A steady buzz has been building around San Francisco’s Barn Own since the release of their debut album “From Our Mouths A Perpetual Light.” That album moved the parameters of doom from two guys with a shit load of tube amps to gentle, but equally ominous, soundscapes of acoustic guitars and minor drones. The album was more interesting for what it proposed than what it actually delivered.
Since that time, the duo, consisting of Evan Caminiti and Jon Porras, have produced a live album, two solo albums and now their new studio work “The Conjuror.”
“The Conjuror” begins with “Into the Red Horizon,” a piece similar to Earth’s groundbreaking “Hex: Or Printing In The Infernal Method,” maybe too similar. The difference though is that unlike Earth’s Dylan Carlson, who split the difference equally between doom and country twang on “Hex,” Barn Owl have upped the quotient of doom. The next piece, “Across the Deserts of Ashes” eschews the percussive doom of “Horizon” but begins by maintaining some of the rural twang until it is slowly undermined by a menacing and shimmering guitar soundscape. The piece ends with haunting choral-like vocals that recall Popol Vuh and their very best. “Procession of the Bones” finds the band returning to their rural doom, with a few more acoustic flourishes. The album ends with “Ancient of Days.” The piece begins with some beautifully dour Fahey-like acoustic pluckings before descending into a subtle but steady drone. Again, choral-like voices return, but this time they sound like weakened disembodied spirits, calling out from a deep dark hole in the earth. The song ends with piano, providing a resolution to all the doom that has come before that is probably best left to the interpretation of each individual listener. In the end “The Conjuror” makes for an immersive listening experience and one that more than delivers on the promise of the band’s previous work.
“The Conjuror” is only a portion of Caminiti and Porras’ recent productivity. Both Caminiti and Porras have released solo albums this year. Caminiti records under his own name, while Porras under the moniker Elm. Porras’ Elm recently released the “Nemcatacoa.”
“Nemcatacoa” opens with the ominous title track, a song that sounds like Earth interpreted by Loren Mazzacane Connors backed up by Greg Anderson of Sunn 0))). The piece makes it clear that this is doom, but it is doom turned down, gently plodding its way through a cold dark wood, rather than ripping the earth out from under your feet in the vein of Sunn 0))) or Moss. The piece is also a bit of a tease, since what follows through the remainder of the album mostly consists of gentle acoustic finger picking comfortably sitting next to or on top of ominous drones. This formula of acoustic guitar married with drone does threaten the uniqueness of Elm. We have heard this set up before with Ben Chasny’s Six Organs of Admittance and countless imitators. One would even be forgiven for mistaking “Silver Dust in Moonlight,” a piece that flirts with medieval guitar flourishes in the face of an ever increasing threatening drone and eventually breaks into a blistering electric guitar attack as one of Chasny’s. What saves Elm is the amazingly consistent quality of the record. Porra is able to lay down haunting acoustics and incredible drones that stand far above the cluttered crowd left in Chasny’s wake. He may not reinvent the wheel, but Porras’ Elm is immensely compelling. Porras does change his palate for the final two pieces, “Three Rings Drawn in Sand,” an album highlight, and “Deep Mirage,” both begin with Hecker-like waves of sound that continuously build before crashing back down to earth in drops of acoustic tones. Again, it isn’t necessarily unique given the blueprint already created by Hecker and Fennesz, but it is effective and stunningly beautiful.
Broken into four pieces, similar to the structure of “Conjuror” Caminiti’s album, “Psychic Mud Shrine,” is the noisier of the three, and by noise, I don’t mean Wolf Eyes noisy, I mean he plays his electric guitar drones at a louder more discordant level than Porras does and with fewer acoustic interludes. It is also the least varied. The album begins with a jagged piece of guitar squall entitled “Frozen Plains.” The song recalls Neil Young’s infamous “Dead Man” soundtrack, but more fleshed out and realized than Young’s sound-sketches. “Melting Temple/Plumes of Babylon” follows and continues in the vein of “Plains” with a blues inflected guitar drone. The nearly 20 minute piece finds Caminiti switching things up though. The drone gives way to percussive bells and a string accompaniment that recalls Indian violinist Shankar’s work. The piece eventually gives way to the dark acoustic picking that defines both Caminiti and Porras’ work individually and collectively. The third piece “Midnight’s Road” is the most interesting on the album, unfortunately it is the shortest as well. Beginning with a pulsating guitar note that is reminiscent of John Carpenter’s soundtrack for “The Thing,” Caminiti builds layers of acoustic and electric finger picking over a steadily growing drone. The drone eventually overcomes everything else creating the album’s most intense moment just before it completely cuts out. The album ends with “Kclab Egdol” another guitar based drone that builds and builds until the song’s horizon blurs into a single grey field before revisiting Shankar-like strings and acoustic guitar picking over what is left of a shimmering receding drone. Overall Caminiti’s album is the least compelling of the three, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fascinating and well worth while, it is just that when compared to his work in Barn Owl and Porras’ Elm, it comes up short, but just by a hair. All three albums illustrate that both men, together and separately, are worth at least some of the buzz they have generated and I can only imagine them expanding their sound and making even greater works in the future
Barn Owl live at the 2009 On Land festival
Barn Owl live
No comments:
Post a Comment