Every summer, my desire to write wanes for a few months before waxing again under the advent of cooler, wetter weather. I used to think that it was because warm weather tends to suck away my energy, and I still think that this may partially be the reason, but lately I’ve decided that during the summer months my focus shifts and most of my available creative energy is channeled into various outside activities, so if a drop in quality is evident here, I blame it on a my seasonal creative distractions. I’m still planning to write some sort of review for every physical release that falls into my hands this year, but I feel that I’m running out of new things to say. I’ve been doing a relatively good job of cutting down on buying new music too, so there will be fewer releases reviewed within these monthly posts. I’m even considering writing reviews in haiku form next month, just for fun.
For some reason, I haven’t been attending any gigs lately either. It has been around a month and a half now.
Read on for more obsessive, nerdy rambling about music.
Birch Book “s/t” 10” (Les Disques du 7eme Ciel, 2011)
What a superb little release! I’ve long been a fan of both In Gowan Ring and Birch Book, so it is my habit to drop everything and immediately purchase anything released by IGR/Birch Book mastermind B’ee. Other than a couple of songs on free download compilation releases, this is B’ee’s first release on French label Les Disques du 7eme Ciel. Appropriately enough, it features French songs. Only the first song, Life’s Lace (the only song here to be solely written by B’ee), is sung in English, although the French language creeps in towards the end. The other two songs on side A, Le Temps De Vivre and La Chanson De Prevert (a version of which also appears on “Webs Among the Din Vol. II”), were written by Georges Moustaki and Serge Gainsbourg respectively. Side B starts with Son Du Soleil, with music by B’ee and lyrics by B’ee and Carole Chiaramonti, and continues with Les Feuilles Mortes, written by Jacques Prevert and Joseph Kosma. The last song, Vent d’Automne, features lyrics by B’ee and Damien Loret and music by B’ee. So what we have here is 3 original compositions and 3 cover versions. On this release, the transition between the original compositions and the cover versions is seamless. For a moment, I was tempted to drag out the old cliché about how (in this case, B’ee) makes the songs sound like his own, but instead I think I’ll just point out that in many cases, musicians simply choose to cover songs written by kindred spirits. Like often attracts like. This is one reason I’m always interested in hearing the musical heroes of my musical heroes. The songs sound like something one might hear emanating from the warm windows of a cottage nestled in the startling green of the French countryside. Without going into further detail, let me end by saying that fans of B’ee’s other work will not be disappointed by this release. It’s somewhat limited too, so act quickly to avoid ridiculous eBay prices.
Tony Wakeford “Oddities” CD (Tursa, 2011)
Not to be confused with the Sol Invictus “Rarities” disc that came as part of the box set reviewed somewhere below. This is indeed an odd little release. In fact, in the liner notes, the ever humble Mr. Wakeford uses the word “baffling” to describe it. Some of the songs on here utilize drum machine, which give them a “demo” or “unfinished sketch” feel. Then there are songs like The Fisherman 1 which sound like something that could have appeared on one of Wakeford’s proper studio releases. Not that this disc is improper, of course. There isn’t any indication of when these sonic sketches, experiments, and songs first saw the gray light of day, but given that this is a “collection of oddities”, the time span represented here could be vast. Most of the pieces are instrumentals, using electronics instead of the lush orchestration that often appears on Sol Invictus and Orchestra Noir releases. The exceptions are the aforementioned acoustic guitar-driven The Fisherman 1, the maudlin electronic neo-classical sounding For Never (which sounds more like Orchestra Noir than Sol Invictus), the hypnotic lament of Queen of Heaven (perhaps my favorite song here), and the darkly comic Again? (a song that starts out with the line, “The sick has returned to the dog again” has got to be good). Again? also features some nice fuzzed out guitar over shifting tectonic plates of electronic sound, giving Queen of Heaven a run for its money. There is also an instrumental version of The Fisherman 1, which has the catchy title of The Fisherman II. The CD closes with untitled Orchestra Noir-like piece, leaving the listener (or at least me) in a somber, reflective state. This is pretty darn good for a series of odds and ends, but shouldn’t serve as an introduction to Tony Wakeford’s music. Discs like this are more for the completist than the novice. I’m a confirmed completist though, so I’m happy to have it stuffed into my bulging CD rack.
Natural Snow Buildings “The Dance of the Moon and the Sun” (Students of Decay, 2008)
Natural Snow Buildings sure do seem to love the double CD format, and this release is no exception, being two discs chock full of gentle psych folk drones, slow rhythms, and delicate vocals. I’ve bought so many Natural Snow Buildings discs this year that I’m starting to run out of new things to say about the band (or maybe I can blame the above-mentioned seasonal drain on my creativity). Everything I’ve heard by them I’ve loved, although I’m sure I’ll develop favorites as time passes. This one is definitely a contender. The songs are haunting and gentle, sometimes draped wispily over a framework of tribal sounding, insistent, percussion, making the disc often sound like a ghost march to nowhere. Good for gray days and thousand yard stares. I’ve been playing this as I crawl into bed at night, and as a result, sometimes my dreams are weird.
Strangely, their only official internet presence seems to be the Myspace page linked above. It sure would be nice to see a proper Natural Snow Buildings site.
Natural Snow Buildings “Laurie Bird” (Students of Decay, 2008)
Obsessively checking eBay occasionally nets me another Natural Snow Buildings release to add to my slowly expanding collection. Fortunately, I’ve also managed to find some of the ridiculously limited releases on Mp3 blogs, so I’m well on my way to having a pretty sizeable collection. “Laurie Bird” is an instrumental cdr featuring 3 pieces, the first of which, Song For Laurie Bird, is long enough to be considered album length all on its own. At slightly over 46 minutes, the piece is a magical trip through droneland, with tinkling chimes, small hand percussion flourishes, feedback, wordless vocal tones, various acoustic instruments, and looped sounds coalescing into a transfixing sonic porridge of sugary goodness. Unlike some drone-based music, it isn’t at all oppressive. In fact, it has exactly the opposite effect, sounding like some sort of triumphant spiritual march. I imagine some sort of sacred temple festival pouring out onto the narrow mountain streets of some far off town. I can almost see the goats and other livestock weaving through packed crowds as serenity finds a welcome home on the uplifted faces of the throng. As the piece nears its conclusion, gritty electric guitar drone seeps in, insinuating itself into the rhythm before creeping away into the background again. The two remaining pieces, Cockmotherfighting and Orisha’s Laments, are similar, with Orisha’s Laments taking on a slightly darker tone. The wordless vocals and harsher drones sound a bit ominous, signaling an end to the festivities as heavy clouds pile up on all horizons and the air raid sirens begin.
Andrew King “Deus Ignotus” (Epiphany, 2011)
It has been 12 years since Andrew King’s last CD, “The Amfortas Wound”, was first released. In the meantime, we’ve been treated to various collaborations, split CDs, and the like, but this is his first full length release solely under his own name since 1999 (although the fact that “The Amfortas Wound” first saw wide release in 2003 might confuse the issue for some people, not that it really matters one way or the other). Now that I’ve had a chance to listen to “Deus Ignotus”, I’m happy to report that King has once again released a CD vastly superior to the previous one. I say this as someone who quite likes “The Amfortas Wound” too. That said, I have to admit that I seldom revisit his 1998 debut, “The Bitter Harvest”. Listening to the songs here, I feel like I’ve cracked open an M.R. James collection on a candlelit evening, although this might be partly because of the most recent Triple Tree collaboration with Tony Wakeford, which was an homage to James. There is no denying the sense of musty ancientness I get from these songs though. They seem to (and in fact, do) arrive from an earlier age, proving that inhabitants of the modern era not only don’t have a monopoly on grimness and murder, but could stand to learn a thing or two from the old ballads on this disc. The first song, Corvus Terrae Terror, is an instrumental intro to the grim ballad The Three Ravens. Both songs were previously released as part of King’s contribution to the Sol Invictus tribute CD, “Sol Lucet Omnibus”, where they were paired up with King’s version of the Sol song, Raven Chorus, although the version of Corvus Terrae Terror here is the full version of the track. Together, these songs were far and away my favorite moments of the Sol tribute, and it’s nice to have them included as part of a proper album, despite the fact that I’ve already heard them. On The Three Ravens, King produces an escalating raw intensity that absolutely convinces. Also familiar is the traditional song, Edward, which King sings on the newest Sol Invictus release as well(and it’s not the first time Sol Invictus has recorded the song either – the first appearance being way back on “King & Queen”, with Tony Wakeford singing). The version here is a capella, giving it a timeless feel. Elsewhere, we find Sic Mea Fata Canendo Solor, sung in Latin, and the album’s centerpiece, the intense ten-minute-plus Judas. For this recording, King has also brought in a church choir, and they lend their admirable talents to In The Upper Room: The Elders of the People Took Counsel, and Judas: Could Ye Not Watch With Me One Hour. The choir adds an even more medieval feel to King’s sonic palette. The disc ends with the brutal Child ballad, Sir Hugh, featuring a pounding rhythm and intense vocals. King knows just when to punctuate the vocal lines with a roar or a snarl. King’s pulsing harmonium is still very much present and he is also credited with flute organ, samples, hobby horse, footsteps, and field recordings. Hunter Barr played flute organ, as well as handling keyboards, samples, loops & drones. They were joined by John Murphy on drums and Maria Vellanz on violin and footsteps (lots of walking around going on, it seems). Vocally, King reaches new heights of drama and snarling instensity. At times, I feel like I’m listening to a theatre piece, and at other times I could be sitting in a dimly lit pub while a folksinger sings songs passed down from his elders. It’s not quite as simple as that though, as the scholarly accompanying notes reveal. Unsurprisingly, King has done very thorough research into the songs that appear here. In fact, the CD booklet comes with a bibliography that would have been much more detailed had space allowed it. In addition to all of his other work here, King has once again provided the cover art, which fits the music nicely. King has every right to be proud of this release.
B’ee “Songs to the Sun Volume II” (self-released, 2011)
Once again B’ee is preparing to go on tour, which means a new cdr has magically appeared to raise funds for travel expenses. Like Volume 1, this is a double cdr, with one disc being a recording of a radio show featuring B’ee talking and playing live on air. The first disc here is also live, being a very recent recording of a gig which took place at the Astoria Arts & Movement Center on May 18th, 2011. Versions of nearly all of these songs have appeared elsewhere, with the possible exception of the beautiful, wistful sounding Shepherd’s Call (written by Valentine Doyle and Gordon Bok). The set for the evening featured songs from as far back as the first In Gowan Ring release, “Love Charms” (the oft-recorded Dandelion Wine) and from as recently as the most recent Birch Book release, “A Hand Full of Days” (the stunning White Angel). Also on hand are Cipher’s String, from the third In Gowan Ring release, “The Glinting Spade”, and a number of more recent songs (Crack of the Sun, Gold in the Hillside, and Stone of White Speckles are also on “Songs to the Sun… Volume 1”, and Rumi’s Dance, as well as 2 versions of Crack of the Sun, can be found on “Webs Among the Din Volume II”). Musically, the songs straddle the mystical (or psych folk, if you will) approach favored by B’ee on the In Gowan Ring discs and the more straightforward approach featured on the more recent releases. That said, out of all the Birch Book songs, White Angel probably comes closest to sounding like In Gowan Ring. Some of the newer songs, like Gold in the Hillside, with its delicate tabla, relative brevity (3 minutes), and general aura of quiet happiness, don’t move me in the way that the more haunting songs do. I guess I’m just a sucker for musical melancholy. The last time I saw B’ee perform, it was a relatively intimate affair, but here there is a full band, with contrabass, tabla, harp, lyre, organ, and backing vocals. The sound of the recording is more than acceptable too, and this is definitely a disc I’ll find myself revisiting over the years. The second disc is from a radio show called “Day of the Velvet Voice”, broadcast on KMUN on May 9th, 2011, and featuring some of the same songs as the first disc (Stone of White Speckles, White Angel, Shepherd’s Call, and Crack the Sun), plus others (Winter Flowers and The Wandering Boy). Unlike the bonus disc that came with the first “Songs to the Sun…”, this one is nicely broken up into tracks, although some of the song tracks have snippets of interview included. As for the interview, B’ee talks about instrument building (demonstrating a hurdy gurdy) and tea drinking. Winter Flowers is especially nice. There are two studio tracks to start off the show, Son du Soleil from the new Birch Book 10”, and one other song that for the moment, I can’t place. It’s a very nice song though. I think I prefer this over the first volume, although to me, they’re both necessary purchases.
Ellen Mary McGee “Crescent Sun” (Midwich, 2009)
The skeletal banjo and unearthly soaring of McGee’s voice on He Is No Earthly Man hooked me and hauled me aboard the good ship McGee. I’m not very familiar with McGee’s work as vocalist/founding member of UK psych folk act Saint Joan, although I’ve been meaning to check the band out since before I became aware of this release. A mention of this disc in Jeanette Leech’s “Seasons They Change” inspired me to buy it, although the first time I ordered it, the vendor ended up canceling my order due to an inability to obtain more copies. I eventually picked up a coverless promo copy of this on Discogs (for a much cheaper price, I might add). It’s hard to directly support musicians when new copies seem to be so difficult to come by, so instead I’ll support McGee’s efforts by writing about the disc here. The music is the kind of haunting folk balladry that the British seem to do so well. I can imagine it played in a candlelit pub at 2:00 AM, to an audience of the nocturnal lonely. I’ve heard a version of Lord Franklin before – perhaps by Pentangle. It’s a woeful ballad about a doomed Arctic expedition, and McGee’s version is appropriately chilling, with her sometimes breathy voice lamenting the loss of the eponymous lord. The rest of this short disc similar in tone, with sparse instrumentation (guitar, cello, violin, electric guitar, bass, percussion, piano, organ, mandolin, glockenspiel, and the previously mentioned banjo) languidly driving the songs along to their often bitter ends. I find myself drawn to the banjo based songs – the combination of banjo and McGee’s voice on He Is No Earthly Man, The Wintering, and Teeth of the Hydra is perfect. McGee very ably clothes the skeletal banjo melodies in the warm skin of her voice, producing strange, spectral songs in the process. Elsewhere, the body count rises with songs like The Fatal Flower Garden, where the dangers of chasing a ball into the neighbor’s yard become all too real for one young lad. In the end, this disc proves that there is indeed room for one more melancholy British folk CD on my shelves, and I’m glad to have it there.
Sol Invictus “The Collected Works” (Prophecy Productions, 2011)
To thoroughly review this massive box set would be the work of decades. Come to think of it, this release itself is the work of decades, since it contains every Sol Invictus release, from “Against The Modern World” (1988) to the just released “The Cruellest Month”.
The first records I remember listening to as a young child were by American folk artists like Pete Seeger, Odetta, The Weavers, and Kingston Trio, to name a few. Like many curious young lads growing up in the seventies, I simply raided my parents’ record collection, completely missing the underlying political and sexual themes to many of the songs. It wasn’t long before I abandoned folk music for the likes of Kiss, Blue Oyster Cult, and Judas Priest. The reason I mention this at all is because I at least partially credit Sol Invictus with re-introducing me to folk music. The First Sol Invictus record I heard was the live recording, “In The Jaws Of The Serpent”, and I was drawn in by its primitive beauty. “Trees In Winter” cemented things for me though, scratching an itch I didn’t know I had, and sending me headlong into the morass of British folk and folk rock artists like June Tabor, Pentangle, Steeleye Span, Fairport Convention, and others, seeking out other versions of songs, like Twa Corbies and Michael, that I’d first heard on Sol records. Subsequent Sol discs sent me on similar searches. At around the same time, David Tibet introduced me to the likes of Shirley Collins, Anne Briggs, and the like, and like some hideous monster spawned in the darkness beneath my bed, my collection grew. For some reason, this music really clicked with me, revealing a dark side to the more upbeat examples of the genre that I’d first encountered as an impressionable child. It was sort of like coming full circle. In fact, some of the songs struck me as so bleak that they almost seemed an inoculation against despair. After all, it’s hard to weep and moan about my own life when I have songs like Trees In Winter to compare it to: “The future waits with an icy kiss/As we stumble towards our nemesis/A sea of loneliness to engulf us/A noose of regrets to choke us.
Perhaps it’s the combination of folk instrumentation and melodies with the rougher edge and grimness of the underground scene spawned in the eighties. The music of Sol Invictus has always communicated to me a sense of toil and hopelessness that brings the dark ages to mind, although many of the songs are a clear reaction against the toil and hopelessness of our own age.
Reviewing this seems kind of silly. The casual listener isn’t likely to cough up the money to buy this box, and the rabid fan doesn’t need to be convinced. Also, the reissues of the individual CDs will slowly be released over the coming months, allowing the more casual fans to cherry pick their favorites. Sure, there are 4 CDs exclusive to this release, but two of them, “Brugge” and “Trieste”, are live CDs previously released by Tony Wakeford on his Tursa label. The third exclusive disc, “Rarities”, features the 3 hidden tracks from the 2006 reissue of “Sol Veritas Lux”, the 3 Sol songs from “A Mythological Prospect of the Citie of Londinium”, and 8 other tracks originally released as either bonus tracks on reissues or on compilations. Only one disc, the relatively brief “Aprilis”, features material that hasn’t been released elsewhere, and there are only four songs on here, totaling slightly less than 29 minutes in duration. The first song, A Fool In April, is the only one with vocals, and the vocal lines are chanted with the usual Wakefordian conviction. The other three songs, Aprilis I, II, and III, and all electronic loop-based instrumentals, which although nice, aren’t the most exciting things I’ve heard from Wakeford.
I have my favorites among the re-released discs. I’ve already mentioned “Trees In Winter”, but I also must mention “Lex Taliones”, “In The Rain”, “The Blade”, and “In A Garden Green”. “In Europa”, although it’s not a proper studio album (a live radio show and part of an Orchestra Noir gig in France that I attended back in 1995), is also worth mentioning. I love the strange, nocturnal jazziness that infected “Hill of Crosses” and “Thrones”, and the contributions of Matt Howden and Sally Doherty while they were in the band must also be mentioned – both of them are brilliant. Karl Blake brought a wonderful grittiness to the CDs he appeared on, not to mention his occasional vocal contributions, which were quite excellent.
It’s interesting to note that two of the CDs, “La Croix” and “Cupid & Death”, included here as Sol Invictus CDs, were originally released as Tony Wakeford solo CDs. Revisionist history?
The box includes 3 live DVDs, recorded in Hamburg in 1991, Lyon in 1993, and Leipzig at WGT in 1998. The latter includes two songs from Le Caveau, Paris, also from 1998. The Hamburg one is my favorite, since it has acceptable video quality and was recorded 4 years before I first saw any incarnation of the band on stage, making it a window into a time period when the band was still a bit of a mysterious entity to me. The Lyon video is Tony Wakeford solo, and is notable because he dusts off the old Death In June era song, Holy Water, prefacing it by saying he hadn’t played it in 10 years. Finally, The WGT show, featuring one of my favorite Sol line-ups, has acceptable sound but suffers from absolutely miserable video quality, making me wish it had been released as a CD instead. The other bonus live material spread out on CD over the length and breadth of this box set varies in quality but none of it is indispensible. I did quite like the solo set from CBGB’s though, and for a Sol Invictus completist, it doesn’t really matter whether the live material is indispensable or not.
There is a lot of Tor Lundvall’s beautiful artwork included in this set, some of which I hadn’t previously seen. To my mind, that’s just one more reason to own this.
For a complete track listing, visit the Discogs.com page for this release.
The other bonus material is culled from various EPs and compilations, previously unreleased demos, unused mixes, and the like. It’s an overwhelming amount of material, and I don’t pretend to think that I can do it justice with this rambling review. I will mention that I’m really happy to finally have heard the Sol version of the song Owl and the Pussycat though, since originally appeared on a compilation I never managed to buy. So far, I’ve only listened to the whole set once, except for the new disc, “The Cruellest Month”, which I’ve had on repeat play over the past week or two, and it has quickly turned into my favorite Sol Invictus release since “In A Garden Green” from 12 year ago. The addition of Andrew King to the line-up makes this a schizophrenic beast. Sol Invictus started out with two vocalists, but Ian Read’s vocal style was so similar to Wakeford’s that one hardly noticed where one ended and the other began. King’s vocal style, however, is quite different, and the songs he sings add a more dramatic, fiercer edge to the album. The disc begins with the wintery chill of Raining in April, which despite its title, seems to be a gleefully morbid reflection on aging. Kill All Kings plays like a revolutionary chant, with Wakeford and King (King perhaps a bit nervously, given his surname) sharing the vocals. On the hilarious Toys, Wakeford happily treads on childhood memories as the band plays what sounds to me like a seasick circus tune, complete with accordion. Reading between the lines, one could interpret the song as being about our inevitable loss of innocence as we grow older. I get a bleak chuckle out of many Sol Invictus songs, because sometimes that is the only way to deal with despair. I’m reminded that it is human nature to make jokes in the wake of tragedy. Humor is a kind of armor against sadness. I think that this is one of the reasons I’m so drawn to music like this. The streak of dark humor running though the bleak lyrics actually serves as a shield against despair, as does the music itself. If I ever became a musical therapist, I would use this music to help people. Of course, I’m very aware that it might backfire and cause a rash of suicides. It’s probably a good thing I don’t plan to become a musical therapist. The version of Edward, sung by King, is quite different from the a capella version on King’s new solo album, but no less good. The Bad Luck Bird and Stella Maris were both released on a 7” last year, so they’re not new to me. The former has really grown on me, and I think I now count it as one of my favorite new songs here. The Child ballad Cruel Lincoln, sung by King, is another song tangentially related to the history of Sol Invictus, since Ian Read sang a version of this, entitled Long Lankin, on his first post-Sol Invictus release, “Gilded by the Sun”. Despite telling the same story and featuring many of the same lines, the two versions are vastly different. Read’s version is understated and eerie, while King’s version is dramatic and builds quite nicely with acoustic guitar, drums, and a repetitive violin melody. After King ends the song with a snarl, the fuzzed out vocals of the ominous Something Is Coming take us back into the barren wasteland so often visited on Sol Invictus releases. The song reminds me of tracks like Trees In Winter and The Blade, both of which sound to me like forced marches to oblivion (I mean that in a good way). The rest of the album is of similar high quality, ending with the traditional song, Blackleg Miner, a song I first heard on a Steeleye Span album way back when. The Sol version is much less peppy, of course. After listening to this album a few times, I’m impressed by its musical diversity. It melds the lushness of albums like “In The Rain” with the harsher edge of albums like “The Blade”, although it’s a different kind of harshness, being dependent on King’s vocals instead of Karl Blake’s bass sound, which in part made “The Blade” so formidable. Also, like I mentioned earlier, King’s vocals introduce a whole new element to the sound. It’s a pity he’s already out of the band. I’m curious to see in what direction the good ship Sol heads next, especially since there have been hints of upcoming changes.
I’m comforted by the fact that if I ever need to, I can live in the box this came in. As Mr. Wakeford himself said, this release is as big as a Bavarian castle, and as expensive as one.
Amebix “Knights of the Black Sun” (Profane Existence, 2011)
I didn’t actually receive the physical version of this record until July, which means it should be part of my next batch of reviews, but when I heard that the pressing plant had messed up, thus causing a delay in shipping, I impatiently snatched an mp3 from Amazon (where I had a credit, making it free) so I could hear the FIRST NEW AMEBIX SONG TO BE RELEASED IN NEARLY A QUARTER OF A CENTURY. That’s right. This is just one song, pressed on a beautiful thick slab of vinyl, with a laser-etched image of the Austin Osman Spare inspired “splathead” logo on the flipside. The record comes with a free download coupon for the accompanying video, which I also impatiently watched online the minute it was available. I have to preface the review with the fact that Amebix have been one of my favorite bands in the punk/metal genres since the eighties, and finally seeing them live in 2009 is probably the closest thing to a religious experience that I’m ever likely to have. In short, my expectations were quite high for the new material, and it has been interesting seeing other reactions to this online. Some people took the cynical route, questioning the band’s motives for reforming and recording again, but there will always people who do that when old bands reform. Usually, especially in this age of internet transparency, motives are pretty clear, and in this case, I find no reason to question anything here. This was just the right time for Amebix to emerge again. We have here a one song appetizer for the new full-length, “Sonic Mass”, set to be released on the Autumn Equinox, and I now consider my appetite fully whetted. At first, I was taken aback by vocalist/bassist Rob Miller’s change in vocal style. The song starts slowly, with sung vocals that sound much different from his vocal style on the quieter parts from the old Amebix albums, but change is good, and I recently listened to an interview where Miller admitted that he sometimes winces while listening to his old singing style. The new song builds in intensity as it progresses, and familiar Amebix elements enter the fray. Chugging guitar and Miller’s distinct growl are both present, and there is an added maturity to the music (although that is to be expected, especially when one considers that the bulk of the Amebix songs were written when the band members were mere kids). The lyrics, as usual, contain imagery very much rooted in the land and sky, and the hope that has always lurked beneath the darkness of the band’s lyrical themes really shines through at the apex of the song’s long, slow buildup to the sonic peak jutting above the clouds. Ghostly keyboards blanket the harshness like a layer of morning mist above a river. The accompanying video illustrates the lyrical content, but in my mind falls a bit short, perhaps due to limited budget. It seems a bit too video-gamey to me. That minor quibble aside, I’m very much looking forward to the full album in a couple of months.
Thanks John. Most kind of you.
Posted by: Tony Wakeford | 10/03/2011 at 06:18 AM
You're very welcome, Tony.
Posted by: John Scharpen | 10/11/2011 at 08:03 PM