Showing posts with label The Sleeping Shaman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Sleeping Shaman. Show all posts

Thursday, July 29, 2021

The Sleeping Shaman on Not Everybody Makes It

Review: Mark Solotroff ‘Not Everybody Makes It’

How important is it to be acquainted with the oeuvre of an artist before embarking on the listening required to review their work? Should the reviewer be au fait with the back catalogue of the creator, their side projects, solo work, former bands before committing an opinion, or even a guided tour of the new dispatch to words? Do I need to have at least an overview of a musician’s previous output in order to contextualise their new creation? Or does having their artistic back catalogue as a point of reference colour the way that any and all listeners hear, experience and formulate views on everything the artist does ad infinitum?

Mark Solotroff ‘Not Everybody Makes It’

In short, is it better to dive in cold or to gradually immerse oneself in the heated pool of historical creation?

No idea. But it is a question with some relevance when one comes to the work of Mark Solotroff, who, for those who are unaware, is a veteran of the doom band Anatomy Of Habit as well as the electronic band Bloodyminded.  He founded the early post-industrial band Intrinsic Action and has played a part in, or otherwise collaborated with, a list of acts as long as your arm, including The Atlas Moth, Brutal Truth, Consumer Electronics, Indian, Locrian, Plague Bringer, Sigillum S, and The Sodality. There are as many polarities as there are points of useful comparison in this list but there is a vein coursing with a consistent lifeblood that underlies Solotroff’s work, and that sanguinatory fluid is a love for the analogue synth.

I’m no synth expert – analogue or otherwise – but this album is awash with swathes of synth drones, tones, and noise, huge washes of brittle texture bordering on crisp, stretched percussion in their timbre and pitch. Against this sonic setting the melodies, such as they are, comprise simple, short softer phrases that contrast with the thin, continuous drone that form the backbone of each piece.

The drone shimmers throughout this collection sounding for all the world like a glass armonica, swelling and rising, swirling around the head of the listener, giving the feeling of being lost in the baleful fog of a nineteen seventies children’s television programme in which psychedelic horror, far too adult for its audience, threatens the protagonist (and vicariously the viewer) at every twist. This music is metallic enough to leave a coppery taste in the listener’s mouth but it certainly ain’t metal. This is a pure, fragile, crystalline drone, one that conjures images of its creation on Tibetan singing bowls and the aforementioned glass armonica, though one assumes that these sounds were teased by Solotoff out of his beloved analogue synths.

layers of stillness, movement, fragility, ambivalence, menace, and unease wrapped in the strata of glassy, metallic drone…

Re-listening to Not Everybody Makes It I keep coming back to the idea that there’s an all encompassing stillness in this music, and yet at its heart is an inexorable motion, a movement that is perpetual but keeps us trapped within a Escher-like circuit, ever gliding on, never to reach the end, yet always at the end. The accompanying promotional material describes this work as unexpectedly tranquil and that maybe true if the listener is expecting something akin to Solotroff’s previous work. I can’t help feeling that within the brittle drone is a dark ambivalence bordering on menace – one could, with little difficulty, imagine certain scenes from a Ben Wheatly or an Ari Aster film being played out to any of the pieces herein. 

There is a device within this album, in that each piece is exactly ten minutes long.  There are two views one could take of this: Firstly, that shorter pieces have been pointlessly stretched and longer pieces cruelly curtailed in order to satisfy the conceit. Secondly, that the artist has disciplined his ambition to provide himself with a constrictive frame within which he must work. I like the latter way of looking at it, by placing limits on his work Solotroff has stretched himself, rather than the ideas, has forced himself to answer a self-imposed question. This, I would imagine, requires some rigour from a creative, a willingness to corral and cull any organic growth that wants to spread beyond the prescribed space.

This collection was in part Solotroff’s response to the emergence of the pandemic last year, a set of circumstances that intensified the significance of the themes with which his work is usually concerned – how people navigate and interact with each other, particularly in an age of alienation caused by severe digital fragmentation, how cities develop and how the human body navigates urban environments. Taking this into account the layers of stillness, movement, fragility, ambivalence, menace, and unease wrapped in the strata of glassy, metallic drone make sense.  This is a very beautiful yet disquieting collection that Solotroff has created, perfect for our times.

Label: Independent
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Instagram

Scribed by: George Green

Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Sleeping Shaman on Anatomy of Habit

Anatomy Of Habit ‘Ciphers + Axioms’ CD/LP/DD 2014

13th November 2014

Anatomy Of Habit 'Ciphers + Axioms' 

Anatomy Of Habit is the brainchild of noise icon Mark Solotoroff, and Ciphers + Axioms marks their Relapse Records debut. Two monolithic tracks of heft and crush, combining vast post metal riffs and noise rock menace, make one of this year’s most interesting releases.

The band has that talent for putting you totally at unease. The rich, poetic spoken word of the creeping, hypnotic intro to Radiate And Recede builds into a looming wall of thick guitar. The vocals get more agitated as the piece moves, layering crushing Neurosis riffs over slow, pounding drums. There’s some cool dirge riffs around the five and a half minute point, that roil and sway like a stricken ship. There are softer moments too, where the layers of gloom are stripped away for barely a minute before some grinding faster riffs appear. The song builds into a crescendo of crashing riffs, where the vocals become almost like an impassioned preacher, then it drops away to begin again. There’s a beautiful sense of ebb and flow, and the title encapsulates the song perfectly.

Second track Then Window is the slightly longer of the two, and opens with squalling feedback that builds into a juddering riff fest. It then descends to a more melodic and gentler passage, while not necessarily more mellow, definitely adds variety into the mix. There’s something mesmerising about Solotoroff’s vocals on this track, that baritone vocal sounding somewhere between the croon of Maynard James Keenan and the more eccentric style of David Tibet. The repetitive nature of the vocals in this track, particularly the album title refrain, is very effective while the music swells and fades behind him. When that part comes to a close and it becomes just instruments, there is more than a hint of Jesu peering over this. It’s a perfect moment of calm, tranquil and ethereal. It bleeds atmospheric all over the next 7 or so minutes, a droning buzz saturating subtle melodies that seep out of the murk. It finishes off the record perfectly, and it’s almost saddening when it finishes.

Ciphers + Axioms is a strange beast. Equal parts atmospheric droning beauty and crashing, riff heavy goodness, Anatomy Of Habit has created something rather good here. If you like Neurosis and Swans, but like a nice slice of relaxing drone in there too, this could be for you.


Label: Relapse Records  
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp
Scribed by: Sandy Williamson

http://www.thesleepingshaman.com/reviews/album-reviews/a/anatomy-of-habit-ciphers-axioms-cd-lp-dd-2014/

Monday, November 19, 2012

The Sleeping Shaman on Sun Splitter "III" LP


Sun Splitter ‘III’ LP/DD 2012

19th November 2012

Merchants of industrialised psychedelic ur-doom, Chicago’s Sun Splitter have been honing their craft over the last couple of years and a handful of increasingly sharper-sounding releases, getting closer and closer to the perfect meld of Boing Boom Tschak mechanised heavy duty rhythms and white-light-white-out psychedelic overload and with III, their second full-length, they may well have hit the mother-load.

An urgently looping drum pattern and swelling feedback usher in ‘Eye Of Jupiter’, beginning in earnest as the ligature-taut guitars and bass of Francis Hays and Jacob Essak crack the skies and the distorted, heavily treated voice of Anthony A. Dunn begins to chant, yell and shriek.

The track builds from chugging rhythm and swathes of manipulated noise into a white-hot monolith of piled-up molten guitar and Dunn’s inhuman shrieks, evoking much of the spirit of early Godflesh and those other industrial noise-rock pioneers Head Of David.

Those treated vocals are used in an entirely textural fashion on second cut ‘Parasitic Machine’, mangled to within an inch of recognition and seamlessly integrated amongst the moodily bruising guitars, hissing ambience and distantly tolling bells that make up the body of the track. Halfway through its ten minute span, the brutally simplistic drum-machine cuts out entirely and anything recognisable is peeled right back to reveal an abstract sound assembly of brittle guitar strings, indistinct throbbing, hollow chants, dubbed-out snarls and temple bells, leaving me very much in mind of early Sonic Youth – which is no bad thing at all.

In fact, all this talk of early Sonic Youth and Head Of David makes me realise that Sun Splitter would have been very much at home on the Blast First label, eighties home of the afore-mentioned bands, noise-rock luminaries like Big Black, and out and out weirdos like the Butthole Surfers, Glen Branca, Sun Ra and Big Stick – another drum-machine driven band, sadly unappreciated these days.

Sure, there’s a lot of Godflesh in Sun Spiltter’s sound, but it’s the early, dripping with menace and bad vibes incarnation of the band, along with the spooked-out damaged psych of latter-day Loop and Terminal Cheesecake. A potent brew indeed.

‘The Serpent’s Golden Death’ reverses the way of the previous number by beginning with the clanging, chiming ambience and layered vocal drones and tones then introducing a minimalistic bone-crunching drum pattern and a dirgey Sabbathian riff that builds and builds before suddenly exploding into trebly Black Metal riffage and serious drum-machine overload. The track ends with everything bar a naggingly insistent vocal drone being annihilated by oscillating electronics.

These emanations are decidedly trans-plutonic.

Fractured Doom Metal with a menacing vibe drives ‘Into The Broken Lands’, with its brutal beat, intertwining astringent cheesewire guitars and a massive Melvins-esque chugging section. Dunn’s vocals on the end section here are as clear as they’ll ever be and still sound spectral and hollow.

This leaves only sixteen minute closer ‘Two Cold Oceans’ to finish things up, starting with a Jesus & Mary Chain/Stooges-esque raga-tinged riff and rhythm that slowly gets twisted out of shape across the body of the track as guitars thickly roar, vocals are pulled into multiple dimensions and eventually the entire track is fed back through itself multiple times to become a juddering, jittery black hole of kaleidoscopic white noise, Dunn’s roar ever caught upon the event horizon.

More regimented than fellow Chicagoans Locrian, yet not quite plumbing the bestial depths and frying as many soft fragile eggshell minds as near neighbours Drug Honkey, Sun Splitter instead choose their own middle path through the psychedelic experience, taking flight from the same space as Godflesh and their ilk but ultimately flying nearer to the white light of total annihilation than Broadrick and Green ever did.

Scribed by: Paul Robertson