablaze at either end sending columns of scented smoke skyward. Imagine a kind of ziggurat towering into the heavens, flanked by endless sets of steps all leading to a temple structure at its top. The mass of stone is enough to intimidate by itself, let alone the sheer size of the building. A slow steady pounding beat measures out the pulse of proceedings, a sonorous affair, a ritual of sacrifice and perhaps appeasement. A lowering grey cloudscape only adds to the feeling of oppressive intimidation, a weight that bows the shoulders of all who stand or kneel at its feet.

The album’s title track cues up next, howling winds and ringing reverberant tones winging their way in from somewhere far off, a mass of denseness floating in the sky to block the sun and its warming rays. It feels like a glowering presence up there, a sentient ‘thing’ observing all that happens below, a god-like entity judging everyone and everything. Snarling feedback and guttural growls radiate its inherent malignity, a solid slab of hatred and malice given actual form. Its baleful influence and searching stare are physical qualities, designed to be threatening and to serve as a warning: do not step out of line or act against what we think is right.

‘Empty Room’ delineates a truly cavernous space, beginning with an atonal screech of strings that’s immediately followed by a deeply growling hurricane of drone and howls, as if the very bowels of the earth are letting rip, screaming out its antipathy and animus against those who have claimed the surface as their kingdom by rights. These battering groans swirl and coil, reaching out to fill every available inch of space in the subterrestrial caverns, only to be amplified by the echoing stone itself and accumulate into a bestial bellowing of enormous proportions. Accompanying the grumbles and roars are smaller creatures, snarling and grunting in empathy. The slow heartbeat and pulsing of the earth itself is the metronome to this blasting symphony, a cacophonic and searing jet of antagonistic complaint.

Finally, ‘Shelter in Place’ marks the end of the album, and its ambience is much calmer and less calamitous – indeed, I would even go so far as to say that, at least initially, it’s a quietly soporific wash of soothing waves, a hymnal floating serenely somewhere in the mid-atmosphere. Gradually, though, antipathetic elements encroach upon its blissful shores, introducing some grainier and insalubrious notes, generating a sense of thrilling alarm. But soon enough it seems that equilibrium is restored, and whatever black clouds started to appear on the horizon have dissolved and disappeared, and we are once again treated to exquisite harmonics, slightly distorted but that only makes them all the sweeter for that.

I find myself having to say that yet again Kalamine have released another high quality album, one that should satisfy any ardent drone fan out there. The Blue Boar is one of those recordings that make it all look so easy, but also making us aware on a careful listen that that definitely isn’t the case: it sounds complicated because it’s carefully layered, using the simplest of ingredients and elements. It comes down to how this brew is put together that makes it as good as it is – there are no unnecessary additions or adornments, just the absolute minimum needed to create the moods and ambiences. It always makes me think just how intimate musicians must need to be with the nature of sound and its properties in order to produce such finely attuned sonic tapestries. Lavatone has definitely mastered the intricacies of sound judging by this, as a consequence crafting a grandiose weft and warp of subterranean and elevated ambient aesthetics simultaneously. Excellent stuff!

Available as a download from the Kalamine Records Bandcamp page:

https://kalaminerecords.bandcamp.com/album/the-blue-boar

Psymon Marshall 2019. 

Eisenlager - Schattenwölfe und Kraken

Album: Schattenwölfe und Kraken

Artist: Eisenlager

Label: Kalamine Records

Catalogue no: N/A

Tracklist:

     1.      Shae am Grünen Arm

     2.      Königsmund

     3.      Mätresse

     4.      Schwarzwasser

     5.      Turm der Hand

     6.      Im Roten Bergfried

     7.      Ich bin Euer, und ihr seid mein

     8.      Defensivtaktik

     9.      Tyrions Wutausbruch

    10.  Mein Löwe

If there’s anything I’ve learned with regards to Kalamine Records it’s to expect the unexpected, and this new one from Eisenlager was something I definitely wasn’t expecting. This drags us along into the territory marked on the map as experimental electro-acoustic, with side trips to ambient and noise, utilising all manner of artefacts and artifices to create truly weird and wonderful audio landscapes on worlds which are bizarre mirrors and inversions of the one we inhabit. It’s as if Eisenlager are inviting us to reflect upon our own environments, and then to contemplate how, with a slight twist of reality, things could potentially be so very different.

Take ‘Shae am Grünen Arm’ (Shae on the Green Arm), as a prime example, which just so happens to be the opening track. It begins with a distorted tinkling piano piece, presumably taken from an old vinyl record, before noisy rumblings come along and subsume it, interrupting the flow and completely inverting the mood. Gradually a mechanical rhythm takes over, reminding one of old-school industrial from the mid-nineties era, jerking and stuttering like some automated factory machine that’s been running for who knows how long and is on the verge of running out of power. It’s the sound of ordered decay, the steady dissolution of energy and movement, the powering down of obsolete technology perhaps. In complete contrast ‘Köningsmund’ (King[’s] Mouth) comes to us from the opposite end of the spectrum, even though it begins with a mishmash of samples and sounds until it broadens out into an ambient skyscape of blue horizons and rolling green hills. It shimmers and shines by its own neon-bright light, swirling and swooping endlessly, settling to earth and almost immediately taking flight again. As it progresses, however, there are signs of encroaching gloom appearing, as if saying that nothing is ever permanent or remains static, and that motion is perpetual.

 

‘Mätresse’ (‘Mistress’) is a curious concatenation of twinkling music box tinkles and stuttering electro beats, accompanied by miraculously hanging chords as if of some distant choir. This too is an open landscape, perhaps of a harmonious admixture of the old and the new, of technology and the organic and natural, where each element complements the other. ‘Schwartzwasser’ (Blackwater) is next, a sharp, nervous bag of urgent energy, all finely-honed edges and blade-like steeliness. Chaos, madness, and anarchy lie behind this, but something is just managing to contain it: even so it’s just waiting for some trigger to detonate it in one huge orgasmic explosion. ‘Turm der Hand’ (Tower of the Hand) is disorganised and atonal, at least initially, until it settles into a series of mesmerising echoes and reverberations, like drips of sparkling water. Again, this is a clean and clear landscape, a pristine untouched environment whose beauty is frozen both physically and metaphysically.

‘Im Roten Bergfried’ (In the Red Keep) suggests something grandiose, implacable, made of impregnable stone, and forever unassailable. From its trumpet and flute opening we get the feeling we’re approaching some old Schloss somewhere in the medieval heart of Germany, until almighty distorted guitar chords, entirely suggestive of heavy mass, weight (both physical weight and the weight of time), and solidity, rear up walls of impenetrability and permanency before our very eyes, taunting and daring us to tear them down.  ‘Ich bin Euer, und ihr seid mein’ (I am Yours, and You are Mine’) hoves into view next, shimmering dulcimer tones cascading over each other, like the expectant, trilling shivers one feels when in the presence of one’s soulmate. It even ends on a smooth, jazzy note.

‘Defensivtaktik’ (Defensive Tactics) wafts in on soaring and ringing notes, floating skywards and into the blue, almost in a shoegazy and languid style. It is breathtakingly beautiful up here in the clouds, and also breathtakingly cold. This is one way to avoid the teeming masses below, a way of asserting one’s personal freedoms and turning away from the collective madness that is ‘society’. ‘Tyrions Wutausbruch’ (Tyrion’s Outburst) is a stomping electronic pounding accompanied by urgent high notes falling over each other, a mass of pent-up energy and barely-contained frustration. I wonder if this is a reference to Game of Thrones by the way, as Tyrion Lannister is a main character in that drama…

And now to the longest track (and final) track on this album, ‘Mein Löwe’ (My Lion) which opens with a sweet ethereal Eno-esque ambience, which eventually gets backed up by a trippy, loping beat that sails along serenely on invisible airborne currents, lifting us up bodily from the sordid details of earthbound existence and into the rarefied heavenly realms. Stars twinkle at our onward progress, lighting our way, and guiding us ever forward. This is absolutely my favourite on this release, a high point in what is already an album of incredible quality, and is a sweet note to round off the set with. I certainly feel blissed out on the waves of soulfulness emanating from this magical construct.

Schattenwölfe und Kraken (Shadowwolves and Octopuses) is an album of contrasts, containing a broad spectrum of expressions and emotions, every one of which demands complete immersion and interaction from the listener. This a complete tapestry, delineating a wide range of human experiences and feelings, created by a master musician with an eye for fine detail and nuance, a sculptor of sound-material every bit as familiar with his medium as a carver is with wood or stone. When I say this is a stunning album, I mean it. When Eisenlager expounds his thesis of nothing is ever static, he carries it over into every composition – none of these tracks speaks of stasis or even of formula, just a direct conversation with the materials at his disposal. More than that however, is the fact that having the material is one thing, but being able to fully realise the potential of those materials is another. Eisenlager is a deft manipulator, knowing exactly how to extract the essence of each to best effect. Utterly bewitching and full of marvels.

Available as a digital download from the Kalamine Records Bandcamp page:

https://kalaminerecords.bandcamp.com/album/schattenw-lfe-und-kraken 

Psymon Marshall 2019. 

Boban Ristevski / Zumaia - 00:52:22

Album: 00:52:22

Artist: Boban Ristevski/Zumaia

Label: Kalamine Records

Catalogue no: N/A

Tracklist:

1. 00:52:22

If desolation could be encapsulated in sound, then it would probably be this collaborative album from Macedonian Boba Ristevski and Zumaia from France, released a few days ago. Consisting of a single track cleverly titled after its running length, this begins with a blast of fetid winds blowing across an arid industrial landscape, buildings standing empty and ruinous, debris littering the concrete standings, and what vegetation that lives is sickly and only alive because it’s cowering behind walls and deeply sheltered recesses. Not only that, but the flora is joined by the remnants of the local fauna, mutated and twisted beyond recognition. A distorted, muffled voice emerges out of the blinding, dust- and rust-laden wind to speak or perhaps to warn: simultaneously a strange, insistent metallic ringing is heard from somewhere unidentified, the source obscured by that veil of dust and soil riding the air, its persistence and timbre setting the mind on edge, admonishing us to venture no closer. Perhaps it’s some manner of mechanism, somehow still operational but faulty, enacting its purpose out of programmed custom.

Everywhere we look we see devastation, physical and social. Society and civilisation have collapsed, whatever’s left of mankind has either fled to safer havens or reverted to a pre-industrial level of existence. The sky above, what we can make out of it, is yellow and jaundiced, a weak sun bravely attempting to pierce the thick suffocating cloud cover. Post-apocalyptic yes, but not necessarily nuclear-generated – given the present looming threats of unnaturally accelerated climatic change, perhaps what this is outlining for us is a picture of our future, one where all we took for granted is taken away from us.

Its deliberate lack of development and evolution points to a slow but inevitable degradation, a fading away into dissolution and disintegration. The wind dies down, leaving the voice and the ringing, until eventually the whole fades into just the lone ringing, quietly sounding out into an empty world. The two artists here have created something quite darkly mesmerising – a deeply black prognosis of the current path we’re taking. It’s bleak, austere, cold, gloomy, dark, polluted, and catastrophic, and is truly affecting. 

Head over to Kalamine Record’s Bandcamp page to grab yourself a copy:

https://kalaminerecords.bandcamp.com/track/00-52-22 

Psymon Marshall 2019.