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'Post-rock', the art of rock instrumentation without traditional
chords and song structure, has been around for long enough now for
many of the genre's long established names to have either stagnated
or called it quits. Thankfully though, Somerset's reclusive
ambient-rockers Blueneck look set to triumph as benefactors in a new
generation of post-rock bands inspired by the likes of krautrock,
ambient minimalism, shoegaze and the genre's stable-yard Canadian
based Constellation Records roster.
Like any band with a promising debut under their belts, Blueneck
have been in the unenviable position of being expected to deliver a
suitable follow-up that doesn't disappoint. In today's fickle world
of short shelf-life expectancy, that usually means quickly! It's a
make-or-break point during any hotly-tipped new band's career where
many young hopefuls, precariously placed on a pedistal as
saviours-in-waiting, simply crack under the pressure of delivering
that career-assuring second album before the hype recedes.
Thankfully, Blueneck haven't succumbed to the dizzy rules of record
industry manipulation. Against the giddiness of commercial
marketeering, Blueneck work to their own rules. Artists who create
their own path such as Blueneck need our patience - they need time
to lock themselves away, to distance themselves from the fashion
police and to develop behind closed doors at their own pace,
reconvening with the outside world only when they're done. Like a
good malt whisky, open the barrel too soon, and you'll cheapen the
brew.
Delivering that all important second album isn't such a bad position
to be in if you're allowed the opportunity, as so few freshly signed
bands are these days, to do it at your own pace. Having secured a
fan base with an auspicious debut, creativity can be further
motivated in the knowledge that you aren't just making music for
your own amusement.
On the surface, 'The Fallen Host' may not be too dissimilar from
it's predecessor in musical direction. Listen closer though, and
you'll discover that the studio techniques learnt from earlier
recordings have been skillfully fine-tuned, paying close attention
to the not-so-obvious subtleties. It's easy to make music on a
laptop these days, but Blueneck's rigorous refining of atmospheric
nuances requires time as well as vision. It's what sets Brian Eno
apart from the legions of wannabe copyists who followed in his wake.
You simply don't make music as richly textured as this overnight
with a cracked copy of garageband.
So, if 'Scars Of The Mid-West' set the template, it's successor has
refined the recipe. One big difference though, is the emotive
presence of stringed instruments, namely violin and cello, deftly
bobbing in and out of the mix throughout the album, adding a touch
of grace and elegance to an otherwise technically driven soundscape.
As the opening track 'Depart From Me, You Who Are Cursed' gently
fades in, we can at last, rest easy, reassured that Blueneck have
indeed delivered exactly what their fans were hoping for - a
tearful, melancholic, yet somehow uplifting return journey into the
bowels of human fallibility. As the opening theme morphs into the
second track 'Seven', we realise that we are not just being offered
a selection box of neatly trimmed stand-alone tracks, but instead,
the listener is presented with a concept that stands as a single
entity to be indulged in from beginning to end.
Dense, ethereal layers of ambient textures, soaring guitar, analogue
synths and loops mark the centre of gravity, and not until track
four - 'The Guest' do celestial, semi-whispered vocals make an
appearance, adding a reminder that these soaring dynamics are, for
all their languidness, still of man-made origin. Further on
'Children of Ammon' rests nervously on a single quivering drone of
sinister Moog synth, hovering menacingly above an unforgiving arid
plateau like some terrifying giant insect, suspended airborne and
poised to bite at any moment, leaving the listener with an
unsettling sense of numbness and fear. Slowly, the tension recedes,
gently giving way to the more settling silence of 'Weaving Spiders
Come Not Here'. Here, a lone piano chimes with dramatic effect,
piercing the eerie silent backdrop with cruel ferocity. It reminds
us that even a single ivory key can, without compromise, pack a
cruel hard punch.
We know the post-rock formula well enough by now Dear Reader - yes,
we're at the eye of the storm. It's the calm before the cresendo,
but it wouldn't be right any other way. The most contemporary
song-like composition here, 'Lilitu' allows the soft, chilling
vocals to return in their hushed langourous ambiguity, adding a
voice-as-an-instrument melody to an otherwise android musical
landscape. But, in a cruel twist of fate to any listener
supposition, a rich deep throated cello interjects, breathing a dark
chasm of bass onto an atmosphere of soft treated loops and minimal
percussion reminiscent of DJ Shadow or Bjork. The final cut
'Revelations' brings us to the inevitable soaring climax where
towering layers of droning guitar, underpinned by mammoth drums,
unleash a terrifying avalanche-of-noise like the cannibalistic
rattling of skulls on William Golding's putrid pole of death.
In addition to their acute attention to musical detail, Blueneck
also pay equally close attention to their artwork, believing as I do
myself, that music is an artform that deserves it's artefacts. So,
as well as the usual CD and download formats released in Europe on
November 13th and the UK on February 1st, 'The Fallen Host' is also
released in limited numbers as double 10" vinyl picture discs. Wow!
Personally speaking, I know the band members well enough to be
certain that they'd prefer Jack Daniels to the aforementioned slowly
matured malt whisky, but all the same, 'The Fallen Host' is living
proof that all good things come to those who wait.
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