Cruel Nature Recordings – 24th November 2023
Christopher Nosnibor
The brief accompanying biography tells us that ‘Look To The North is the ‘dronefolk’ duo comprising David Colohan (United Bible Studies, Raising Holy Sparks) and Zachary Corsa (Nonconnah, Lost Trail)’, and that ‘Recorded in 2021, A Shadow Homeland is 4 tracks of atmospheric other-worldly introspection; melancholic ambience interspersed with sparse piano, spoken word and field-recordings, creating an immersive transcendental twilit experience.
We’re immediately in with what initially sounds like some form of narrative, and joining as we do seemingly in the middle of it, it’s difficult to orientate oneself in terms of context. Soon, soft droning tones drift in like mist and rings out heraldic over the hills and draping the woodlands with string-like sounds amidst images of clouds and nature, interlaced with spiritual abstractions rich in poeticism, but their meanings obscure. The title of this first composition, ‘Disintegrating Consoles And Cartridges’, has a ‘found sound’ connotation, a suggestion of decaying histories and lost origins, and in time, distant voices mutter almost imperceptibly while piano notes roll in and out. Increasingly I find sparse piano notes which are allowed to resonate conjure the saddest and most bereft of emotional sensations, and by the end of eight minutes, I find myself feeling empty, heavy of heart, and pining for something lost – something I can’t quite recall beyond a vague sensation, like the occasional pang of pining for childhood or people and places left long behind, the melancholia of hazy reminiscences which creep at the fringes of a fugue-like memory.
‘The Water That Shattered Their Image’ feels darker at the start, Not necessarily ominous, but there are grainy textures scratching lower in the layers of sound, elongated whisps and broad sonic washes, and they bring a certain discordance and discomfiture. Human voices mingle into wolf-like howls, baying, crazed, before growing hushed, as if in anticipation of the album’s dominating finale, the seventeen-and-a-half-minute ‘An Amulet For The Flux Of Blood’. Here, the piano is very much the central instrument, but surrounded by layers of organ and organic-sounding drones. These sounds coalesce to create a haunting yet smoothly tranquil atmosphere.
To suggest that it seems to share more in common with post-rock than any form of folk is perhaps to pick pedantically at irrelevant details, but I mention this because these genre distinctions have a tendency to set certain expectations. But as elegiac pastoral works, infused with subtle elements of collaging and experimentation, the pieces which make up A Shadow Homeland certainly don’t disappoint, and indeed, confound any expectations one may have. Mood-wise, I’m left feeling uncertain; neither uplifted now downcast, but somewhere in a strange place and a sensation of something missing. It’s neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but remarkable that such understated instrumental works can resonate in such a deep and complex way.
AA
Aural Aggravation 