This is a match made in heaven, by my
estimation, as chronic bizarros Al Qaeda team up with the lovely
(albeit new to me) D/A A/D (Alex Pearson). And as I sort of
surmised from the cover art, it's a frequently ominous adventure.
Pearson seems to emerge with the crown when it comes to sheer,
menacing darkness – a formidable feat, methinks, considering he's
armed solely with a modular analog synthesizer – whilst Al Qaeda
brings a more eclectic and unpredictable approach to the table.
On their precisely thirty five minute
and thirty second exploit, Al Qaeda's three
brethren test out a quartet
of experiments. The first (and perhaps most
significant) attraction is the
shifting, evil drone of somehow aptly-dubbed “Rotten Trail,” which
is ornamented by various pulses, ebbs, rubs, hums, rushes, and the
ilk. Amid the carnage lie remnants of contact mics and oscillators,
but as the track rolls on the listener comes to hear various facets concealed
deep in the muddle – faint percussion, nautical bubbles, feedback
gurgles – until the composition segues into a brief, almost pristine
bit of guitar prettiness by track's end. It's a spirited and
disconcerting romp, no doubt. Subtle “Late Bloomer” follows,
bringing with it a trail of ringing guitar loneliness
with enough longing to milk your eyes dry, though it's
the curious
down-and-out ambiance that really piqued by interest – I couldn't
help but imagine this as the score to an abstract
wandering-around-town scene in some obscure mumblecore flick. And I
mean that in the best possible way. I'm not sure how the remaining
two tracks fit together,as things get a little confusing from
here on in,
but the A-side concludes with a clean little spangling guitar
line over which echoed vocals and assorted electronic oscillations
ferment blissfully. As I alluded to earlier, this is patent weirdness
from this talented troupe.
Moving on (or, more
precisely, flipping over),
Halifax's Alex Pearson teaches me that not every
Nova Scotian is as cheery as my
stereotypes would have me believe; instead, his side is a chilling ether of
morbid synthesizer respiration. His expansive
stretch boasts an
impeccable dark ambient atmosphere – “Seventh Layer,” the first of
his three compositions, is exemplary in this sense, as it layers a
menacing subbasement of foreboding hums below
assorted eeriesynth
excreta. And as if that weren't enough, “Dreadfull [sic] Resonation”
lowers matters further into the ground with a spectacular, slowly
pulsing trail of analog growl. The rest of the side
then putters out in a quiet, endlessly-repeating feedback-grumble phrase
– very somnolent in its manner. Perhaps dulled a bit by its lengthy conclusion
sequence, D/A A/D's half of this hefty split is nevertheless an
excellent example of the sorts of vivid atmospheres one highly
customizable instrument (a modular synthesizer) can produce.
Ultimately, this charming, limited
little analog nugget is a worthwhile treat from the notably prolific
Husk label. There is no shortage of oddball noise releases pouring out
these days, but this one is remarkably solid.
