Posts Tagged ‘Third Of Never’

343 Collective / Broken Soundtracks / Jam Recordings –15th October 2023

The arrived of this album piqued my curiosity for a number of reasons, and one of the first things I felt compelled to do was unravel, or at least understand, the context of the title, since it seems to connote being the music which accompanies a movies. On my journey, I discovered that in film, a score is, at least according to Masterclass.com, ‘the specific musical piece or incidental music that accompanies a scene or moment in the film, and a soundtrack is the compilation of songs and sounds that comprise all of the film’s music. Scores are usually created by one or more composers, while soundtracks typically feature songs by different bands, artists, or musicians.’

But equally, a score is notation, usually in manuscript or printed form, of a musical work, believed to derived from the vertical scoring lines that connect successive related staves.

This album is neither notation nor featured as part of any movie – at least, not one that’s been produced yet.

The ensemble founded by Jon Dawson, and John Bundrick as a side project to Third of Never has expanded considerably, now standing as a six-piece, with this outing features additional contributions from Rabbit (The Who), Steve Kilbey (The Church) and Doug McMillan (The Connells), and was recorded alongside the forthcoming Third of Never album.

They describe the album as ‘a lysergic mood journey of epic proportions’, and advise that it be listened to ‘all at once, in the dark, accompanied by someone you trust, and a lava lamp.’ Well, it being a wet night at the end of September, it’s been dark since before 8pm. I’m alone in my office, and in the absence of a lava lamp, I have a couple of candles lit, and as such, my listening experience and ultimately my review are in the spirit of the album and its intentions – penned in a single sitting, straight through, no pauses, no rewinds, no munching popcorn. Just the quiet sipping of an Islay single malt.

To describe it as ‘epic’ isn’t hyperbole, but a statement of fact: the scope and impact of Original Score is vast. There’s no delicate, slow-building introduction: ‘Attention’ says a voice urgently but dryly, before a sound-collage begins to layer up before our very ears, and that rapidly evolves into a space-age jazz workout with rolling piano and hectic drums driving through fluttering cut-ins and cut-outs, and everything’s happening at once, for a time pinned together by a crunking, choppy bass before ethereal voices float in a chorus of reverb to carry it all away. Done differently, it could be a chaotic disaster, but it’s more Burroughs than Beefheart, and in filmic terms feels like the accompaniment to a three-way-split screen with rapid intersections and scene changes across all three.

Perhaps it’s the power of suggestion, or the potency of the whisky, but Original Score does feels like a very visual audio.

Because of the fact the eleven pieces are segued to form one continuous work, if you’re not actually looking at the CD display, there’s no way of really knowing when one ends and the next begins: because the individual tracks aren’t linear or overtly structured, the transitions between them are seamless.

There are some uplifting, light-hearted passages, and some incredibly dark, almost spooky ones, as haunting voices float hither and thither over wailing guitar feedback, undulating organ notes, and ponderous bass, fractured, treated vocals adding to the unsettling disorientation.

There’s a strongly proggy space-rock vibe, and the quavering keys and strolling bass segments lean heavily towards that seventies sound. I’m not well enough versed to differentiate Yes from King Crimson, but these are the touchstones that spring to mind, melted into Hawkwind wigouts. At times, the images it conjures are of spinning through space, hurtling headlong into the void; others, simply of a band on a massive stage with a drummer and three percussionists, multiple keyboardists with tassled sleeves delivering fifteen-minute solos to a Woodstock-sized crowd, with bearded guys in flares utterly losing their shit. It may be all of this and more, or none of these things when it comes to your own experience.

And this is, undoubtedly, the beauty – and artistic success – of Original Score. It’s the real-time unravelling soundtrack to the movie that you picture in your mind’s eye.

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Jam Records/343Records

Christopher Nosnibor

Misophonia is the third solo outing for Third Of Never guitarist/founder Jon Dawson, and it’s certainly quite a departure from his main musical vehicle. Instead of mining a seem of driving rock with clear ‘classic’ roots in the vintage greats, Misophonia is an exercise in dreamy floaty, droney electronica, punctuated with some magnificently mellow, understated guitar work.

Everything is drenched in infinite reverb, and has an aura of ethereal otherness and distance. On ‘Lighter Fluid’, a child’s voice cries out amidst crunches and crackles of static, while ‘Coffee From a Stranger’ is a sliver of whimsical country slide that chimes and tinkles and fades in and out of focus. There are dark undertones and dank rumblings to be found on ‘David Lynch Owes Me Money’ as well as distant instrumentation and a rising tension.

Birdsong, glitches and extranea feature heavily across the album’s fifteen short segments which segue into one another to form a near-continuous abstract drift, and the story behind the album’s development during the recording of Third of Never’s last album, Austerity, as told by Dawson himself, is interesting and useful in proving some context:

“I started the Misophonia project during the sessions for the Third Of Never album Austerity, which turned out to be a real bruiser,” Dawson said. “As a way to cleanse the palette between sessions, I started scoring the events of the day using drones, soundscapes, and piano. Listening back to it now, it seems as if the proceedings had taken a tense tone.”

It resonates: while taking isolated walks, like many, I have noticed birdsong more. Perhaps not because there are more birds or more songs, but because the roar of traffic and planes and general noise is diminished. Then, against the backdrop of such quiet, distant engines and other sounds stand out more. I’ve heard fewer sirens, but suspect that’s because ambulances and other emergency vehicles have no traffic to clear, not because of a lack of emergencies. Context counts, and it makes sense to clear the mind with something completely unstructured and soft while bashing out hefty riffs by way of a dayjob.

‘Someone is Walking Toward the House’ is filmic, but also captivatingly haunting, as a picked guitar motif drifts across a low-end grumble, while the final piece, ‘The Age of Anxiety’ pins a rarefied atmosphere to a sad, lonely piano that echoes into emptiness. And it hits home: we are all there, surrounded by nothing, just sound in space and we cling to whatever we can. This is indeed not only the age of anxiety, but the specific point where life threatens to overwhelm us.

What Misophonia offers is the opportunity to step back, reflect, and create much-needed mental space.

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