Halgrath - Out Of Time

Cryo Chamber: 2012

See, that was a decent little gap between Cryo Chamber releases, at least a week’s worth of time before returning to the dark ambient label once more. The Dread Year 2016, however, demands no less than two morbid musical offerings on my homepage at all times, and woe be unto thee who dare besmirch the Dread Year’s decree. All this suffering I’ve endured throughout the month of November? ‘Tis my penance for indulging a Summer Of Trance, seeking epic uplifting refuge from our dire times. Thus I will not taunt moody serious 2016 any longer, keeping as steady a stream of dark ambient as need be. I mean, I can’t afford to lose hearing in both ears, now can I?

Halgrath (or Agratha Mirrait, if you wish) was one of the earliest additions to Cryo Chamber after Simon Heath launched the label in 2012, back when the print was mostly a means of self-releasing Sabled Sun and Atrium Carceri material. Makes sense Mr. Heath would invite Ms. Mirrait over, as they both were featured on Cold Meat Industry before that seminal dark ambient label folded. In fact, Halgrath’s Arise Of Fallen Conception was among Cold Meat’s final releases. There’s a ‘from death, comes rebirth’ metaphor here, I just know it. Comes with this scene no matter where you go.

Out Of Time marks Halgrath’s debut with Cryo, featuring the sort of dark ambient I’d long associated with the genre as its default stylee. There’s bleak droning pieces (Down, Here, He Led Me Through The Dark Caverns), noisy industrial sonic attacks (Dark Dusty Corner, Lethal Injection, The Resistance), and meditative compositions drawing upon the occult for inspiration (Horoathea Mass Of Aegorath, Deep Underwater).

This last one makes sense hearing on this album, Halgrath having a background in opera – exploring aspects of Dark Ritual is part her whole manifesto. I mean, if an opening track of Summoning Of The Goddess wasn’t enough of a clue, I don’t know what to tell you. I was honestly surprised Out Of Time didn’t have more of that ethereal ambient going for it, offering more variety within its twelve tracks than most dark ambient projects offer in their whole discographies. We even get cinematic orchestral pieces (Follow Eternity, The Light Of The Earth’s Spheres) and melancholic piano dirges (We’ll Go Through Sorrow, Holding Each Others Hands). Pretty sure that’s every sub-category dark ambient indulges in, save outright nightmare-inducing field recordings, though I’m sure Halgrath could do that too if she wanted.

Out Of Time isn’t really the album for that. Seems the themes explored here are about souls lost in limbo, wandering between life and death, uncertain of where their hearts pull forthwith. Or is it about those who’d use a ritual to journey within limbo itself? Such is the narrative I get as this album plays out, each piece another step in going deeper into the nether-realms beyond our own. Aw, it ain’t that bad on this side, is it? *2016 lurks over shoulder*

Aegri Somnia - Monde Obscure

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Oh, dark ambient, may you wrap your bleak, inky tendrils over my confused being, leading me into dreams, reflections, and realms that are as twisted reality to our own. The Dread Year Of 2016 shows no remorse, but it cannot compare to the strangeness your scene provides in a multitude of ways. Near futures where we blew it all up (us maniacs!), peaks into dimensions perverting our hypercritical sense of moral decency into twisted parodies upon ourselves, inner and outward sojourns into extreme isolation from humanity’s failings, pondering how the self can carry on in the face of so much strife and decay. Forever searching for those specks and glimmers of light and hope in an unyielding chaos of black.

I did not intend for this genre to provide so much escapist solace this year, but damn if it doesn’t do the job better than most of my traditional standbys. Or maybe it’s that whole ‘new novelty’ factor, sounds and songcraft that is fresher for yours truly. Oh, but that’s just so much less poetic.

Anyhow, Monde Obscure is yet another Cryo Chamber album I’m reviewing, because of course it is. I promise though, this will be it from the label for… a little while? There’s only a few left in this endless backlog, so they gotta’ be spaced out better than this last batch of EVERY. OTHER. CD. Though I’m quite enraptured by a lot of this label’s output, a little more variety needs to kick in soon. I didn’t undertake this wacky listening project just to hear the same ol’ over and over.

ANYhoo, this album comes from Aegri Somnia, or Jurica Santek to the Croatian Crab-Lovers Committee [citation needed]. The Latin alias translates to ‘The Patient’s Dreams’ in Google, referring to fever dreams, or dreams induced from madness – something to do with a suffering sickness. And while the project has existed in some capacity over the last decade, Mr. Santek hasn’t done too much with it, a sprinkling of a smattering of released material over that time. Still, with digital albums like Nothingness and Script, he developed enough of a cult following (yeah yeah, ‘cult’, ‘dark ambient’, har har), that Cryo Chamber gave him the greenlight to put out a new album under their banner, spiffy hardcopy CD and all.

With cover art of a burnt-out husk of an apartment tower, you’d expect Monde Obscure some post-apocalyptic business, but the tale behind this album is a much different. Rather, this charred building serves as a portal to another realm, one not for the faint of heart. As dark ambient records go, this one is heavy on the field recordings, music almost incidental to the whole. There are snippets of piano, pad, choir, and tonal drone, but Mr. Santek would rather guide you through creaking infrastructure, dripping water, burning hallways, and distant echoes of crowds shuffling beyond this mortal coil. Feels like I’m playing one of the good Silent Hill game while listening to this.

protoU - Lost Here

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Yeah yeah, another Cryo Chamber album. I’ve said before such is the result of a label splurge, and when said label offers such lovely bulk deals on their music, label splurging is easy indeed. Heck, remember when I covered that pile of Psychonavigation Records material earlier in the year? Or even all those Fabric and In Trance We Trust mixes? And it’s not like I haven’t gathered massive amounts of material from other labels either: Hypnotic, Waveform, Turbo, Ultimae… um, Columbia. Of course, the difference there is that music was gathered over a course of two decades before taking on this blog in earnest, spreading their entries more fluidly as I trek through everything now. If Cryo Chamber had existed prior to 2012, we wouldn’t have such an overabundance of albums now. Then again, I wasn’t as open to a dark ambient label either. It still stuns me how my interest developed towards Simon Heath’s print.

On the other hand, ProtoU provides the sort of sound that might have eased me into the genre if I’d preferred a gradual transition from my general ambient interests. The lady behind the moniker, Sasha Cats, is relatively new onto the scene, almost completely barren of information at Lord Discogs. Last.fm does provide a bit more background, touching on her prior influences (violinist, choir, traditional classical) and some dabbling in contemporary genres (d’n’b, ambient, noisy experiments). T’was not long before she found kinship with dark ambient sorts though, soon enough making her debut on Cryo Chamber in the collaborative album Earth Songs. A short while later, Ms. Cats made her solo debut with this particular album, Lost Here, one of the few records on this label to have so much white in its cover art. Ooh, contrasts!

The titular opener features field recordings of flowing water and open spaces, all the while a rather calm and reflective pad tone drones in support. Hey, wait, didn’t the last ambient album I reviewed (The Longing Daylight) also open in a similar fashion? In what must be attributed to complete coincidence considering the disparate musical worlds between Mr. Norris and Ms. Cats, absolutely yes! Still, I’m always intrigued by common links within genres, so that was a cute coincidence to behold with my listening arrangement.

Similarities end there though, Lost Here much more vivid in the portrait it paints – it really does feel like I’m wandering about an empty area, alone with my thoughts. An abandoned city? The rubble of ancient ruins? A foggy seaside beach? Who’s to say, but there’s something strangely comforting about the tones ProtoU guides you along. They’re spacious, but never so empty you feel lost in desolation. Final tracks The Sea and Believe even offer hopeful tones, inching closer to the reflective nature of ambient-proper, though with a layer of gritty soot in this case. Lost Here isn’t reinventing any wheels, but should serve as an easy entry point for those looking to dip their toes into dark ambient’s opaque waters.

Randal Collier-Ford, Flowers For Bodysnatchers, Council Of Nine, God Body Disconnect - Locus Arcadia

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Scaling back from the super-mega-ultra concept of ‘ALL The Roster Work On Singular Label Project’, we have ‘A Few Guys On Label Work On Concept Album’. Not under a group pseudonym though, nor with any specific collaboration between each artist beyond working around the theme as laid out by Bruce Moallem (God Body Disconnect). Cryo Chamber's done something similar as this before, an album called Tomb Of Empires, and I can’t help but continuously marvel at how much creative freedom Simon Heath offers all these morbid musicians from across the globe. Still, despite each contributor providing a single (long) track to Locus Arcadia, this is more than a compilation. Applying the trusty ol’ ‘dark ambient as storytelling’ analogy, each piece is rather like a short story set within a specific setting, though whether we’re dealing with the same protagonist throughout, I’m not sure.

Locus Arcadia is the brain-child of Bruce Moallem, whose backstory I’ve detailed in the God Body Disconnect album Dredge Portals. Along for the ride is Council Of Nine, one Maximillion Olivier, whom I’ve also detailed to some degree with his two albums Dakhma and Diagnosis. Flowers For Bodysnatchers joins the haunted sci-fi party, though I didn’t get as heavy into Duncan Ritchie’s history while writing up his Aokigahara album (the forest history ate most of my word count). And finally there’s Randal Collier-Ford, who’s making his debut with this blog! Well, technically he did on the Cryo Chamber Collaboration of Azathoth, but who could tell where his portions of that jumbo project began and ended. Ah, maybe if I’d taken in some of his prior work, I’d figure out what his particular dark ambient attributes are. For now, all I’ve got to go with is the opening piece on Locus Arcadia.

Into The Maw Where All Men Die certainly is an auspicious title to kick off a dark sci-fi outing, and the music within is suitably apt. Menacing drone, mechanical breathing, claustrophobic mood, with a touch of wonderment at the end as you take in the grandeur of whatever deserted, orbiting super-structure you’re wandering about. Flowers For Bodysnatchers opts more for a pure ‘haunted house’ vibe with his piece, Black Echo Of Morgues And Memory: lots of distant clanking across empty halls, creepy sounds clawing at metal chambers nearby, all leading to an unleashed cacophonic fury of whatever horror lurks erupting on your senses. Mr. Ritichie’s use of natural instruments definitely plays a crucial role in his piece. Council Of Nine, meanwhile, brings things down to a steady ambient drone, Pale Sister Of Sanctuary Lost an almost calm and soothing respite from FfB’s intense outing. He still maintains the desolate space drone that permeates Locus Arcadia though, for God Body Disconnect must take us out in an incredibly cinematic piece. Using a Death Star-tonne of sci-fi sound effects, Prisoner’s Sacrifice Facing Arcadia could be a mini-movie in its own right, complete with soaring score and gentle piano denouement at the end. How Spielbergian of Maollem.

Aveparthe - Landscapes Over The Sea

Cryo Chamber: 2014

Time for my favorite type of dark ambient, that which gets geographical up in the house. Looks like this one’s got it all: cool coast lines, groovy ground carved by glacial processes, fluvial flows, probably all hanging out in some northern fjord too. Man, fjords are just awesome, all wavy and curvy and shit. They add so much coastal perimeter to your nation, several hundred or even thousands of kilometres of traversable landmass, all with impossibly steep hillsides plunging strait down into the deep black of cold oceans. Sure, the Oregon Coast may have some nifty dunes and eroded lumps of large rocks dotting its path, but there’s so little of it in total. Vancouver Island’s many fjords easily give the region a complete advantage in eroded lumps of large rocks. Look, it’s important for the lucrative postcard and wallpaper trades!

Okay, enough of the silly. While it’s true the concept of ‘untamed wasteland drone’ does appeal to me, it’s more for that sense of urban displacement than any sort of geographical porn. As with dark ambient focusing on deep space, there’s something captivating about unshackling your psyche from any and all human influence, losing oneself in the desolate emptiness of your surroundings. All from the comfort of my home, that is. Sure, I could make the actual trek to the Yukon tundra or alpine snows of the Coastal Mountains if I wanted a true isolation experience, but I like having a choice of six sushi restaurants within walking distance too.

The group Aveparthe hails from a fairly remote region of the world though, so they have some inkling of what it’s like having few ties to civilization at large. While info on Sádon is scarce, not so is the case with the other portion of this project, the charmingly named Astral & Shit (Ivan Gozikov). Hailing from the Russian city of Nevyansk, an administrative town on the eastern side of the Ural range, Mr. Gozikov has idled his time away making copious amounts of experimental noise and drone pieces under the A&S guise, some eighty-plus releases in the past half-decade alone. Throw in an additional eighty-plus releases as Demiurge Urizen, and you’ve got one ridiculously prolific producer. How nice of him to make time to collaborate with ol’ Sádon for a new project like Aveparthe.

Landscapes Over The Sea is their debut, on Cryo Chamber and in general. It consists of five tracks, two lengthy pieces breaching the seventeen minute mark (Nimbostratus, Full Of Sun), two shorter compositions running about three-and-a-half (Fog Machine, 1600), and a final eight minute track titled Turn. These are all straight-forward as far as ambient drone goes, growing and escalating with layers of pads, synths, field recordings, reverb, and timbre. There’s an ethereal quality to them all, especially Full Of Sun which utilizes chants as well. 1600 has a sparse tone going for it, Fog Machine obscures distant sounds, while Turn comparitively sounds luminous. Quite an abrupt ending though. Floating Points would approve.

Cities Last Broadcast - The Humming Tapes

Cryo Chamber: 2016

And finally I get to that oldest of dark ambient schools, the post-industrial class. Actually, calling it ‘post’ isn’t entirely accurate, this stuff developing almost concurrently with the warped sound experiments of early industrial. Once dark ambient started finding different ways of exploring the macabre side of drone though, its shared approach to the craft with traditional ambient dragged it out of the industrial scene into its own thing. Now you’ve got so many different styles of dark ambient, you’d almost need a Music Guide detailing it all; or not, this particular scene not as anal retentive about sub-genre purity as so many other electronic music scenes. For sure one could, if anything to help unsuspecting explorers differentiate from ‘space soul-crush’ from ‘urban decay doomcore’ from ‘Hell Dimension sadstep’ from ‘rainbow-sparkle drone’ (it’s an ironic micro-genre). But it’s not necessary, dark ambient connoisseurs content within their own interests, though perhaps with a shared smirk towards those who fear treading within.

Cities Last Broadcast, or Pär Boström to the Swedish Illuminati Division, has floated about the dark ambient scene for a while now. He’s probably better off known as Kammarheit, a project trending towards the reflective, melancholy side of dark ambient, and didn’t offer much exploration of unique recording methods. As an alias like Cities Last Broadcast though, you’re practically mandated to indulge industrial’s aesthetic of metropolitan decay. Crackling tape recordings, rusted grind of neglected machinery, billowing wind through burnt husks of buildings, warped records of a fallen culture - all that good stuff. For sure I’ve dealt with the post-apocalypse setting before, but most of those feature times significantly past the fall of Man, and often still using contemporary studio gear for recording. The Humming Tapes places us about as close to the initial action I’ve come across yet, feeling more like a Final Days Of A Victorian War than dealing with the after affects.

Well, the setting makes sense, given the crackling, droning analog tone that permeates this album. The actual content, however, focuses on the practice of séance, where a group of people sit together to communicate with spirits, a rather popular activity during the Victorian Era. Even Houdini getting in on that action, and grainy photographs of the sessions helped perpetuate the myth, but most séance mediums were considered frauds or hoaxes. Whether real or fake, The Humming Tapes presents itself as a recording from one such intense session, and I can’t help but wonder if ol’ Pär partook in a séance just for some authentic field recordings. Well no wonder that Glossolalia track sets my neck hairs on end!

Whether you believe in commune with the afterlife or not, The Humming Tapes definitely sells you on the atmosphere of a séance. It’s got the anxious waiting in the dark (The Sitting), the creepy contact (Glossolalia), a strangely forlorn discourse with the dead (Centennial), and that soul-emptying sense that you got more than you bargained for in toying with spirits (Electricity, Kathédra). A charming Halloween album, then.

Northumbria - Helluland

Cryo Chamber: 2015

I’ve covered so many forms of dark ambient from Cryo Chamber, I should take stock on whether I’m missing any. There’s space drone, for sure, and abstract drone near alongside it. Can’t forget the post-apocalyptic trip, nor the various excursions into realms of the occult. Moody synths, bleak widescreen dub, creepy field recordings, eerie musique concrete abstraction, cinematic sound design – that’s about all there is to dark ambient’s palette, right?

Not at all, as we’re still missing out on a pair of the scene’s classic components: old school industrial decay and sludgy doom metal drone. I touched on the latter one some two years ago now (!!), wherein metal’s morbid tendencies transplanted quite nicely into dark ambient’s domain, heavy guitar tones stretched out with reverb and feedback into a near-impenetrable fog of sound. And while some of the artists I’ve covered on Cryo Chamber have come from such backgrounds, none have made it their primary style, instead using synths and field recordings for their constructed soundscapes. Not this Northumbria duo though, fully embracing guitars for one of the least electronic sounding albums of dark ambient I’ve yet come across on this label. It only took me twenty-three CDs to get there.

Northumbria is comprised of Dorian Williamson and Jim Field, both of whom have floated around goth and sludge metal scenes for a while now. Jim Field even saw a little success with Sue Hotton as Rhea’s Obsession, their brand of darkwave finding them a home on industrial print Metropolis Records. Sometime in the recent past, the two met, discovering they had that all-elusive creative synergy so many musicians are in perpetual search of (other Holy Grails: the perfect beat, major label deals that won’t fuck you over). Their doom metal drone powers combined, Misters Field and Williamson started releasing music on a number of scattered dark ambient and post-metal prints. This included albums on labels like Consouling Sounds, thisquietarmy Records, and Altar Of Waste, plus compilation contributions to Futuresequence, Dipsomaniac Records, and Kalpamantra. Hm, seems a lot of Cryo Chamber guys have also released music on Kalpamantra. Are we looking at a sister print situation here, like Beyond and Waveform? Coo’ if so.

All these words spent on the background, and little left to detail Northumbria’s debut on Cryo Chamber, Helluland. Ah, well, that’s because there isn’t much to say. Guitar drone is generally vague and nondescript, all about the mood it conveys. And the mood be very melancholic indeed (Still Waters, Door Made Of Light, Song For Freyja, Catch A Falling Knife I); other times more sinister and foreboding (Sacred Ground, Maelstorm, Catch A Falling Knife II). Beyond these implied titles and moods though, I feel like these pieces could support nondescript art house films of chilly moors or foggy waterfronts. Or watching spiders weave their webs in the glow of dim street lights while waiting at a RAV line stop. Okay, that one’s super-specific, but damn if it didn’t suit the little scene I watched unfold.

Alphaxone - Echoes From Outer Silence

Cryo Chamber: 2016

And now we return to Alphaxone, with his fourth album in half as many years. Man, when some chaps find that stroke of inspiration, they don’t hold back, though obviously we’re not dealing with Merzbow levels of ‘creativity’. Mr. Saleh generally comes in with a clear concept in mind with each album, even if the music within goes incredibly abstract, allowing more creative expression on his part. Thus one can keep knocking ‘em out if you’re not limited by conventional songcraft restrictions. Yes, even dark ambient has its notable markers and canonical concepts – like, I doubt we’ll ever hear an album based on My Little Pony in this scene that wasn’t a deliberate macabre parody.

On Echoes From Outer Silence, Alphaxone turns his muse further towards the unending black speckled with stars, a natural progression considering the trajectory of his album on Cryo Chamber. First it was living in a gray land – bleak perhaps, but still rooted in terra firma of a sort. Altered Dimensions explored sounds and moods of a possible outworld, or mayhaps a world within, parallel to our own; dimensional travel’s confusing that way. Following that, Absence Of Motion found us suspended within the ether between solid ground and space, so it follows that gravity’s relinquished its domain over us just a little more. Damn, am I ever feeling loquacious today.

Actually, the concept behind this album is less about traveling to the cosmic realm, instead hearing the faint murmurs from above. The droning thrum of the cosmos itself, whispers of ancient galactic civilizations, and all that good stuff. Hey, wait… might some of those implied ‘echoes’ from outer silence be actually ‘signals’? Like, obviously Sabled Sun is a post-apocalyptic tale of Earth, and I’m assuming Alphaxone loosely bases his work on the presumption of an earthly starting point, but how cool would it be if Echoes Of Outer Silence was in some way linked to a greater overall narrative within Cryo Chamber’s roster of artists? It’d take the label’s collaborative ideas to a whole extra level, where instead of a pile of ‘em build upon one album’s worth of ideas, they keep adding to a growing arc through a series of albums! Holy cow, that’d be one of the boldest things I’ve ever seen in electronic music, though probably not terribly commercially viable.

Echoes From Outer Silence is the most melodic album I’ve heard from Alphaxone yet, though that’s honestly not saying much considering it’s mostly his drone work for Cryo Chamber I’ve consumed. Still, after a two minute opener of field recordings, second track Resistance offers synth tones ebbing in and out as the cosmic hum dominates the ambience. Elsewhere, Departure presents a melancholic mood within its droning dub tones, and Altered Xone has a mysterious dirge echo off ancient halls. The rest of this album plays as you’d expect of dark space drone, where the sounds are sci-fi, the reverb distant, and the timbre infinite. Nothing like feeling lost in eternal emptiness, amirite?

God Body Disconnect - Dredge Portals

Cryo Chamber: 2016

How? How does Cryo Chamber keep finding these guys? Like, has the dark ambient scene always been this flush with talent, but seldom given much exposure because, y’know, it’s dark ambient? The genre certainly doesn’t have much rep’ outside morbid sorts, nor is it the most inviting environment for the curious passerby. I certainly had little interest in digging beyond the most basic cliff’s notes sampling, and likely would have remained that way had Ultimae not sent me that Krusseldorf album by accident. Which led me to discovering other Simon Heath works. Which led me to Sabled Sun. Which led me to Cryo Chamber. Which keeps leading me to all these neat, creative artists exploring intriguing facets of the human psyche through cinematic music. Do other electronic scenes have this going for them? Like, how about Simpsonwave, eh? Yeah, no.

God Body Disconnect is one Bruce Moallem, Dredge Portals his debut under the alias. His only prior claim to fame was as part of the death metal band Dripping, which has something of a cult following in that scene, their scant CDs commanding a surprising amount of money on the open market. Not that he actively sought fame, and didn’t do much beyond those early days, mostly providing music support for friends and local bands. He kept doing his own stuff too, but little of it was intended for folks beyond his close associates to hear. Then, after hearing what Cryo Chamber was offering, he sent some demos to the label, if anything for feedback on the sounds he was cultivating. They went one further, immediately signing him. And here we are today, some guy now reviewing it after only getting into dark ambient barely a year prior. The Fates make bizarre connections sometimes.

So Dredge Portals. The concept is more concrete than most dark ambient albums go, of a narrator trapped in a coma, explicitly detailing the thoughts, worries, and fears of being in such a state within the opener Rise Of The Dormant Host. From there, Dredge Portals takes you on the sort of suggestive journey this scene – and especially these Cryo Chamber guys – so often excels at. Second track The Reflection Tower is calm, soothing ambient, with sounds of children laughing having me conjuring the narrator remembering an innocent youth, now lost as all his sins come back to haunt him. Descend With Demons is as dark and droning as you’d expect from the title, and Heart Of The Mirror’s Abyss combines the two disparate moods into a remarkable piece of widescreen drone and dub.

Dredge Portals does grow a tad repetitive in tone with its final run of tracks, but by then I’m well consumed by God Body Disconnect’s version of Jacob’s Ladder to care of such quibbles. And hey, Dreaming Of Glaciers does offer a rather gentle mood to end the tale. Save a disquieting bit of final dialog, seemingly rewinding the narrator’s time alive – forever trapped in looping reflection.

Uganasie - Call Of The North

Cryo Chamber: 2014

And thus we return to the frigid sounds of Ugasanie, or Угасание in his native Belarus. This CD came out the year before Eye Of Tunguska, and for a brief time held the distinction as one of Cryo Chamber’s first sell-outs. At least, I’m assuming that was the case – I haven’t always kept tabs on the label’s Bandcamp. When I first took a proper perusal of their catalog though, this and Signals IV-V-VI were the only items with the dreaded red “Sold Out” tag attached. And that was a shame for yours truly, anxious to take a deeper plunge into Ugasanie's dark ambient world that included music of spiritual kinship with Biosphere’s work. I mean, just look at that cover art! So cold and inhospitable, yet captivating and mysterious, a realm untouched by the hand of Man, daring the spirit into challenging one’s mettle against the harshest of this planet’s clime’s. Still, I wouldn’t want to trek across the alpine glaciers reaching deep into my British Columbian backyard in the dead of winter – I just like imagining doing so.

In any event, Cryo Chamber restocked their wares, and upon seeing Call Of The North back in, I quickly snatched that one up. Funny enough, another Ugasanie album, White Silence, has since been fully plundered from the label’s stores, but I got that one way back, so it’s all good. During that uncertain in between however, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about this album that had folks swarming in for a closer listen. Was it really just that hypnotizing cover art, or was there something more, something deeper, a masterclass of dark ambient and drone craftsmanship that stood Call Of The North above all its Cryo Chamber brethren?

Well, it’s got a nifty little concept behind it. Unlike the explicit narrative of Eye Of Tunguska, this album deals with a unique topic, that of a condition known as piblokto, or ‘Arctic Hysteria’. Essentially, there are reported cases of people going mad during the long winter night, overcome by remoteness and, if you believe in shamanism, the power of aurora. As this is strictly an Arctic phenomenon, most reported cases attributed to isolated Inuit communities and early European explorers, it’s not widely researched, with some experts doubting its status as a mental condition at all. Still, worth exploring through ambient drone, where one’s psyche is already overcome by sound.

Call Of The North traces the path of succumbing to piblokto. The first few tracks set the mood (Without The Sun, Aurora), segueing into the album’s centre as the condition takes hold. This includes an actual recording of a yukutish man taken over with Arctic hysteria (erm, in the track Arctic Hysteria), in the form of singing as dogs bark and a fire crackles – so very Biosphere. Finally, the album ends in Freezing and Cold Wasteland, wherein I picture our sufferer followed that calling of the north too far into the icy plains of the poles. Darn tricksy aurora.

Keosz - Be Left To Oneself

Cryo Chamber: 2016

While cruising through the annals of Lord Discogs, I took a classic double-take upon doing my cursory research into one Keosz. A very plain, simple bio is provided, claiming him a “Drum & Bass producer and DJ from Trencin, Slovakia.” Wait, what? I’m holding in my hands a Cryo Chamber CD, with Keosz’ name on it. Be Left To Oneself, his debut with the label (and first LP, if The Lord That Knows All is to be trusted) is totally a dark ambient release. Maybe not so bleak and twisted as Cryo Chamber typically goes, but definitely music that fits the print’s manifesto. After scoping out some of Keosz’ early singles, yeah, there’s a murky edge to his sound; he’s less of a traditional junglist and closer to the realms of sparse, minimalist microfunk. And as ASC’s proven, it’s not such a large leap from that into ambient proper. Still, it’s a weird transition seeing an EP on Future Funk Music within the same discography containing an album on Cryo Chamber.

The guy in question is Erik Osvald, and if there’s a common link between all his material, it’s that of stark urban settings. Cities in decay, its folk left wandering abandoned neighborhoods and industrial districts, living an almost feral existence - though not quite in a post-apocalyptic hellscape. So, he’s seen Detroit then. Eh, they say the Motor City is on the recovery as of late? Hm, may have to soon come up with new shorthand for failing districts. How long before that Brexit thing ruins London, y’wager?

Right off the opening titular track, Keosz presents himself as something different from Cryo Chamber’s standard dark ambient and abstract drone - there’s actual melody! True, it’s cinematic and melancholic, another aspect of this label’s repertoire that I’ve occasionally come across, but it’s less the norm compared to the print’s regular roster of producers. Most releases I’ve heard play out as self-contained narratives or works of conceptual art, and I don’t get that sense from Be Left To Oneself. This is music in need of a short film or video game to support it; score pieces that are perfect in setting the mood for something specifically visual rather than leading your imagination to do the visualizing for you. Keosz does offer some guidance in his track titles - Forlorn, Traitor, Insecure, Clearance, Before The End - but these are all quite ambiguous for an album released on a label that’s ace at painting vivid scenery. Maybe amorphous feelings are all there is to it, the title taken as literal interpretation.

At nine tracks in length, and only one breaking the six minute mark (not even reaching seven at that), Be Left To Oneself plays out rather briefly too. Still, there are plenty of lovely, orchestral passages scattered about, especially in the latter half with chants and rain morphing into static. Keosz definitely sells the mood of a lost soul wandering a city gone to waste. How Burial of him.

A Cryo Chamber Collaboration - Azathoth

Cryo Chamber: 2015

A compilation where a label’s roster contributes new tunes in support of a theme? It’s been done. A lot. Almost a prerequisite for psy trance prints, and no doubt among synthwave’s lasting legacies. For sure dark ambient does this plenty too, including on Cryo Chamber a few times. At some point though, label head Simon Heath postulated the quandary: “Can we do more?” Why yes you can, t’was the answer, presenting a collaborative concept where folks on the roster all contributed to a single, long track rather than several separate ones. My, how very prog rock of y’all!

Seriously though, this was an audacious idea, bringing in about a dozen Cryo Chamber artists and associates for a single composition. How do you even get everyone in the same studio for that? You technically don’t, hence where the internet comes into play, linking everyone’s own studios. So this is a lengthy jam session then, with everyone playing their own drone for over an hour? No, that’d be horrible, and rather pointless, twelve dark ambient producers reduced to a cacophony of black noise.

Best I can figure, the Cryo Chamber Collaboration concept is like shared online stories, where individual authors contribute a few paragraphs or chapters, with the narrative picked up and carried on by another until the piece is finished. Now that… that is a damn cool idea, and one I don’t recall being attempted in music! Oh, I’m sure it has been done, probably with IDM wonks or jazz maestros, but this is the first time I’ve come across it. And I would have picked up the first Cryo Chamber Collaboration too, if it hadn’t been based on possibly the most cliché dark ambient critter out there, Cthulhu. That’s like making a trance tune based on a sunrise, or a house track about Jack.

Still, the project was successful enough to warrant a sequel, which gives us a double-LP effort based on the granddaddy of Lovecraftian horrors, the famed all-consuming, chaos-dimension spanning, tentacle space-monster, Azathoth. Hey, that’s cool – He’s kinda’ like one of my favorite characters from Marvel VS Capcom, Shuma-Gorath.

Azathoth brings in over twenty producers to the table. Some I’ve talked about (Alphaxone, Dronny Darko, Sabled Sun, Ugasanie), some I will talk about (Halgrath, Apocryphos, Cryobiosis, Randal Collier-Ford), and some are totally new to my ears (Therradaemon, Neizvestija). I can’t say I’m familiar enough with each artist to identify when one’s contribution ends and another begins, though you definitely notice changes in sounds, tone, and craft as each piece unfolds. CD1 essentially deals with arrival in Azathoth’s realm, mostly desolate space and foreboding menace. CD2 has more activity going for it, and thus far more unsettling passages as it plays out. Not recommended for napping music.

If you’re looking to get acquainted with Cryo Chamber’s brand of dark ambient, Azathoth isn’t the best starting point. Better to take in a few of the roster’s solo releases, then discover how all these disparate musicians meld their twisted minds into one.

Flowers For Bodysnatchers - Aokigahara

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Dark ambient isn’t all atonal synth work and creepy sound effects - some of it uses honest-to-Cthulhu real instruments too! Folks feeling the modern classical mojo can find comfortable nesting grounds here, provided they don’t mind exploring abhorrent aspects of the human condition. Considering Silent Hill’s massive fanbase though, I’m certain classically trained pianists, cellists and glockenspielists with a taste for the sinister side of their craft exists in droves.

Duncan Ritchie is one such chap, emerging from Cryo Chamber’s ceaseless roster expansion as Flowers For Bodysnatchers with this debut album of Aokigahara. He apparently got his start making dark ambient of the industrial sort, as part of a group called The Rosenshoul. Lord Discogs draws a total blank on such a group, but even The Lord That Knows All can’t keep track of every short-lived industrial project (capital effort though!). I guess the harsh electronic edge that form of dark ambient goes wasn’t to ol’ Duncan’s taste, as Flowers For Bodysnatchers makes ample use of pianos, woodwinds, cellos, chants, and even taiko drums for this particular album. For sure he still utilizes eerie field recordings, moody pads, and discordant effects that can set the hairs on the back of your neck on edge, but never to the detriment of his classical approach to this sort of music. And besides, it’s not about the tools used in dark ambient that matters, but whatever story or theme the artist achieves with them.

For those who don’t know (erm, I had to look it up), Aokigahara refers to a particular forest near the base of Mt. Fuji in Japan. Already a rather creepy gathering of densely packed, moss-covered trees, it’s gained a reputation as “the suicide forest”, where many a depressed individual goes to ponder their existence, feeling empty and alone in an indifferent world; a place to end it all, whatever ‘it’ might have been. Despite this, Aokigahara has become something of a tourist attraction for those seeking out macabre locations on our globe, with plenty of stories, folklore, and music inspired by its reputation.

Ritchie explores the process of succumbing to Aokigahara’s black embrace with this album, tracing the melancholic isolation that would lead one to the journey deep within such a foreboding region. The opening pieces Prisoner Of Night And Fog, And There Is Darkness, and Field Of Ink has a gentle timbre of pianos echoing off the emptiness within these tracks. Kuroi Jukai and There Will Be Lies makes use of Japanese traditional instrumentation as tension mounts within this narrative. Things seem to fall apart for our protagonist in Night Heroin, the longest track at nearly twelve minutes, which includes piercing drone and extended periods of sickly, viscous sounds of black bubbling. From there pieces alternate between modern classical compositions, creepy field recordings, and industrial drone – things aren’t looking too bright in this journey. Still, given the comparatively tender tones of The Games Foxes Play, some release must have been had. No, wait, the tone’s changed. Oh dear…

Sabled Sun - Signals IV-V-VI

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Now wait just a darn minute! Didn’t I miss my chance on this triple-disc collection, that when I stopped over at the label’s Bandcamp, the site claimed they were sold out? Indeed they had, and I rested easy in accepting that star-cruiser having sailed, missing on owning another chapter in the Sabled Sun saga. It’s not like I couldn’t hear any of these hour-long drone pieces through a streaming service. And besides, the Signals pieces aren’t even part of the main narrative Simon Heath’s crafted with the project; rather like side-stories, or appendices, or bonus features, or- no, wait, all this cinematic dark ambient isn’t literal cinema on DVD.

In a move I hadn’t counted on, Cryo Chamber replenish their stock, including another round of Signals IV-V-VI. This shouldn’t come as that big a deal, but considering so many online prints have very limited runs of their physical releases, you’d forgive me for thinking this label would be the same. It actually stuns me that dub techno labels are so comparatively skint, what with how much critical love they receive from all the Very Important electronic music rags. I always figured dark ambient a super-niche scene, but I suppose there’s some crossover from the underground metal ranks, and that’s anything but small, believe you me.

From the outset its clear Mr. Heath was aiming for a different take in this second trilogy of Signals. The first three were quite distinct from one another, but the stark, dead-in-space artwork helped maintain a linking connection within the concept. This next bundle offers something sunnier; in fact about a billion times so. Are we dealing with the same planet, because that’s an astounding number of stars featured in the cover art compared to the previous set of Signals. Looks like we’re hovering somewhere near a globular cluster rather than some outflung back-spur of the galaxy. I wonder if this is a region those signals from the first three were directed. Was that even the impression I was meant to get from those hour-long compositions? Drone can be so very vague at times. Right, most times.

On the surface, there isn’t much difference between Signals IV, V, and VI. All three feature similar atonal space drone dominating nearly every audible wavelength you can imagine, but in a way that’s not crushing on your senses. Signals IV has a fuzzy run of static throughout, eventually joined by intermittent chirping frequencies piercing the empty void. Signals V has more of a journey going for it, the droning tones occasionally receding as though the cosmos is inhaling before carrying on its never-ending symphony of non-sound. It even changes in timbre during its course, and if you listen carefully enough, one can hear the distinct whine of radio transmissions desperately trying to be heard. Signals VI is just unrelenting suffocating drone for its full hour, barely a change in- wait, what was that signal at the tail end? No, wait, come back! Oh dear, we’ve lost it…

SiJ & Textere Oris - Reflections Under The Sky

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Many of these Cryo Chamber CDs I’m reviewing were procured thanks to the label’s spiffy bulk deals, but not this one. With Reflections Under The Sky, I snatched that up the moment it was announced, getting my hardcopy right off the factory line. Was it because I was a die-hard fan of one SiJ or Textere Oris? Had I been so completely won over by Cryo Chamber’s dark oeuvre that I simply had to shell out for every new release? Ah, not quite the case.

Way back when I started the splurge, a couple of items that interested me were already sold out: Ugasanie’s Call Of The North, and Sabled Sun’s Signals IV-V-VI. With everything under Simon Heath’s sci-fi saga deemed ‘must hear’ for yours truly, I was gutted that I’d be left without a hardcopy of the continuing Signals series. It also got me thinking that, as with most labels now, their CDs were still a limited run offer, and that I shouldn’t dwell on anything Cryo Chamber puts out if it looks promising. And besides, even if it doesn’t turn out all that I’d hoped for, they’d at least become quick collector’s items like so many Ultimae or Silent Season CDs, right? Well, maybe not.

So my impetus in getting Reflections Under The Sky had a smidge of Collector Investment impurity to it. Once I actually played the CD though, I realized I could never part with it, this album such a swirl of dubby sounds and reflective sentiments, I couldn’t believe it wasn’t something from Silent Season instead. Still, Cryo Chamber’s generated their share of moody melancholic material before, with SiJ and Textere Oris sparing no expense in presenting a unique brand of picturesque societal decay. There’s plenty of droning ambient, but it’s not always as bleak as the dark proponents go. Its equal parts calm and soothing, as though we’re being gently laid to rest for an eternal slumber. And through it all are ample minimalist field recordings that Andrew Heath would swoon over: falling rain, chirping birds, insects, creaking buildings, wind chimes, and… a tea kettle reaching boiling?

Apparently this is the sort of music SiJ (Vladislav Sikach to the Ukrainian Musician’s Guild) dabbles in, making use of any and all instruments at his disposal. This includes guitars, drums, toy pianos, and even homemade machines, much of which was used to explore noisier abstractions and experiments. He’s definitely had plenty opportunity, some forty LPs released across several netlabels this past half decade. Lord Discogs has less info on Textere Oris, one Ilya Fursov of Moscow, but he provides additional field recordings, synths, and the final mixdown. Aw, Simon Heath left out in the cold on this one.

Yeah, that’s what it feels like listening to Reflections Under The Sky: wrapped up in a parka while surveying an old European winter village, just barely hanging on as a testament to civilizations past. It’s at once lovely and immersive, yet a chilling reminder that nothing lasts.

Dronny Darko - Outer Tehom

Cryo Chamber: 2014

Have I mentioned Dronny Darko’s name yet? Tsk, three albums deep, and that’s just unacceptable. Right, Earth Songs was a collaborative project with protoU (real name Sasha Cats), and seeing as how I spent the bulk of that one getting all giddy over the CD’s concept, you’ll forgive my omission. Then I came to Neuroplasticity, and spent a good deal of time delving into Dronny’s details; and yet, no proper name drop. This self-imposed word count though, it forces content cuts, information incised from each review. And that’s good, long-winded, tedious, go nowhere tangents of useless use seldom clogging each post. Even if the sacrifice must be an artist’s real name, it must be so, lest I unwarily ramble into the never-ending chasm that is the Pointless Pitchforkian Anecdote.

Oleg Puzan debuted on Cryo Chamber with this album, and got his first hard copy CD out of the deal to boot. No more languishing in obscurity on saturated dark ambient netlabels, yo’! Heh, no, the Ukrainian resident was making a name for himself, one that stood out if for no other reason than he went by such an obvious pun in the drone scene. He's also rather obvious in tackling the concept of ‘old world horror’ here, where the occult and the profane meet up for a good ol’ outing in the murky pitch of abhorrent black realms. Not the most original topic where dark ambient is concerned, but these Cryo Chamber guys, I gotta’ hand it to them, always unearthing some of the most obscure references to suckle their creative juices from.

For those who are not practicing scholars of Judaism (or theology in general), Tehom is a deep, abyssal realm, kinda’ like Hell, but an empty void rather than a fire and brimstone domain. There’s also an ocean there apparently, for this is where it’s said the Great Flood that drowned the lands of Noah’s age originated from. God sent the waters of the Red Sea into Tehom as well, when Moses had to scurry all those Hebrew refugees out of Pharao’s clutches. And ultimately, you can either go there to drown in your sins, or be granted safe passage through during the End Of Days, depending on who you ask. It’s all quite vague, with barely a mention in any tome, but cool that ol’ Oleg used it as a source.

Also cool is how each track is thirteen minutes long, even if the significance is lost on me. Opener Black Arts and closer Arcane Shrine are rather similar in the desolate drone they offer, though Black Arts does start with some gnarly throat singing. Mortal Skin goes as you’d expect of occult dark ambient, including many creepy chants. Compared to the other three tracks though, Snake Hole is surprisingly soothing, if still eerie in a ‘staring into the abyss’ manner. I must wonder too, whether Outer Tehom is set in a contemporary age, as I hear distant transmissions emanating from distant radios throughout. Strange, that.

Dronny Darko - Neuroplasticity

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Dronny Darko’s the sort of alias I really want to make snickering remarks over, but damn if the man behind it doesn’t deny me that chance. His works are just so interesting, at least on a conceptual level. Obviously his pairing with protoU on Earth Songs was pure catnip to my cosmic triggers, and it seems his points of inspiration show no bounds. His first album on Cryo Chamber, Outer Tehom, dealt with the occult side of dark ambient’s oeuvre, and he’s explored various other themes on netlabel releases for Petroglyph Music and DNA Production. A misconceived origin here, a polar night on Titan there, to say nothing of spending one-thousand years in cryosleep. Dark ambient sorts sure love their cryosleep. Are many of them insomniacs, the scientifically induced slumber their only hope of a restful respite from the harrowing conscious state defined by neurosis? Or maybe it’s just a real cool sounding collection of syllables.

Still, a wandering muse doesn’t always lead to the most promising of pastures, especially for one seemingly intent on challenging himself as Dronny Darko does. His second LP for Cryo Chamber, Neuroplasticity, foregoes almost all of dark ambient’s conventional spaces in favor of something you might find on Mille Plateaux or Raster-Noton: experimental, minimalist abstraction, muted atmosphere, and empty drone. Right, some of this label’s producers indulges in that last one too, but Mr. Darko takes his material closer to the realms of musique concrete than anything remotely typical for Cryo Chamber. The opening track, Mirror Neurons, has echoing woodblocks plonking about as though we’re watching an avante-garde film detailing the finer processes of bio-chemical reactions, soon followed by flittering electrical pulses flashing across colorless spaces. In fact, that’s exactly what this is, if the little promo video for this track at the Bandcamp site is anything to go by. Oh yeah, have I mentioned each Cryo Chamber release has a nifty promo video? Worth checking out, if you need some context for this music.

No, wait, ‘music’ is not what this is in the slightest. While drone ambient is often atonal regardless, ol’ Dronny doesn’t give us any wisp of a note in these five tracks. Plazma Lake is fifteen minutes of being submerged in thick viscous substance, occasional crackles of brain pulses and a muted heartthrob your only markers of sound. Electrical Membrane spends six minutes shooting garbled frequencies at your senses before fading out in mechanical drone. Circuits sounds like you’re gestating in a test-tube, being nurtured and cared for by scientists twisting and abusing the laws of nature. Ion Voltage frees you from whatever cybernetic madness has thus far assaulted your senses, with a hard cut ending the album abrupt and complete.

Neuroplasticity isn’t just abstract experimentation for its own sake – the album does have a journey of sorts going for it. Damn though, it’s unlike anything I’ve heard on Cryo Chamber yet. Cheers for taking a chance in exploring the desolate mindscape of a Borg drone.

Atrium Carceri - Metropolis

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Of course I’d give Atrium Carceri a go in my Cryo Chamber splurge. This label may not even exist without Simon Heath’s early success with the project. In short order he carved a deep incision within the dark ambient scene, injecting it with many albums under the guise. Ew, sorry for the metaphor, but when one looks at that early material on Cold Meat Industry - with albums like Cellblock or Seishinbyouin (translation: mental hospital), and Eldritch horror cover art as found on Kapnabatai - Lord knows it gives you all the fidgety creeps right out of Silent Hill. Though I’ve much fondness for Mr. Heath’s Sabled Sun material, I’d need a sturdy frame of mind to take on those Atrium Carceri LPs. Or, y’know, bulk buy them and see what happens.

His early albums were considered instant classics, no small feat considering the pedigree Cold Meat Industry carries for connoisseurs of dark ambient. Most of those focused on singular spaces though, derelict buildings and decayed populaces, creating a loose mythology in the process. When he resurrected Atrium Carceri for Cyro Chamber, Simon saw more potential in the project, expanding the early lore to encompass an entire civilization. What could have caused such rot among these people? Who were those in power that allowed it to happen? Where did all these strange obelisks come from? Were there any survivors able or willing to unearth these secrets, to perhaps rebuild? Yeah, the ‘exploration of dying/extinct societies’ is pretty consistent with Mr. Heath’s dark ambient work. Heck, he even scored a game called… The Old City: Leviathan. Play to your strengths, yo’.

Metropolis sets out to unearth some of the Atrium Carceri secrets, a mini-quest of discovery from The Gargantuan Tower, Across The Seas Of The Dead to a Decrepit City, through an Industrial District into the Heart Of The Metropolis, where you’ll encounter The Cowled Seers, and perhaps unlock The Machine that governs everything. Though capable standalones, each of the eleven tracks plays best like a chapter in this album’s narrative. While specifics are seldom detailed about what transpires, Heath coaxes your imagination wonderfully with his cinematic songcraft.

The Dark Mother provides a gloomy dirge with a thudding rhythm, music for your trek in this inhospitable world. Across The Sea Of The Dead captures an endlessly bleak expanse, charred clouds suffocating the few flashes of distant lightening. Black Needle drones with atonal pads and distorted bells, as though revealing piercing, deformed towers against a blackened sky. Sacred Slab crushes you with drone while offering a tantalizing, tangible mystery within. 200 Days has a bit of narration offered, a storied recap as told by a messenger long since deceased. Industrial drone grinds and clatters about the metropolis, even as those cowled seers dutifully task themselves with maintaining whatever it is this ancient machine does. We may have uncovered the Metropolis secrets, but there sure isn’t much we can do about it. Well, maybe in a sequel, there’ll be hope.

Alphaxone - Living In The Grayland

Cryo Chamber: 2014

Wow, it’s been a shade over a month since I last dealt with Alphaxone. Remember way back then, when I first started this epic alphabetical backlog? Y’all probably didn’t think we’d be only at the ‘L’s now, did ya’? Heck, even if you knew there were more Alphaxone CDs to come (I’m fairly certain I alluded to it), I doubt folks figured I’d have gone through four additional Cryo Chamber releases along the way. Hey, when I label-splurge, it’s with gusto. Still, d’is backlog tho’. I thought I’d have made it a little further along, yet here we are, only halfway through. It’ll be nearly another month before I can resume my regular course.

ANYHOW, this here Living In The Grayland is the first album Mr. Saleh released with Cryo Chamber, erroneously tagged as ‘New Age’ in Windows Media Player. Maybe the algorithm somehow thought this was a Monolith Cycle album instead? I don’t know if I should be more amazed that the app even assigned a genre to this album, or the fact it somehow confused a dark ambient CD for something more relaxing and meditative. I know release information is often user submitted, but how anyone could mistake Living In The Grayland for something one might hear at a yoga session or message parlor boggles my mind. Maybe if the masseuse is a succubus. No, wait; wrong sort of dark ambient. This is Alphaxone we’re dealing with here, not Council Of Nine.

In case you don’t remember, Mr. Seleh’s brand of drone tends to go for abstraction rather than portraying bleak pictures. The evolution of his Cryo Chamber albums saw him gradually shift towards LPs with some semblance of progression and narrative as they played. We’re dealing with his first for the label though, thus Living In The Grayland has about as intangible a plot as a David Lynch movie at his Lynchiest. Whereas Altered Dimensions and Absence Of Motion felt like you had to take a journey to reach their outworld realms, we’ve already arrived in the Grayland with this album. What will you see, what will you feel? What warping of your being shall unfold as you wander aimlessly through vistas devoid of hue?

A fair bit of drone, naturally, with plenty of layered texture and timbre in these ten tracks. Some pieces definitely make you small and insignificant, like the enveloping Overwhelm or spacious Darkscore. Others may give you a sense of dread as you traverse these unfamiliar regions, like foreboding Cold Spring or creepy Into The Silence. Yet the mood and tone is never concrete in how you should feel, whether you want to explore further or flee elsewhere. Where would you go, though? You’ve no choice but to remain here, for all eternity and longer. Why else would final track Grayland offer the only form of ‘music’, a minimalist dirge penetrating murky drone as it fades to nothingness. Your last clutches of earthly sanity ever slowly ebbing away from your grasp.

Ugasanie - Eye Of Tunguska

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Is there any landmass more inhospitable and devoid of humanity than the Siberian plateau? Right, Antarctica, but the polar continent has an allure, a challenge for the human spirit; a realm where you can see unique fauna and frozen wastes unlike anywhere else on the planet. What does Siberia have? Dense woods, peat bogs, brutal winters, and more bugs than all the grains of sand in the world, the region a nearly impenetrable fortress of human misery. A perfect place for sending your criminals and prisoners, but horrible for the tourist industry.

There’s one area, however, that’s captured the imagination of astronomers, speculators, theorists, and artists, known for an event that was as catastrophic as it was mysterious. All the early expeditions were able to find at ground zero were thousands upon thousands of blasted, dead trees, some still standing but charred to a cinder. With no signs of a crater, science guessed it was caused by an exploding chunk of space rock or ice, one that detonated before it even impacted upon the ground. But surely something that explosive would have left an impact mark, the world thought. Given that the Tunguska region was remote even by Siberian standards though, very few expeditions followed-up on the event.

As such, the Tunguska Event entered contemporary speculative fiction lore, a sci-fi trope probably only outrivaled by Roswell. Many an author, comic, TV show, and video game dealing with aliens references it, a tantalizing region to hang a conspiracy theory on. What better, isolated area for governments and E.T.s to convene than this, plotting world control and humanity misery? Right, Antarctica again.

Some musicians have also namedropped Tunguska, including Tomita, Alan Parsons, Cymbals Eat Guitars, and a few metal bands too. This here Ugasanie, whose brand of dark ambient typically focuses on the furthest regions of European hinterlands, would naturally have his say in Siberian folklore. Rather than rehashing the same ol’ event though, Eye Of Tunguska instead recounts a smaller, intimate occurrence, involving a group of hiking students eager to see the epicenter. Losing their way as you do in the middle of literal nowhere, they were never heard from again, their bodies eventually recovered at a nearby abandoned geological station, mutilated and covered with radiation burns. Wait, is this fiction, or did this really happen? If so, day-um…

The album’s essentially a dark ambient score to the story, each track another chapter (The Taiga, Lonely Winter Hut, The Phenomenon, Last Night, Attempt To Contact, The Bodies Under The Snow, and so on). Sounds mostly consist of eerie tones, desolate drone, and sparse field recordings, all with a sci-fi undercurrent of nervous curiosity and tense exploration. Even with a concrete plot as a backbone, Ugasanie leaves his tracks plenty open to interpretation in what’s unfolding, making Eye Of Tunguska the sort of CD that demands one’s full attention for the best results. If you’re willing to take this trip to Tunguska, anyway. Antarctica don’t look so bad now.