Showing posts with label progressive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label progressive. Show all posts

Monday, September 17, 2012

Diablo Swing Orchestra - Pandora's Piñata



Pandora's Piñata has been one of the most difficult albums that I’ve ever had to review. On one hand, I could simply say, ‘You just have to sit down and listen.’ But, that doesn’t do this record any justice. There aren’t enough words to describe the album, but then again, sometimes less is better. Conundrum. Pandora's Piñata is a God damn conundrum. But in all the good ways.

Diablo Swing Orchestra is a band that, intentionally or unintentionally, challenges their listeners. Not in that over-your-head, too-smart-for-their-own-good kind of way that a lot of prog-rock bands will do, but more in that this Swedish outfit effortlessly incorporates sonic delights without it ever feeling forced. The listeners challenge is simply that we sit back and think, ‘How in God’s name did they think of doing that?’ or ‘Why on earth did they do that and how is it possible that it didn’t derail the entire song?’ 

Few bands can seamlessly fuse elements of swing jazz, Latin jazz, classical, heavy metal, noise, a little electronic, and house it all under big top carnival tent. Numerous, almost unrelated stylistic sounds into it and never sounds forced. Diablo Swing Orchestra can and do, and they keep the music heavily emotional, albeit with a little air of Tim Burton goth throughout. In short, Pandora's Piñata is brilliant. In long? How much time have you got? 

From the opening snap of the drums on “Voodoo Mon Amour” to the fading electro-techno drone of the album closer, “Justice For Saint Mary”, Diablo Swing Orchestra satisfy the listening (and dancing) audience with a thrill-a-minute joy ride of musical excesses. The lead track offers up a tremendous burst of trumpet led swing jazz followed up by thunderous and rhythmic heavy metal, and all sung with a juxtaposed female swing and male haunted gothic-ness. The entire track is littered with chaotic ear candy (huh . . . just got it. Pandora's Piñata. Break open the piñata and get all the candy you can consume), such as cello’s, a variety of brass, and drums that are brimming with character.

The band injects a ton of Latin rhythms and brass textures with “Guerilla Laments”, and simply gets this music fan shaking his ass. This song is an amazing groove laden beast, and made constantly compelling with the vocal harmonies. The breakdown near the three minute mark instantly teleports the listen to street party held in a Central American Zócalo, complete with colorful Spanish regalia, string hung lanterns, the smell of pollo, carnitas and carne asada permeating the early evening air. It’s a party we should all be at . . . passing a jug of tequila around the square as we dance our feet bloody!

Things turn suddenly dark and violent with “Kevlar Sweethearts” and things come to a head on “Exit Strategy Of A Wrecking Ball” (quite possibly one of the coolest song titles ever). The drums on the latter track are stunning! Hell . . . the pure dynamics on this track are enough to write a 400-page Manifesto! The tune opens with a maelstrom of heavy metal riffagery that creates images of breaking shit, and while this is all going on, the band manages to incorporate violins into the mix to make everything sound (if possible) even more menacing. Oh . . . they’re not done with mixing shit up . . . then the electronics and horns drop in the create a wondrous background for the vocal talents of Daniel Håkansson to shine. The song rolls all over the damn place, drifting to the serene then back to the utterly dark and violent. The turning point on this track is from the four minute mark on . . . full on serenity with this uneasy tension slowly building, and then Håkansson seems to lose his fuckin’ mind and everything explodes! Absolutely fantastic execution of build and release of tension in music . . . seriously, these guys should teach a class on the subject.

To show that the band isn’t all violence and hard rhythms all the time, they deliver “Aurora” and “Honey Trap Aftermath”. The former sounding like a soundtrack from a Disney Fantasy scene, the latter a smooth, white-boy funk track. The vocals emit that sex appeal, but with an underlying sinister quality. Once I hear the chorus, it’s stuck with me for the rest of the day . . . full on ear candy . . . and delicious! 

The album wraps up with two tracks that bring all of the chaos back to the forefront. “Of Kali Ma Calibre” is an epic journey led by the vocal performance of Annlouice Loegdlund that shifts from a marching beat to a thunderous metallic beat down. Of further note, the drumming on this track is furious and emotional and frenzied and, most of all, just a goddamn good listen! The album closer is a progressive gem . . . “Justice For Saint Mary” might be my favorite individual track on the album simply because of the its sprawling elegance, its diverse moods, and dynamic shifts. The performances of the all of the musicians involved is above stellar, no one overplaying their part and everyone working in unity towards the completion of a brilliant song. 

Pandora's Piñata is right up there at the top of my Album’s of the Year. No question. It’s an album that I can’t stop listening to (hence the delay in writing this review) and one that I don’t want to stop listening to. I listen to this album so much that I almost feel guilty that I’m not paying attention to some of the other fantastic releases in my collection. Hey . . . it’s not an album for everybody coz’ not everyone gets the operatic vocals and the horns mixed with heavy metal, or the tempo changes, or the weirdness that is Diablo Swing Orchestra. That’s fine. I can live with that, but y’all should at least take a moment to listen to the album, turn off any preconceived notion that music has to be kept in a box, and enjoy the bombast. 

That’s enough from me . . . I gotta’ go find an affordable copy of the vinyl edition. I have serious work to do!

Pope





Saturday, February 26, 2011

Nucleus Torn - Travellers and Andromeda Awaiting


Travellers

Early morning mist lingers over the calm oceans as we push our handmade wooden boat into the icy depths. We softly drag our oars through the placid aquatic field, pushing the water and the land behind us. We leave our homeland knowing full well that we may never see her again, that the families we leave behind may never lay eyes, lips, flesh to their husbands, brothers, and fathers again. Yet we steer our craft through the vast seas in search of trade partners in our material goods and our cultural ideas, and we are at peace with our decision to leave the comforts of home firmly nestled amongst the bosom of our Earth Mother. If we return to these shores, then it was meant to be.

I have no idea if that imagery was the intention of Nucleus Torn when they crafted the four-part acoustic epic “Krähenkönigin I – IV”, but that’s the feeling I got as I sat back in my office spinning the first part of the Travellers album. I’ve come to find out that the song title roughly translates to “Crows Queen” in English. The songs are seamlessly strung together and come across as if they were treatments or exercises for the classical guitar, and then they got morphed into a romantic acoustic instrumental piece of music. Coming from Prophecy Productions, I somewhat expected Travellers to be on the ambient side of the musical spectrum, but I also expected it to dip a big, gnarled ugly toe into the miasma of black metal. Those tendencies arise, but for the most part, this album is sparse of superfluous sounds and instrumentation. Amazingly, I never find the music of the first four songs tedious or boring . . . in actuality; I’ve often found myself leaning forward, on the edge of my chair waiting for the drama to explode before my ears. Alas, Nucleus Torn never jump all over your face like an enraged monkey, it’s more like they infuse tons of emotional drama through carefully thought out notes and exquisite tones. One minute, it’s easy to get lost paddling across the great plains of the oceanic landscape, the next minute find yourself trudging through some overgrown hillside, and through it all, you’re embracing nature, feeling the wind blowing across the skin, the sun pulling the moisture from your flesh, the rain dowsing the fires of hope that once roared within you. Bleak, but never depressing.

The opening four-part track is laden with so much imagery and emotion that I can’t help but want to load up my backpack and hike to Bakersfield (it’s not the end of the world, but I hear you can see it from there.) These tracks have more to do with classical and folk music than any black metal that I’ve ever heard, and I’m perfectly fine with that. As Travellers continues on, more hope and uplifting moments creep into the music. “Silver” is a beautiful quasi-classical romantic piece, also played on acoustic guitars . . . sounds like nylon string . . . and in its short, abbreviated manner, ushers us listeners into the next part of the musical journey . . . the darker, electric, and narrated portion of the program! “Witness” is a beautiful track that starts off mellow and somber, acoustic guitars accompany the morose vocals, and then the song ultimately opens up in volume and electric tension. This is a truly fine execution of song craft!

For the most part, Travellers is a Spartan and barren album. But that’s not to say that there isn’t tension built in the songs. It’s more of an organic and natural tension, though . . . made more impressive and imposing by the lack of studio effects. Almost like there’s something inherently spooky about that twisted tree outside your window that you’ve been begging Dad to chop down coz’ it casts those freakish shadows on your wall during a full moon. Rather than chop that sucker down, embrace its natural and creepy beauty, regale in its frightening aspects, and sleep fitfully through the night. Unless you starred in Poltergeist, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.

Buy here: Travellers
Buy here mp3: Travellers

Andromeda Awaiting

After listening to Travellers over and over and over again, I found myself spinning the follow up album, Andromeda Awaiting. This is where things get strange. I was somewhat expecting to hear a continuation of Travellers, and in some way, I guess you could say that’s what I got. But it’s not a continuation in the sense of lack of bombastic emotion, it’s more like a linear continuation . . . where the musical ideas are given more instrumentation, more texture to convey even greater breadth of emotion. Where Travellers is sparse in sound, Andromeda Awaiting is lush in sonic richness.

Broken up into six parts or chapters, Andromeda Awaiting is a strikingly gorgeous record. It gets a little proggy in a symphonic nature, and I find that to be perfectly perfect. The incorporation of the various woodwinds, horns, strings, voices . . . it all builds on top of one another to create a sparkling tower of sonic splendor. As for the underlying meaning of the album . . . no clue. I haven’t the foggiest notion as to what this album is about, and I don’t care. With this particular album, I’ve found myself listening purely for the emotion of sound, not keying in on any lyrics or potentially hidden meaning within the words. Throughout the record, I’ve found myself uplifted; other moments, I’m hunched over preparing myself to weep.

The “bookends” of the album, part I and VI, are the most dramatic, and also the longest portions of the program. Part I clocks in at over fifteen minutes and is like sitting in the cockpit of some interstellar spacecraft as it’s hurtling through the depths of the cosmos. Brilliant lights shows exploding into the visions, streaking stars criss-crossing the crafts path, all of the radiance from the heavenly bodies surrounding us acting as an exclamation as to how insignificantly small the human race truly is. The female vocals leading the first track feel so vulnerable and fragile, ready to crack at the slightest bump . . . and conveying an emotion of sad loneliness. The song weaves through some ethereal passages, ultimately falling into the lap of what I can only describe as choir music without the choir. The male voice that enters the song makes me feel like I’m sitting in a pew during a Catholic mass. It’s gorgeous and engaging, and oddly enough, makes me want to go to church once in awhile. The final chapter of the album is much like the first, sprawling and elegant in its instrumentation, always drawing some emotion from deep within. And sandwiched between these two songs are four tracks that take the listener on a journey that won’t be forgotten. In particular, I’m a big fan of the Middle Eastern modes that these guys use in the latter half of the album . . . every time I hear these tones, these particular scales, I get lost in the romantic world of my minds design.

Pope

Buy here: Andromeda Waiting