Originally hailing from across the Irish sea prior to settling in Liverpool, Close To Home is a record born forth from a period of deep reflection, mediation and longing. Here, within this deeply textured record, the post rock duo reflect upon their Gaelic heritage, the people and places who forged them as individuals and the eternal majesty of home through ephemeral dynamism. It’s a record of ache and bittersweetness, one articulated through swelling brass, metallic shoegaze, classic post-rock sensibilities and a record that stands as an album where one can faintly hear the faded Irish folklore whispering across the emerald sea. It’s also inevitably going to be one the best post rock releases of this year.
Opener and leading single ‘Párc Béal Uisce’ swiftly showcases such sensualities with grace, patience and heart-wrenching emotion. As the track ebbs and flows between tenderness and cresting half-time majesty, it’s impossible not to harken for a personal period of ones life lost to the annuals for time. As it, and the proceeding rugged nature of ‘Tor Head’ and the reverb drenched density of ‘Down To The Floor further attests to, this record see’s A Burial At Sea refining the patience that is inherent to genre in order to distill a sense of sentimentalism in it’s most potent form. Even with the record being mostly void of vocals, the fashion in which the duo articulate the convoluted human sensation of longing and bittersweetness surpasses the limited nature of language.
Singer/bassist Phillip Frobos, guitarist Frankie Broyles and now full time drummer Chris Yonker return for their second album to be released on the Sub Pop label. The jerky, angular, spikey post punk sound they deal in recalls a hybrid of Pavement, Wire, Television, whom are not known for their discharging of embracing warmth. The more time spent digging into Souvenir, and their first activity since the Covid pandemic reveals there are pockets of emotions being aired (even if it is in the third person) among the wry humour, and the not always easy to fathom absurdist imagery. It does, however, encourage closer listening and exert intrigue. This is helped by Frobos’ surprising warm glow – on the edge of talking – vocal tones. Where the band hit the jackpot though is bringing on board Automatic singer Izzy Glaudini to provide duet duties on the earworm grower ‘Plastic Pyramid’ – ‘’are you deflated baby? Not going to lie I feel pretty small.”
There are many admiring guitar parts across the album’s eleven tracks as Broyle plucks melodic lines from his spiky precise playing. While Frobos’ bass lines flits between blending in and taking a more centre stage especially on another highlight ‘Common Mistake.’ Yet, it is debutant Yonker’s excellent drumming which holds the key here for being able to weld it altogether and push the songs forwards. This, in turn, galvanises satisfying grooves for the occasional participation of head nodding.
Sun Of Nothing are a band that take their time building up a body of work before each release. Not only has this lead to an admirable legacy of longevity, (they’ve been hammering crowds since 1999) but also a density in their work that others just can’t help but commend. The new record Maze is another excellent demonstration of this, the last album The Guilt of Feeling Alive, was released a measly 14 years ago, and despite upheavals in their home country of Greece, as well as some lineup changes they have managed to get this massive slime encrusted slab of maddening post-metal of otherworldly origins out for their voracious listeners.
Maze starts as it means to go on, the first track ‘Liars in Wait’ immediately hits with a melancholy dirge, that is so imbued with energy you might mistake it for eldritch witchcraft. The drums are technical yet clear, whilst the bass provides a pleasing thump throughout, the low end in particular suited to the slightly lo-fi tone the album seems to be going for. Over the top of all this is the wailing of a man locked away for a hundred years, left to his own saddening manic thoughts, driven gradually insane from the isolated atmosphere this album conjures.
Barren Womb’s day planner has three items: 1) get plasterrrred [sic], 2) wipe the shit out of their third eye, and 3) become a disaster. They already sound plasterrrred; during Chemical Tardigrade, they wipe that shit out; and, unfortunately for their to-do list, they create a fantastic noise album. Two out of three ain’t bad.
Noise, yes, but this is not a pure noise record. First of all, different label; second, their twelve years of touring and releasing music under the name Barren Womb (besides former projects and current side projects) have refined their minimalist sound to create music that never compromises and always engages. From riffs to grooves to hints of melody, Chemical Tardigrade will have listeners slam-dancing to the subtle strains of ‘High Fructose Napalm Syrup’. (Can too much high fructose napalm syrup cause Napalm Death?)
Barren Womb have always had a nihilistic streak running through their music, from their deranged vocals to their clever and often illogical titles. ‘McLembas’ starts the album, smashing together the United States’ most prominent fast-food chain with the delectable, nutritious sustenance from the elves of Lord of the Rings universe. One logical example of a clever title is ‘D-Beatles’: a punky, (yes, D-beat-y) track about The Beatles. They’re sixty years late to the debate, but they make their point unashamedly: “Don’t gimme shelter, gimme helter skelter… I’d rather listen to D-Beatles!” It’s the second-best Beatles pun, after Leftfield Studios’ ‘Meet The Beatless’ parody (sorry Ringo).
Long time fans of Ihsahn know that, above all else, he is a creature of consistent habits. For the better part of his career he’s consistently released new material every few years, never making the same album twice, dipping his black metal soaked soul into various progressive and avant-garde territories since the his solo career blossomed near twenty years ago. Its now been close to six years since the release of 2018’s Ámr, the longest release gap of Ihsahn’s career. It is no surprise that after such a lengthy wait that self titled duology Ihsahn may very well be the most grandiose and ambitious work of the black metal auteur’s career.
Presented in the form of two separate but intrinsically linked albums; the orchestral blackened progressive metal of Ihsahn proper or the fully realised and developed orchestral compositions, choice is up to the listener. Whichever version you choose to start with, the beginning is the same either way; the playful, grandiose and theatrical orchestral introduction of “Cervus Venator”. Bright inspiring horns shine atop glacial and dramatic strings swelling, introducing one of several motifs revisited repeatedly across the album and introducing elements of mystery, suspense or even turmoil.
An artist who needs no introduction, Laura Jane Grace, has had more impact on modern punk culture than almost anyone else. Since her band Against Me! last released an album in 2016, Grace has kept busy, writing a bestselling book with journalist Dan Ozzi and releasing two full length albums and an EP. Her latest album Hole In My Head takes everything she’s learned from more than two decades of the punk-rock lifestyle and deconstructs them into something entirely fresh and new.
Grace’s other recent solo efforts, 2020’s Stay Alive and 2021’s At War With The Silverfish were both the result of Covid-19 era sparks of inspiration, written to keep the anxiety and boredom of the pandemic at bay. Despite the pretty drastic sonic changes from her work with Against Me! both received plenty of praise, stripping back the sound fans were used to hearing from Grace, leaving her warm, scratchy voice and lo-fi acoustic guitar backed only by the occasional drum machine or bass. Hole In My Head retains a lot of the minimalist charm of these previous solo works while cleaning up the production and experimenting with a retro, roots-rock inspired sound with tracks like ‘I’m Not A Cop’ and ‘Punk Rock In Basements’ bringing fun, upbeat rhythms while ‘Dysphoria Hoodie’ and ‘Give Up The Ghost’ lean far more heavily into the bare-bones singer-songwriter vibes.
