Lorenzo Montanà - Leema Hactus

Psychonavigation Records: 2014

Part two of Lorenzo Montanà’s trilogy on Psychonavigation Records, all released within a three years span of each other. As if that wasn’t enough, he put out another album on Carpe Sonum Records the same year this came out, to say nothing of two additional 2015 LPs alongside the final chapter of Trilogy, Vari Chromo. Does this guy just keep stockpiling music all the live long day? And have I already rhetorically asked this question in a previous review? Feels like I have, but I’m too lazy to hop in my time machine and ask January 2016 Sykonee if he’s written a similar query in Black Ivy or Serpe. In any case, we’re definitely getting a right-proper crash course in Mr. Montanà’s music these past few months.

If you’ve been following these Lorenzo reviews since the beginning, you might have noticed a pattern emerge in the quality of albums. Black Ivy was interesting, but unfocused, while Serpe was a splendid improvement. Eilatix, however, felt like a step back, so that must mean Leema Hactus springs back with the goods, right? Yeah, it does, but come on; you can’t seriously buy this line of logic? It’s too small a sample size to form any accurate model, and I’d be rightfully roasted by crusading statisticians on social media for peddling such pseudo analytics in the form of a music review. Whoops, getting sidetracked as always!

Leema Hactus is another great album from Mr. Montanà, taking the dynamic songcraft shown in Serpe and expanding upon it even further. There’s ample ambient techno, dubby pad work, clicky-glitch rhythms ranging from brisk tempos to subdued chillers, and gentle-sweet melodies throughout, some of which are among the best I’ve heard from Lorenzo. Greenlift will utterly melt your heart, I tell you what; like hearing a melancholy fairy lullaby as fireflies dance in twilight.

Most of Leema Hactus has an undercurrent of gardens, what with tracks titles like Conflict Garden, Emerald, Hynogreen, Greenlift, and Dew Flow. The cover art doesn’t hurt in selling that notion either, though I do wonder what the album’s title means. I searched about the Googles for it, and very little came up. ‘Leema’ is apparently a lady’s name, kind of like how Peru’s capital, Lima, is a name. ‘Hactus’ may be a name as well, but when Mr. Montanà’s album eats up the first twenty search returns, I’ve very little to go on. One day, maybe I’ll try that ‘journalist’ thing of asking the producers questions for my answers. Conjecture though, it’s much funner.

Anything else? There’s a dubstep track in here, the track Dew Flow. Well, one of those half-step breaks that the genre abused, to the point you can’t help but expect a horrible wub-wub accompanying it. Lorenzo don’t do that though, instead serving up gracious, delicate melodies as he’s wont to do in this album. Chillstep, you say? No it’s, um, ambient techno, with a fresh rhythm to your standard trip-hop steps. Yeah, that’ll do.

U2 - The Joshua Tree

Island Records: 1987

The only U2 album you’re supposed to have, even if you’re not a U2 fan. What, you thought it’d be Songs Of Innocence? I suppose that’d be technically true, if only for a brief time before seventy-seven percent of iTunes users demanded it scrubbed from their libraries. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past Bono or Tim Cook assuming it was a U2 album all their customers were ‘supposed to have’, because that’s what good U2 and Apple users accept. Well, just because everyone adored The Joshua Tree and the early ‘00s albums that tried replicating it doesn’t mean folks will lap up any ol’ forced giveaway. We need that illusion of choice, yo’.

Like how everyone under the Western sun ‘chose’ to anoint U2 as The Greatest Rock Band On Earth after this album. Right, it’s not like they had that much competition in the year 1987, folks getting weary of synth pop and sterile corporate rock. Bono, The Edge, A. Clay’, and Mr. Mullen were already darlings of the college rock scene, and could probably have rode a tidy career on their early rough sounds, the Brian Eno experimentation of The Unforgettable Fire be damned. But wait, that Bono fella’, he’s seen some shit these past few years, amazing wonder and splendor in the untamed lands of America, and such horrible, horrible ghettos in the lands of Africa and Central America. He felt inspired to mesh these extremes, offering music that could replicate the expansive mountains and deserts of Earth while bringing U2’s political leanings to larger issues than the plight of the Irish. This could have all turned into an embarrassing bout of pretentious music making the likes the ‘80s had never seen. The fact we’re still talking fondly of The Joshua Tree - that for all of U2’s insufferable antics in the ensuing decades, we still hold their fifth album in such high esteem – goes to show just how gracefully they knocked this out the park. Hey, Americana reference, how apt!

The album opens with Where The Streets Have No Name, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, and With Or Without You, a trio of songs everyone points towards as the definitive sound of the band. It’s among the strongest starts to any record, made more so by the lush production Daniel Lanois and Brian Eno affords. Bono wanted their music to sound as open and far reaching as the American deserts and plains, and by Jove and Joshua tree, the Lanois-Eno tandem know how to deliver. Couple that with impassioned, poetic lyrics delivered by Bono, and it never comes off preachy or sanctimonious. Issues were all the rage in the ‘80s, and these songs probably highlighted them better than anyone.

Oh yeah, there’s a whole bunch of album after this too! Lots of loving nods to American blues, with plenty of jangly guitar licks and thick bass picks. Would have been a great album in its own right, but man, those first three songs, eh?

Madonna - The Immaculate Collection

Sire Records: 1990

The only Madonna album you need, if you want a bluffer’s collection of Ms. Ciccone’s early discography. Not that her records didn’t sell well enough on their own, but for as much of a phenomenon she became throughout the ‘80s, her LP efforts were often spotty. Killer singles, no doubt, but a fair number of filler tracks too, mostly ballads, covers, and the like. Most folks just wanted to hear the peppy pop of Holiday, Material Girl, or Papa Don’t Preach, then move on with their lives before those awesome earworms started tickling the memory membranes again. Praise be, then, to the greatest hits packages, and what better way to put a capper on Madge’s dominance of ‘80s airwaves than one such collection. Naturally, such an effort could only be considered immaculate by her standards, but as Madonna’s entire m.o. is “if you got it, flaunt it”, what harm is there indulging her? Right, these past ten years of her career, good point.

The Immaculate Collection has everything you need for your Madonna: Phase One needs. The early “Jellybean” Benitez produced hits like Holiday and Crazy For You. The Nile Rodgers produced superhits such as Like A Virgin and Material Girl. The Patrick Leonard produced über-‘80s power pop pieces Love To Tell, La Isla Bonita, and Like A Prayer. The Stephen Bray produced club anthems like Into The Groove, Papa Don’t Preach, and Express Yourself. The Lenny Kravitz produced sultry… S&M… house coo of Justify My Love? Wait, what? Oh, and through much of this period is Shep Pettibone, often serving as an additional producer to give all these songs that extra punch of dancefloor sensibility. Guy was a God throughout the ‘80s.

Even if you were a Madonna fanatic and had bought all the albums, The Immaculate Collection was still a handy pick-up. Bringing all her best songs into one spot helped (don’t laugh, this was an extremely difficult thing for folks to do back in the day!), but it also gathered her wayward hits too, mostly found on soundtracks. Because good Lord, no one should have to buy I’m Breathless just for Vogue - so much better having it here, plus the additional new tracks Justify My Love and Rescue Me, leading us into her Erotica era.

That’s probably the most interesting takeaway from The Immaculate Collection, hearing her development as an artist. This is now all common knowledge of course, but going from the chipper post-disco chirps of her early material to the full-throated husky moans at the end is quite the evolution. It’s a remarkable showcase in proving just how adaptable a presence she’d already become, and fools they be had they thought she couldn’t pull it off throughout the ‘90s as well. Some of the ‘00s too, I guess.

In this day of streaming, The Immaculate Collection probably isn’t all that essential anymore, but at least it provides a handy ‘ultimate ‘80s Madonna’ playlist without you having to fuss for it yourself.

Pantera - The Great Southern Trendkill

EastWest Records: 1996

Overlooked? Bypassed? Forgotten? Not words I’d assign to Pantera’s eighth fourth album, but it doesn’t surprise me that The Great Southern Trendkill is sometimes deemed as such. It’s coming off a streak of critically-hailed, genre-defining LPs, the sort of peak few metal bands ever achieve in such a short period of time, much less maintain for a lengthy career. And Pantera had been in the game for well over a decade at this point, noticeable cracks forming from the stresses of so much success. Singer/growler Phill Anselmo was growing erratic during their live shows, rising tensions with the other band members to such a degree they had to record in separate studios. Also, thrash metal in general was on a downslide by the mid-‘90s, much of the old guard unable to keep pace as younger upstarts like Korn were taking metal down different roads. Pantera had proved incredibly adaptable though, and The Great Southern Trendkill was as good a point to reaffirm their place in metal’s domain. I’d say they succeeded, impressions of the time be damned.

What works in this album’s favor is Pantera’s willingness to mix things up again, to go acoustic and mellow more often. That doesn’t stop them from getting all out aggro though, the opening titular cut as vicious an assault of thrash as any metal committed to disc - mid-track, they get back to the groove jam with a kick-ass Dimebag solo that’s oh-so delicious. There’s nary a weak cut following it either, tunes capably mixing between funky rhythmic rock (Drag The Waters), sludgy blues odes (10’s), and heavy thrash stompers (13 Steps To Nowhere). I’m also surprised that Anselmo did his recordings in a totally different studio than the rest of Pantera, because he sounds just as locked in as ever. No matter his issues outside music, guy could still deliver when called upon.

Things get quite interesting in the second half, where Pantera show some new tricks in the crafting of an album. Suicide Note is presented in two parts, the first an acoustic country-blues ballad which was sure to throw fans of Vulgar Display Of Power quite for a loop. As Part 1 ends on something of a cinematic note, Part 2 erupts with as much ferocity as Pantera has ever shown. Definitely among the best one-two punches in Pantera history.

Great Southern Trendkill mostly ends on a run of thrash, with a detour to the epic metal of Floods, something of a return in tone to Cemetery Gates. It has the acoustic passages, groove metal portions, and a lovely solo at the end that fades out into the heavy monster riffs of The Underground Of America. Floods is a good tune, but it seems Anselmo had to try his voice at the ‘grunge warble’, sounding off to my ears. Stick to the southern drawl, yo’.

Still, Great Southern Trendkill ends Pantera’s ‘90s run strong, an emphatic exclamation mark. Tragic so much of their story fell apart after.

Various - Garden State (Music From The Motion Picture)

Epic: 2004

I don’t know anything about this movie. I think I recall the title from somewhere, but no details about Garden State sparks the recollection synapses. Who the stars were, the director was, the plot, not even the year it was released. Just based on the tracklist, I assume it came out early 2000s, what with names like Coldplay, Zero 7, and Thievery Corporation included. The cover has me thinking it’s about a group of young adults doing something quirky in the hopes of giving their meaningless lives meaning. Or maybe they’re trying to take a stand against the man in a Surrey New Jersey park? Guessing the former though – seems to be a running theme with all these soundtracks lately.

I could pop over to Deity IMDB for a little knowledge-drop regarding Garden State, but where’s the fun in that? It’d only lead to another bog-standard soundtrack review: giving a plot synopsis, what I think of it, and hastily going over the actual music before self-imposed word count runs out. Nah, how about I instead give the CD a once-over, make an assumed guess of what Garden State’s about, then see if Deity IMDB proves how accurate I was. Yeah, let’s do that.

Coldplay’s Don’t Panic opens things up. I wouldn’t say this is Coldplay at their Coldplayiest, because that’s just a lazy, cliché way of describing a Coldplay song, no matter how apt. Two tracks from The Shins crop up early, who I do remember being rather big on the indie scene; wouldn’t surprise me if this movie helped. A whole lot of ultra-soft rock and Americana folk make their way in, including Nick Drake’s One Of These Things First, which I remember most for a commercial (I think?). Whoa, Colin Hay, the lead singer Men At Work, had a solo career too? I’ll be darned. Simon & Garfunkel are also here, absolutely, always a solid option for a ‘coming of age’ movie. All these sensitive acoustic musicians make Thievery Corporation’s Lebanese Blonde stand out like an ethnic-flavored thumb, and I’ve no idea how it fits within this movie’s context. Most of these songs have me picturing the cast laying about cuddling on couches, looking out rainy windows, strolling through saturated neighborhoods, and involving themselves in deep, philosophical questions about what it means to be a young adult in the new millennium. Works for Zero 7 and Frou Frou (re: Imogen Heap), but the Thievery Corps.?

Anyhow, let’s see what Garden State’s really about. *clickity-clickity-clack* Ah, hmm, it’s a Zach Braff vehicle (aka: that guy from Scrubs). Wow, passion project, more like. I wasn’t too far off in my plot assumptions either; also is a movie where the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope got its legs. No wonder the music felt chipper, yet also a tad mopey and insufferable. Natalie Portman’s in this, as is Ian Holm and… Method Man?? Wait, you got yourself a Wu-Tang member, and didn’t have any Wu joints in your score? Poor form, Zach.

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.

Various - Empire Records: The Soundtrack

A&M Records: 1995

A ‘90s movie centered on the exploits of a record store seemingly run by teenagers? Pft, pass. Hackers was my regrettable tackle at Gen-X culture, though if Empire Records’ soundtrack had focused on techno instead of alternative rock, maybe I’d have paid it attention. Look, my dedication to electronic music was unshakable, ain’t no way Teenage Sykonee would sway to the sounds his younger sister indulged in. Ooh, wait, sis’, can I borrow that Beastie Boys Ill Communication CD inexplicably in your collection? I need Sabotage for a mixtape.

No, I didn’t get this soundtrack from her (she did have it though). This comes from another lady of comparable age, and it seems several grown gals have a thing for Empire Records. It’s gotta’ be because of Liv Tyler on the cover, wearing that impossibly cute, navel-exposing blue fuzz sweater and plaid mini-skirt, holding back with authori-tah a rag-tag group of peers, co-workers, besties and frienemies. The Ethan Hawke-hot sensitive friend, the promiscuous blonde, the Pauly Shore quirky guy, the nihilistic authentic Gen-X philosopher, the kinda’ gothic depressive. Mmm… Robin Tunney, with or without shaved head…

I get the sense folks remember Empire Records for what they think the movie represents (alas, their youth!), rather than what actually happens in the movie. Because not a whole lot happens in the movie, and most of what does happen is so filled with stock teenage-lite comedy situations and tropes, you could plunk these characters and plot into any setting and it’d tell the same story. A video store, a restaurant, a civic centre, an arcade, wherever it is teenagers go for employed hang-outs now. The angle of a record store is wholly wasted, no one giving insight into the retail music industry or tunes they’re playing and supposedly enjoying. Not that it’s the fault of the scriptwriter or actors, Empire Records striking me as the sort of movie studio-meddled to make it as appealing to the broad teenage demographic as possible. Heck, the soundtrack probably wasn’t even finalized before shooting began, so how could there be any dialog regarding these Gen-X jams of the day?

Even the collection of tunes is lackluster as a cultural touchstone. Some notable markers do make the cut, like The Cranberries, Gin Blossoms, Better Than Ezra, and Toad The Wet Sprocket. Edwyn Collins’ A Girl Like You was a memorable hit at the time (so Bowie!), while it’s hard to forget the movie-climax performance of cast member Coyote Shivers’ Sugarhigh. With a surefire teen hit on their hands (*cough*), A&M Records hoped Empire Records would expose some of their obscure acts (Drill, Lustre, Ape Hangers, Innocence Mission). Much of it sounds like stock alternative rock, punk, and folk of the mid-’90s to my ears, with many of these bands not doing anything beyond the era (so sayeth The Discogs). But hey, nostalgia for even the blandest of ‘90s paraphernalia can get you vinyl reissues these days. Do they have the Liv Tyler ensemble at Hot Topic too?

The White Stripes - Elephant

V2: 2003

The White Stripes are the greatest rock band of the last twenty years, if you were to ask any long-time follower of that scene. Like, I’m talking long-time, since at least the late ‘60s. In one fell swoop, Jack and Meg obliterated any and all developments, nuances, dalliances, diversion, explorations, and permutations of rock music, bringing the scene back to its simple, garage roots. More punk than punk, more blues than grunge; punting the pretentions of prog, nuking the new wave for some old wave. Um, making metal mobsolete? Help me out here, guys and gals.

Mr. & Ms. White weren’t the only musicians making garage rock, but they were the first to connect with that all-important “yoof” demographic, breaking out of obscurity with a flurry of memorable videos on MTV (and almost single-handily making Lego cool again). Soon after, all manner of garage rock bands entered the airwaves. With a quickly crowding scene, however, come increased demands and expectations on the perceived leaders, to prove they deserve their perch upon the podium of classic rock’s saviors. Whether by circumstance or design, Elephant was destined to be The White Stripes’ Statement Album. They were no longer the plucky upstarts out of Detroit, but a force the world of old rock was hanging their hopes on. Plus, y’know, no pressure from signing on a major label, one offering a vinyl roll-out when the format was practically toast. Nope, no pressure at all. Good thing Jack White’s obsessive enough of an artist to get the job done, then.

Yeah, they smashed it out of the park, Elephant earning all the plaudits, praise, and rock awards. And though it couldn’t sustain the garage rock mini-revolution for much longer (folks getting all up in that Coldplay shi’…), the album’s held up greatly, thanks in huge part to the raw, unvarnished quality the Stripes deliberately utilized. The liner notes proudly proclaims no computers were used in the production, with only vintage analogue gear for the recording process and self-imposed time-frame for studio sessions (ten days!). They wanted this sounding as authentic to the garage bands of the mid-‘60s as possible post-millennium, and damn if they didn’t succeed. Fortunately, they also gave the tracks plenty of heft, such that the raw, grainy distortion and thumping drum kits are rich and full, nothing over-compressed and flat; timeless, and all that. Take that, Red Hot Chili Peppers!

Seven Nation Army was the big hit off here, but I’ve been rather blasé about it all these years. Too monotonous throughout, y’see, though definitely kick-ass lyrics. Nah, I prefer these Stripes when they just rock the f’ out (Black Math; Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine; Hypnotize), or get right-proper blues heavy and sludgy (There’s No Home For You Here; Ball And Biscuit; I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself). And dammit, the acoustic jam with Holly Golightly at the end is just too adorable, in spite of the depressing topic. Country in a nutshell, eh?

Lorenzo Montanà - Eilatix

Psychonavigation Records: 2013/2015

Mr. Montanà was pretty set with Fax +49-69/450464: a couple of albums, nearly a half-dozen collaborations with label head Pete Namlook. Guy could probably have rode his entire career with the seminal print had it not been for Mr. Kuhlmann’s unfortunate untimely death. With no other choice but to shutter their doors, Fax+’s closing left ol’ Lorenzo temporarily homeless. There were undoubtedly several options and opportunities for the Italian producer to find another label, but perhaps he sensed proper kinship with this plucky, off-the-radar print out of Dublin, Ireland. One that took direct inspiration from Namlook’s work in their chosen name, and even had a fondness for the Fax+ sounds of old, often leaning retro with their ambient techno. Besides, it’d be another year before the true Fax +49-69/450464 successors launched (Carpe Sonum Records). May as well make a bed with these Psychonavigation guys, see how things turn out.

None too shabby, now three albums deep for Keith Downey’s print. They must have been more popular than anticipated too, what with only being released as limited CDr and all. Like, I know Mr. Montanà came from Fax+, but that doesn’t mean you must honor Namlook’s strict limitation runs as well. Right, small label, CDs aren’t as popular, etc. Fortunately there was enough interest in Lorenzo’s earlier contributions to Psychonavigation that a reissue was inevitable. And wouldn’t you know it, Mr. Montanà had just released his third LP for the label, so why not bundle them all together for a spiffy 3CD pack titled Trilogy? Making things simple for all the new comers and late adopters, now don’t it? (*cough*)

Eilatix was the first of these albums, and just so happens to be first alphabetically too. Don’t you just love it when things coincidentally align as the planets and stars do on a cool summer eve? No, this simile is applicable, because the music within is very brisk and chill, minimal ambient acid and dub techno for nights out under a full moon, lounging in a lawn chair huddled within a dew-speckled blanket, the sparkle of distant suns glimmering in your eyes. Wow, did I get carried away with this descriptor. Eilatix isn’t that evocative.

The album was billed as a follow-up to Lorenzo’s work with Namlook, so I’m assuming its referencing the Labyrinth series, which I’ve never heard. However, without that frame of reference, I actually came into Eilatix figuring this a follow-up to Mr. Montanà’s solo work on Fax+, Serpe, and I cannot deny some feelings of disappointment. There was a significant leap in crafstmanship between his first two albums, while this feels like a regression of sorts, less about pushing his boundaries in favor of a simple, modest album, ears fixated on the era of early Apollo and HIA. It works in that regard, but man, just when things are warming up and getting good, Eilatix ends, Temporary Light a big tease to what could have been. Still, quite pleasant as background music. Play it during your stargazing ventures.

Dronny Darko & protoU - Earth Songs

Cryo Chamber: 2015

I find dark ambient’s at its best when it provides a narrative, a musical sequence of mood, atmosphere and tone akin to an audio novel or documentary. Okay, so I think all music is best served as such, but this genre seems tailor-made for it. Catchy earworms? Shuffle-tastic beats? Sing-along lyrics? Get out of here with such foolish diversions, we’ve a tale to tell, and have no need of dance numbers and staged musical distractions. Not when there’s outworld realms to explore, frigid tundra to trek, sojourns of the psyche to survey, occult rituals to observe, and ruined societies to unearth. Or, in the case of this collaboration between Dronny Darko and protoU, telling nothing less than the entire history of the universe! Talk of ambition.

I’m not even kidding. Earth Songs contains seven tracks, each demarcated by an approximate date of setting within this narrative. The opener is Explosion (13.8 billion years ago), because if your scope is all of Earth’s existence, you may as well start at the beginning of everything. No planet, no congealed mass of space rocks and dust orbiting a hot, young star, not even a molecular cloud or stellar nursery drifting in a galaxy. We’re at a time when the very elements of the cosmos were still being crafted, the building blocks of all that we see and interact with finding its form. The music, such as it is, sounds rather like the droning ambience of a science show describing such a scene, or the weird landforms that Dave Bowman flew over after the trippy light show was done.

Since nothing much else happens in the development of Earth for a very, very long time, track two time-jumps some ten-billion years to Life Beneath The Surface (3.8 billion years ago). Not only do we now have a planet, but stirrings of cognizant chemical reactions too! In something of a departure from Cryo Chamber’s typical bleak drone, this track is rather calm and soothing, ambient in its more traditional sense. It paints a promising, humble beginning for these songs of Earth, of unlimited potential. What’s with those sounds of footsteps though? Is some future explorer actually present? Aliens? Also, I’m not sure how scientifically accurate Darko and ‘U are being, considering next track, Riparian Forest (300 million years ago), has samples of song birds. I’m almost certain such animals didn’t exist that far back.

Desolate, ash-strewn Extinction (66 million years ago) is self-explanatory, almost a requisite track in this sort of album. Shortly after (astronomically speaking), we have Primate (50 million years ago), a bit more melodic and hopeful in tone, though definitely with an ominous edge to it. Something must have happened along the way, for we have Singularity (2045 AD) next, followed upon by Leaving Earth (2135 AD), as bleak of sci-fi drone as you’ll likely hear that’s not on a Sabled Sun album. Wait…, 2135… 2145… Oh my God, Earth Songs just might be a Sabled Sun prequel! (probably not)