Algiz speeds through a welter of French - and how deep
are the roots of the concept of time in folk music? Flute, guitar;
sudden swelter of bongos. The music moves swiftly - to what end?
I mean that literally. Backworld
effuse through violins about "The Devil's Plaything."
Are folk music and semiotexte two tribes never destined to meet?
Are there inroads in folk music, yet to be explored? Or, are those
inroads in ruins? Der Blutharsch
rain drums and tubular bells upon the earth that excoriates
titles. Bryin Dall states that he is so lonely he could cry, stretching
out the fingers of this mood through guitar and strings. Cyclobe
curve through the strings
and drums bursting into a ringing of telephone and scuttled
voices cutting through the first five minutes after sleep. Darkwood
intone over guitars (whither goeth the number of strings?) and German,
as if something is
indeed waiting in that dark wood - waiting from behind.
Dawn & Dusk Entwined unfurl voices and melding tones and those voices
build - point, counterpoint? Is there a chance to build something
over hours and
months and years - is this the legacy of folk music:
the gradual build? Leutha take their focus - "Wind" - and breathe through
it, into it, around it - or do they mean "Wind"? There is no small
amount of crossings and
movement in the sounds - bellsbecome air and air moves
through cylindres. It trembles into the final seconds, vanishing as nature
becomes time. Nobody's voice rings clear as the bells that succeed it -
fractured blossoms of feedback warble from the sound-sources - and it is
not for nothing that the concept of "longing" is the capstone to the arch
of folk music. Novy Svet rend the proceedings with rude organ and
la la lowing - playing while this Rome burns, like one of the twelve Caesars
- "La Aroma Lola"? ? A hey hey, a hey hey. Ozymandias. Look
for the coming inter view in which it is revealed that his favourite poem
is not, in fact, "Ozymandias". Piano emerges, and slyphs out as gently
as it had come. Pantaleimon study the strings of their guitar as
through a pastoral life, as though a pastoral life. There is a sound behind
them that suggests someplace in the country where someone
let fall an arrow. The string section bows for
an extended period of time. Much unexpectation. Regard Extreme bring
drums and synthetics to trump l'oeil for the joy of the princess.
And so it goes. Skald offer their
respect to days gone by, with plucking and bowing, plucking
and bowing. It is surprising how many of these sounds are intensely
visual, telling stories left and right and down again. ...The Soil
Bleeds Black feature
flute and big bass drum. Would the compact disc
format doom the musicians herein to a drowning or a burning at the stake
were they transported back to a simpler time? Tor Lundvall, in "My
Weakness", calls from a fog - a
veil of bells and wails, a mist of sounds not missed;
of vice and ether/or - regret? Nostalghia?
David Cotner
(Vital Weekly)
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