Articles by Jon Buckland
The latest release from Brighton-based, obsidian-pop specialists The Academy of Sun takes a microscope and a poet’s tongue to the tiny traces of existence left behind following life’s unrelenting fall out.
In this cinematic quest, Sarah Lipstate takes us on a sonic journey that rides a breathtaking gauntlet of emotions but settles, ultimately, on tragedy as we reach its life-weary climax.
Sounds surge like dying light laying its last across sacred ground.
It smashed me into a thousand perturbed, titillated shards, scooped me up and reconstituted me down the road of Zorn, Tzadik, Kayo Dot, Secret Chiefs 3 – an unholy nexus of maverick compositional visionaries.
After the third or fourth listen it becomes clear that the welcoming smile, spread across the exterior of these sounds, is masking something sinister that writhes beneath.
An album that focuses the mind, cleanses thoughts and provides space for something greater, something higher to step in.
If Forever is to be considered that letter, then this is a precious correspondence to keep close and treasure.
These distinct portraits of wildly differing people lean trustingly into one another, carefully segueing from one slowing life to another.
a treatise on life, death, and that whole wobbly stretch of existence that straddles the two.
This is heavy music neither for display nor posturing but in a manner that attaches itself to somewhere deep inside of you. It feels heavy. Pins you to your chair like a form of wordless meditation.
They’ve taken their hands off the tiller and are just letting this thing glide off to wherever it chooses.There’s something highly enviable about this approach.
From the architecture-worrying rumbles on ‘Noir’ to the violins that appear to have been strung with my own heartstrings on ‘Everything Will Be Fine’, Chauveau is in encouraging form.
All in all, it’s a good old fashioned pummelling. It’s music that straddles the line between ecstasy and anguish.
Shida Shahabi has seized time as if it is a tangible commodity and forged this short but affectingly delicate EP
Hampus Norén, who mixed my previous record also did some beautiful work in adding the colour and depth that was needed for the sound. Ah, the euphoria you feel when the dynamic you have with the people you work with is great!
Sandwiched within the gargle of otherworldly noise, these tiny and imperceptible trinkets dazzle when illuminated.
This harks back to ancient ways. If Life Metal was a tilting of heads towards the heavens, then this is twisting focus back towards the dawn of time.
The pair’s music gnaws like forgotten memories and treasured recollections coming back in broken fragments. Misremembered and patched together.
Like witnessing the solemn performance of an ancient rite that somehow pierces through your shield of disbelief and touches you deeply. It is careful, considered, patient, and provoking.
Hval has actively encouraged others to share in this process and, as a result, this has led to her most incisive, stirring, and, dare I say it, catchy record yet.
It is maximalist devastation. Industrial revenge. Club music for doomsday cults.