Plant-based metal avant-gardists BOTANIST have seeded the new track ‘Epidendrum Nocturnum’, which is named after a ‘nocturnal’ species of the orchid family (common to South Florida but also growing in the Caribbean and all the way down to Brasil), as the second single taken from their forthcoming album VIII: Selenotrope. The album is planted for blooming on May 19, 2023.
Listen here:
BOTANIST comment: “For VIII: Selenotrope, I wanted to limit myself to only dulcimers, drums, bass and voice”, mastermind Otrebor explains. “For the voice, I decided to have an album without any screams or harsh vocals whatsoever, and instead to rely on the whispers that speak to the listener as messages in a dreamlike state. As the album progresses, melodic choirs are increasingly introduced. These choirs, which have progressed in form and presence since I started Botanist, see their biggest role ever on VIII: Selenotrope. The song ‘Epidendrum Nocturnum’ is one of the album’s darker pieces. Its churning main section gives way to a cathartic landscape in which whispered elements underpin melodic choral paeans to flora that bloom in moonlight.”
Plant-based metal avant-gardists BOTANIST have planted the new track ‘Angel’s Tumpet’, named after the highly toxic and hallucinogenic nightshade shrub as the first single taken from their forthcoming album VIII: Selenotrope, which has been sowed now in order to bloom on the release date May 19, 2023.
Listen to ‘Angel’s Trumpet’ here:
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BOTANIST comment: “The notion of a ‘Selenotrope’, a plant that only blooms in moonlight, was in the mental vault since 2016, as were the drums that I had recorded for when the day came”, mastermind Otrebor writes. "The added solitude of the lockdown, in addition to the solitude that I normally prefer, was the conduit to entering this new place in the Verdant Realm. After I completed tracking, I sent the session to Dan Swanö, with whom I had already loved working for the Photosynthesis album. Dan felt that ‘Angel’s Trumpet’ was the album’s banger. So here it is to introduce you to the nocturnal floral world of VIII: Selenotrope.
Time marches on, and here we are almost midway through December still catching up with November releases, this time with Polish ‘dark rock’ duo Shrine Of Reflection.
There’s a great temptation to split hairs and that argue that surely the dark rock tag is goths pretending not to be goth, but that would be unjust, as this six-and-a-half-minute sonic adventure is more post-rock than anything, but there are also hints of prog and bleak neofolk vibes emanating from the murky tones, where a sparse, spindly lead line drifts over a slow, deliberate thunder-like beat that plods away like a heavy heart, before it blossoms into colour at the midpoint into an expansive, cinematic sweep.
The blurbage summarises that “‘Child Of The World’ is a song inspired by the movie, Interstellar. It’s about the misery of a human being who is trapped on planet Earth and who is unable to discover the truth of the universe’s nature despite the fact of being its child. All this person can do is just simply stare at the sky and dream.”
That sense of entrapment is relatable, but more than this, the vocals become increasingly cracked and desperate as the song progresses, before the slow-building crescendo takes over, finally tapering off into muffled samples that leave you looking into the emptiness, and wondering.
Allen Epley (Shiner, The Life and Times) has released ‘Evangeline’ the next single off his upcoming debut solo album ‘Everything,’ out 6th January 2023 on Spartan Records.
Listen here:
Epley says, “’Evangeline’ is a reference to someone close to me who tends to bottle up emotions until another person says something quite innocently, and it triggers an often hateful and explosive response. So the smallest innuendo or slight from a passerby could set off cannons and flamethrowers from this person. The offense doesn’t merit the response many times, inflicting even more damage.
I wanted it to be a short song and get to the point pretty quick. Don’t bore us, get to the chorus. Agreed. Vocally, I feel like the chorus part in particular reflects a kind of Elliott Smith vibe. Mike Burns adds the beautiful lap steel line that perfectly echoes the hurt in the lyric. Drummer Chris Prescott (from Pinback) sets the song in a restrained way then lets it open up on the solo section.”
It’s been almost three years since Paul K delivered Reconstructed Memories. Listening to The Space Between, it becomes apparent why. Pandemic or nay, this is an ambitious and complex album which sees Paul return to the territory explored on 2018’sThe Fermi Paradox and go the whole hog on devising and scoring a vast conceptual progressive work that’s heavily invested in narrative as it traces what he outlines as being a story ‘about an astronaut who has volunteered for a one way journey through space to pass through the Heliopause and is set maybe 30/50 years in the future.’
Space is both the backdrop and the story, in many ways, and the fascination it holds is something that transcends words or even rational explanation. Perhaps the fact that the sheer enormity and infiniteness of space is beyond our comprehension is a major factor in our space obsession. And however far and deep we probe, I suspect we will never truly be capable of assimilating the universe, especially as we, as a species, struggle to comprehend that we do not exist at its centre.
In classic sci-fi form and echoing 2001: A Space Odyssey, the concept behind the story is that the astronaut’s sole companion is an AI robot that becomes sentient during the journey, before the astronaut eventually dies and the robot continues the journey alone.
As Paul explains, ‘Each track plots the journey from liftoff looking back at the Earth (True Splendour) to the debilitating effect of years alone in space (Pareidolia) and is also related to the love and loss the astronaut has felt in his life’.
Understatement is the album’s defining feature. While it is unquestionably ambitious and incorporates cinematic arrangements, and notably choral-sounding vocals, the instrumentation is subtle and layered.
‘True Splendour’ makes for a gentle introduction and very much sets the tone. The Space Between keeps the drama and pomp to a minimum, and instead, the mood is contemplative, almost subdued, as strolling basslines wander sedately through soft washes of sound. Percussion is minimal, and low in the mix.
‘Sleep Within’ is perhaps the album’s most conventional ‘rock’ composition, but there’s a subdued, soporific overlay to its mid-pace melodic drift, although the reflective, wistful ‘Spektr’ has a certain solidity to it. In contrast, ‘Artifact’, the point at which the AI assumes autonomy, is almost vaporous, a soft piano reverberating among wispy sonic contrails.
The Space Between is an album that functions on numerous levels simultaneously, although they’re not all necessarily obvious. But it’s not imperative to follow the narrative to appreciate the detail; the album works in a way that not only creates space, but conveys space, the eternal distance, the vast emptiness… we are all lost and floating. But some are more lost than others. Welcome to The Space Between.
Fucking hell, we really are running out of names, aren’t we? To the point where even otherwise memorable bands are forgettable because of their ultra-generic name. And some acts sink without a trace because they’re simply impossible to even find through an Internet search. Actor is an obvious example for me, but then we’ve recently had Loungewear grace these virtual pages, and now bloody Tracksuit. How would The The or The Police have faired in the Internet age, I wonder? I mean, stepping aside from the fact their music is tedious and people would probably skip their songs faster than ever now. But it seems like bands aren’t even trying now: Sports Team? Two very different acts operating as Working Men’s Club? Are they trying to bury themselves before their careers have even begun, or do they simply have no imagination and no concept of how The Internet works? Or have we simply reached the apogee of postmodernism, the point at which truly everything has been done, there is no ‘new’, only regurgitations and rehashing, and culture has reached its inevitable dead-end?
It’s a shame Tracksuit have doubly done themselves a disservice with a moniker that’s not only super-generic but also a bit shite, especially as it really doesn’t reflect what they’re about at all. It’s a shame because ‘Ghost of Rome’ is decent. It’s not some lame rappy shite or laid-back bedroomy r ‘n’ b: it’s fundamentally a stripped-back psychedelic rock tune with a keen sense off dynamic and a palpable energy, meaning there’s a lot to like as they dig in with a lively and buoyant bass groove that’s got action and detail. It’s got a heavy 70s vibe about it and it kicks ass – but probably doesn’t need anymore cowbell, because everything is just right.
The immense success of Psychonaut’s Pelagic debut album Unfold The God Man, which has been repressed 3 times throughout the pandemic and sold close to 3.000 vinyl copies to date, has proven that Psychonaut are a force to be reckoned with.
The three gentlemen from Mechelen, Belgium now return with a ferocious and muchly anticipated concept album that proclaims the formation of a new world through the acceptance of a new human identity. “We’ve always been interested in religion, spirituality and philosophy,” explains vocalist/guitarist Stefan de Graef about the music of PSYCHONAUT. “We’ve meditated together, had long discussions about the nature of life, and we share a common vision.”
Now, with the release of their sophomore album Violate Consensus Reality on 28th October (Pelagic Records), the Belgian three-piece take you on a visceral trip into our collective human consciousness. A journey marked by explosive riffs, soaring vocals and intricate yet catchy compositions.
An impressive album which cements PSYCHONAUT’s standing as aspirants to the throne of the contemporary European progressive / post metal community.
“We distance ourselves from a system that is based on the idea that humanity is fundamentally bad and needs protection from itself in the form of a hierarchy,” continues De Graef about PSYCHONAUT’s latest album. “By no longer subscribing to the notion that we are all separate beings in a separate world that is dead and pointless, we embrace the vision of a new civilisation that is rooted in the idea that we are part of a living, sacred universe.” Likening our present state of separation to “an island on oceans grown, designed to bear unpredictable wrath,” the band accompanies their denunciation by punishing riffs and heavily syncopated rhythms, grabbing you by your guts and taking you on a turbulent journey.
Violate Consensus Reality engages the senses in a way that is quite rare for concept albums, it is raw and brutal, unlike the lofty concept albums of yore with their endlessly repeating motifs and needlessly complex song structures. It stands in a long tradition of activism in music, but it also deconstructs this tradition by taking its loud and admonishing tone and providing it with a thoughtful base rooted in philosophy and spirituality.
With music deeply rooted in communal meditation sessions, psychedelic metal outfit Psychonaut are a unique entity in the Belgian metal scene and beyond. The mantric title track of their upcoming second album, which they have now shared, sees the trio once more aligned in body and mind as they appeal to the listener with a 9-minute atmospheric slow burner. Their stature is once more affirmed by Amenra’s Colin H. van Eeckhout, who ushers the track to an unforgettable climax.
Sometime during lockdown – which one, I can’t remember exactly, but likely the first, where here in England what initially looked like being a couple of weeks, ended up being more like a lifetime. After the lockdown announced on 23 March 2020 was extended on 16 April for ‘at least three weeks’ and in fact running into June, the fear surrounding the lifting of restrictions saw references to Stockholm Syndrome circulating with increasing frequency in the media.
Described as ‘a psychological response’ which occurs when hostages or abuse victims bond with their captors or abusers, and the victim may come to sympathize with their captors, and
may even begin to feel as if they share common goals and causes.
The name originates from a failed bank robbery staged in Stockholm in 1973, where Jan-Erik Olsson, and his charismatic accomplice Clark Olofsson held four employees as hostages, remaining captive for six days in one of the bank’s vaults, and when the hostages were released, none of them would testify against either captor in court; instead, they began raising money for their defence.
While the syndrome is disputed, the concept is something of a source of fascination. Personally, I had never been one of those who found themselves ‘loving lockdown life’, but found myself apprehensive about the easing of lockdown: what would be the ‘right’ way to behave in public, how would things ‘work’? I didn’t need to worry about pub and gig etiquette for a while, but was more fearful of other people than I was of Covid – because people are unpredictable, and after being cooped up for so long, who knows how many might have lost it?
Swedish Netflix mini-series Clark is the story of Clark Olofsson, and while it’s won awards, I found its stylised and flippant comedy-drama approach to be pretty ‘meh’. There’s vague amusement to be had, but ultimately – and for obvious reasons – presents Olofsson as ‘cool’, a cheeky bad boy out for But then, just because it’s not what I would have wanted it to be doesn’t mean it’s no good, it’s just not my bag.
While there are some bold intercuts of ‘proper’ songs featured, it’s not a series where you find yourself really paying attention to the soundtrack for the majority of the time. Listening to the soundtrack independent of the series, it’s a mystery as to why this is.
Of course, much of the interest in the soundtrack will be the fact that it was scored by Mikael Åkerfeldt of progressive metal legends Opeth – and as much as this score is overtly cinematic, it draws equally on progressive rock, funk, laid-back jazz, and 70s cop shows. The last nine of the thirty-four tracks feature vocals, and this portion of the album feels separate again, and may have worked as a separate release or bonus CD or something, as it’s quite a leap. Hell, ‘Måndag I Stockholm’ goes full Sabbath. Incongruous is an understatement and it’s hard to know what to make of it all. Then again… why not?
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Varied, engaging and evocative, it’s imaginative and listenable and entertaining – and a lot less frustrating than the series itself.
Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More is such a quintessentially post-rock album title: without hearing a note, it evokes the spirit of 2003-2006 or thereabouts. On listening, it’s perhaps not as overtly post-rock as all that – it’s not a slow-building crescendo-fest with chiming guitars like Explosions in the Sky or even lesser-known acts like And So I Watch You From Afar, but with ties to legends in the field, it is every inch of that milieu, with ‘the cello of Rebecca Foon (Saltland, Set Fire To Flames, Silver Mt Zion) and the marimba of ex-Godspeed You! Black Emperor percussionist Bruce Cawdron at its core’.
It’s been a full five years since their last album, 2017’s Mechanics of Dominion, and during this time the Montreal-based collective have been doing what, it seems, the Montreal post-rock scene does best – detaching themselves from the world and conjuring magnificent, magical soundscapes that offer a conduit to planes of pure escapism.
Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More presents a rich sonic tapestry that incorporates a broad range of elements. The press released makes mention of ‘emotive chamber works using threads of post-classical, post-rock, Minimalism, neo-Baroque, jazz, pop and a wide array of folk traditions’ as being Esmerine’s palette.
‘Blackout’ opens the album with a soft, elegant piano draped with brooding strings that’s graceful, subtly emotive, and easy on the ear. ‘Entropy: Incantation – Radiance – The Wild Sea’, the first of the two-part ‘Entropy’ suite is a nine-minute journey through atmospheric ambience, where one treads with trepidation, uncertain of what may be hidden in the shadows. There’s an aura of ancient mysticism that echoes before eventually, the track refocuses toward a driving prog rock finale.
The beauty and joy of such a work is that while there are undoubtedly inspirations and emotions poured into the compositions, such wide spaces without words offer the listener a vessel into which to empty their own experiences and interpretations, and as such, a piece like the seven-minute ‘Imaginary Pasts’ with its lilting piano, roiling drums, and textured guitar work which trips out into hazy space offers so much scope for the listener to invest and reflect upon their own imaginary pasts. Such invitations to meditate on life and to journey into inner space are extremely welcome when life is so relentless.
Despite the title seemingly alluding to a sense of nostalgia, Everything Was Forever feels more like a work that creates its own space in time, rather than reflecting on a time past. Three of the four final tracks are under three minutes each in length, and as such, are almost dream-like fragments, and the listener finds themselves wandering through chiming bells and rippling notes that dapple like sunlight through trees in a breeze on ‘Wakesleep’, before ‘Number Stations’ guides the way not towards the light, but through a murky sonic swamp or eerie echoes before taking its final magnificent form, and reminds us that, ultimately, nothing is forever, and everything is just a fleeting moment in the scheme of eternity.
French Progressive metal collective Tranzat have just revealed a music video for a new song from their third album Ouh La La, which was released last month Klonosphere Records.
Formed in 2015 in Brest, France, for reasons beyond comprehension, Tranzat self-produced their first two records, 2016’s Hellish Psychedelia and 2018’s The Great Disaster, this one with the support of Black Desert Records.
The group—Manuel Liegard (guitar/vocals), Nicolas Galakhoff (bass), Benjamin Arbellot (guitar), and Thomas Coïc (drums) have opened for international bands such as Kadavar, Shining (NO), Mos Generator and Mass Hysteria, and have toured with Angelus Apatrida on the French Motocultor Night Fever Tour.
The band’s new album Ouh La La was recorded at The Apiary studio (Birds in Row, Plebeian Grandstand), and boldly explores genres, subgenres, and subgenres of subgenres to offer up honest, eclectic, unpredictable and playful music that will appeal to fans of Faith No More, Devin Townsend, Mastodon, and Dillinger Escape Plan.
Aural Aggravation 