Embers Below Zero/Grist - Split Frequencies Vol. 1

Album: Split Frequencies Vol. 1

Artist: Embers Below Zero/Grist

Label: Sombre Soniks

Catalogue no: SomSon 141

Tracklist:

     1.      Concrete Elemental – Embers Below Zero

     2.      You are at the Gate, You are the Key – Grist

As the title of this new album from UK label Sombre Soniks suggests, this is the first in a new series featuring split releases, and on this one in particular we have two long-form pieces from projects hailing from Poland and Australia. Of course, the idea isn’t new, it being something of a tradition in certain underground music circles, but nevertheless it’s a welcome move on the part of the label. In many respects I prefer this format to the anthology/compilation: the flavour of an artist’s work can be gauged more fully through longer tracks than short pieces, at least in my books.

In light of that, then, what’s the prognosis here? Embers Below Zero’s ‘Concrete Elemental’ starts off with a distant but bright figure repeated until a raw static-infused wave fades in as if some hovering behemoth is crossing the distance between the far horizon and one’s immediate viewpoint, only to be superseded by an ambient drone that takes wing and soars heavenward. Whining guitar feedback accompanies the floating ambience, seguing into an ebbing and flowing organic rasp, reminiscent of something living and breathing, a steady, perhaps ultimately malign, presence, darkening the sky and casting its baleful aura earthward. It becomes the pulse of the piece, an elemental heartbeat giving life and sustenance to whatever entity has been conjured up. Strength and energy continually pile up upon themselves, sounding an alarm, signalling its immensely overwhelming power. Whatever species of entity hangs above our heads, it isn’t benign in any way, shape, or form, and even when it gradually fades we’re still left with the noisy ghost of its presence, an afterimage of darkness left on the pale azure of the sky, as a constant reminder.

Grist’s piece (‘You are at the Gate, You are the Key’) begins with the barking of a small dog (and, for a brief moment, I really thought it was a neighbour’s animal causing havoc), which, in some peculiar manner, reminds me of a guardian dog, like one of those that stand sentinel at the gates of a Buddhist temple. The barking is relatively brief, replaced by some quietly grandiose chords and a drum, gradually swelling in strength and distortion, indicative of the powerful currents of energy swirling around the sacred structure itself, agitating and driving the very air enveloping it. One can also imagine the cloud layer above it roiling frenetically, an inverted analogue of a choppy, storm-tossed sea, animated by the energies radiating outwards and upwards. To enhance the sacred flavour of the track even further a beat sequence reminiscent of tablas emerges, perhaps an accompaniment to a ritual dance being performed to win the favour of the gods. Smoke and incense pervade the temple, demarcating the boundaries of an extra-dimensional space in which nothing profane can exist, as well as acting as a meeting place where humans and deities can gather on equal terms and communicate in mutual understanding. There’s absolutely no doubting that the distorted guitar chords and organ swells, as well as the tones themselves, speak of the sacred, as well as the harmony of the spheres, and their overall effect is to elevate and to switch on and attune one’s mind to the cosmic. Like the title implies, our entry beyond the gate and access to the temple’s grounds are entirely dependent on the realisation that we hold the keys and always have done – we cannot ask the gods outright, as we must gain their trust and favour first. Even then, the ultimate goal isn’t guaranteed.

This first entry in the series is an unqualified winner and, if subsequent entries follow the quality on display here, then the label is assured a successful venture. Both can be classified as magnificent examples of the long-form drone/ritual ambient oeuvre, but it has to be said that of the two tracks the one by Grist just has the extremely slight edge for me, wrapping itself around my brain’s pleasure centres that particularly respond to this species of sacral, cosmic music. Even so however, it has to be noted that, for a brief moment, lasting no longer than the running time of the whole album, I was swept away from this dreary reality and transported to other realms, dimensions that I can only dream about. This music is music that can be felt and experienced rather than merely being heard, providing something of an immersive environment. Personally, I ask for nothing more from music than this.

Available as a download and stream from Sombre Sonik’s Bandcamp on the link below:

https://sombresoniks.bandcamp.com/album/split-frequencies-vol-i

Psymon Marshall 2019. 

Grist - AuGrist.

Album: AuGrist

Artist: Grist

Label: Sombre Soniks

Catalogue no: SomSon137

Tracklist:

     1.      The Augurist

     2.      I Dreamed of Frogs and Gravel

     3.      The Three Remains

One thing I’ve learned is that P23’s Sombre Soniks label has a habit of releasing offbeat and intriguing music, usually of a deeply occult, mystical, and shamanic nature. This latest example, a three-track album from Australian project Grist is no exception, and furthermore it only underscores my belief that Sombre Soniks is something of an underrated entity. So far I’ve been impressed by the sheer variety and quality of their output, and this album definitely ticks all the right boxes if you’re looking for some shamanic/ritual ambient/noise, or even just some unconstrained experimentation.

Grist’s philosophy, especially on this example, is quite simple and straightforward: creation through an absence of intent and direction – in other words, let’s just press play and see what happens. The music is allowed to initiate its own conversations and to choose its own themes, with the musician being the interlocutor and interpreter. Ideas, concepts, and perceptions are picked up and discarded, or flow over and through each other, adding subtle hues and colours available to the artist’s palette with which to paint the ever-unfolding vistas.

Skirling pipes wail a mind-cleansing welcome on ‘The Augurist’, a swirling, whirling maelstrom of howling, keening currents that seek to pick you up and carry you off to the stratospheric heights. Once up above the clouds, those currents are joined by counter-currents interweaving between, over, under, and through the main stream, emphasising, underlining, counterpointing, accentuating, and supporting. The view from up here is spectacular: the whole panoply of creation is laid out beneath you, an almost endless sea of greens, browns, and stone greys. If nothing else, the flight amongst the wispy clouds reminds you that creation is profound and fecund, and that we are but an insignificant part of that neverending process.

‘I Dreamed of Frogs and Gravel’ gallops in on a hypnotic tribal rhythm, and riding upon its back is a brightly ringing, shimmering bell-like loop, hooking you in instantly and towing you along with it on a psychedelic fantasy of new shapes, colours, and landscapes, continually metamorphosing in an unbridled act of creation and evolution. The one emotion which this track provoked was joy; here is the definition of an overflowing of potentialities and possibilities, each iteration rushing into existence before it, too, is subsumed by a further outgrowth. These are thoughts made manifest, moulded by imagination alone. But, like all things subject to the rules of evolution, it too changes, assuming moods according to its own philosophy and needs. There are times of explosive metamorphoses followed by times of quiescence and inactivity. However, when it quietens down it doesn’t mean that the process has ceased: just because a bear hibernates it doesn’t mean that it’s died – it’s merely waiting for the right moment to reawaken. This, I imagine, is what it feels to be creator, godhead, and deity.

‘The Three Remains’ is a completely different beast, opening with a deadly mechanical contraption emitting gouts of flame and carcinogenesis. Poisonous exhalations of industrial rasping, growling and grunting, spouting sparks and molten metal with a grim, dirty iron foundry aesthetic, a claustrophobic manufactory suffocating in black smoke. This is nothing less than a limitless nightmare of circular saws, flamethrowers, and sandblasters, flensing skin in an orgy of destruction and annihilation. It’s a raw exposition of extinction and extermination, a hymnal to unchecked chaos and anarchy. It feels unhealthy, diseased, and tainted, a carrion-bearer of plague and infestation. Then, like the previous track, it changes: even in the midst of devastation and ruin, life persists. Tiny things scratch and scramble against a gentle breath providing its own rhythm, a reminder that a way will always be found to re-emerge. And once it gains a foothold then its presence increases until it becomes a new tide, washing away the filth of the old and failed.

What can I say? What we have here is a suite of mood pieces, ranging from the exhilarating to the devastating. Like I noted above, the tracks were allowed to progress in their own way, permitted to unfold as they were wont to do, organically and naturally. Music speaks, but it does so depending on the intentions of the artist or, in this case, of the music itself. This is proof that music has a will and life of its own, and that it sometimes refuses to be constrained, or follow the rules. Judging by the results issued here, Grist understands what his music wants to tell him, and he trusts it enough to let it speak through its own voice. For me, this is another winner from Sombre Soniks.

Available as a download from here:

https://sombresoniks.bandcamp.com/album/augrist

Psymon Marshall 2019.