Thrill Jockey – 21st June 2024
Christopher Nosnibor
You want epic? Look no further that this. As the press notes set out, ‘Over the course of 4 tracks in 76 minutes, SUMAC presents a sequence of shifting movements which undergo a constant process of expansion, contraction, corruption and regrowth.’
Four tracks. An hour and a quarter. And then we have the context, and the content of ‘the thematic nature of the record – narratives of experiential wounding as gateways to empowerment and evolution, both individual and collective.’
The emotional weight may not be immediately apparent without this context, but the sonic heft crashes down the doors with the opening chord, a low-down, distortion-heavy heave. The dynamic is one of a lumbering lurch rather than a forceful blast, a long, slow spew, a ruined speaker flapping a sigh in devastation. And then the bass grinds in, so slow, so dark, so heavy, like an emptying of the guts – a slow, painful Dysenteric purge. Around six minutes in, drums and vocals enter the mix and the picture – a scene of the most ruinous pain beyond imagination – is complete. ‘World of Light’ is either the most ironic or misleading song title going: it’s twenty-six punishing minutes, with extended passages of droning feedback in between riffs more brutal than crucifixion. This one track alone isn’t only the duration of some albums, but contains everything necessary.
Comparisons are references are easy and abundant, but, equally, futile: The Healer is a singular, monumental work. It would be an oversight to comment only on the brutal, crawling riffs and gut-shredding density when there are passages of haunting elegance and quite touching beauty. Solo guitar ripples and eddies like a small, quiet stream, and there are moments The Healer of calm, of grace. And the consequence – apart from rendering this post-metal – is a strong dynamic, meaning hat the bulldozer blast gave more than double impact when they hit. And hit they do.
During the gut-churning ‘Yellow Dawn’, you feel yourself hollow out, slumping inwardly following a punishing display of power. It’s hard, it, heavy, it hurts. The final track, ‘The Stone’s Turn’, is again twenty-five minutes in duration and it’s a punishing, pulverising sonic assault.
The Healer leaves you feeling hollowed out, sapped, sucked to a husk. It’s also a work of ambitious enormity. Immense doesn’t come close.
Aural Aggravation 