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As 2009 passes into the distance, we feel duty bound to draw readers' attention to some of the releases that either passed us by or simply hid in a corner until January 1st. One good place in which to tidy a few odds and ends would be the 2009 catalog of Moscow's Russian Association of Independent Genres (RAIG), which can always be relied upon for arresting and challenging material.
Over the course of 2009, RAIG - beyond those CDs we did showcase - released three instrumental albums of a similar outlook by Endname, Psi Corps (both Moscow-based) and Rain Tongue (Briansk). The first of these ensembles, a self-declared "instrumental art-metal outfit," have been in existence since 2007 when they were brought together by guitarists Sergo Meshidze and Sergei Kaplin. They would later be joined by drummer Dmitrii Musatov, plus Sergei Podgornyi on bass and keyboards. More than content to be categorized as proud exponents of doom metal, they have on occasion been compared to Chicago's Pelican, or Oakland's Neurosis. They currently, however, find themselves moving away from all generically discernible structures, gravitating instead towards ambient field recordings or pure noise.
Keen to avoid even those pigeonholes, a side project known as Somny is also dabbling with techno.
Left to their own devices, the band will currently claim to be experimenting in between "such genres as sludge, drone and post-metal. At the heart of their creative processes lie some devastating guitar riffs, rough song-structures, pure feelings, and lots of raw emotion. The band's instrumental canvas is filled with aggression and [on rare occasion] lyrics, too. It's all recommended to a large number of listeners!"
The two Endname tracks included in this post come from the band's first official full-length album, "Dream of a Cyclops," the cover art for which can be seen above. With tracks averaging between six and thirteen minutes in length, the CD is an attempt to investigate a "style of dense instrumental post-doom-sludge metal with electronic accents that together create a generally bleak atmosphere." The intended - and apparently numerous - audience members for this melange are people who enjoy a "guitar-saturated brand of experimental-art-metal. They tend to appreciate the absence of vocals."
And the marked presence of volume.
The recording has been well received by the kind of European webzines that appreciate "doom-sludge" riffs and "keyboard sounds so big they could fill a huge hall!" Another kindred net-publication, this time from Norway, spoke with equal admiration and enthusiasm, but hoped that the "Eastern European origins of this album won't force this band out of history." It is hard to know exactly what's meant by that remark; we presume it refers to geographical or linguistic distances - and therefore difficult distribution and PR. Nonetheless, there does seem to be a most Russian aspect to this recording's central credo, too, in particular the idea that only by removing lyrics can one hope to produce hall-filling music worthy of a discerning audience. And instrumentals do not generally sell well, increasing the likelihood that "Dream of a Cyclops" might, perhaps, be "forced out of history."
Endname's moniker alone suggests an enduring interest in what lies beyond the last page of the dictionary, as do their listed tracks, with titles such as "Eclipse," "Beyond the Scope," and "Dissociation." Given, to boot, their love for doom metal, we find ourselves knee-deep in musings on life's brevity and whether anything beyond that brief existence can even be the subject of a song. A small gallery of images at the band's MySpace page, entitled "Soul," ponders such matters. Most of the images are devoid of people, talking or otherwise.
Extending these "supra-linguistic" expressive possibilities - and further investigating the philosophical import of instrumentals - are the second Moscow outfit, Psi Corps. This project must first be traced back to the efforts of Alisa Coral, shown below in a recent photograph and a part-time bassist/keyboard player in a number of metal outfits around the capital.
Unhappy with the unavoidable compromises caused by playing in collectives, she decided relatively early in her career to go solo - in 2001. What resulted in her subsequent DIY efforts was less the roar and thunder of those previous ensembles than a more introspective form of music, documented in one location as "a cold, sorrowful and sometimes sinister ambience, not dissimilar to a kind of Gothic-industrial or post-industrial exercise."
These same exercises gradually led to the project known as Space Mirrors, which marked an unexpected return to the drama of early outings, in fact an aesthetic voluntarily referred to as "infernal, apocalyptic space rock!" Space Mirrors would also spawn Psi Corps, a collective positioned in between the extremes of anything infernal or ambient. In fact Coral promotes the third and fourth tracks in this post, written by Psi Corps, as a mix of "dark rock, Kraut rock, and progressive rock, together with experimental and cinematic/ambient aspects."
In structural terms, then, Endname spend much time and energy pondering the ineffable through Gothic imagery; Space Mirrors resort more to cosmic registers, albeit in no less worrying terms. It's the role of Psi Corps to investigate an intermediary state.
The role of a self-proclaimed explorer.
Just as with Endname, Psi Corps' 2009 release for RAIG was a debut outing, in this case called "Tekeli-li." The title comes from the noise made by a mythical polar bird in Edgar Allan Poe's "Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket.” Poe's longest work and arguably his strangest, the novel tells of explorations in arctic domains, where common assumptions of geography, race, and nature no longer hold true.
The bird's call can, perhaps, be seen as designating the kind of place that - because of its extreme unfamiliarity - has no normal referent. Illogicality has no name; it defies categorization. Places unknown, be they moribund, galactic, or arctic, have never been encountered before, and they therefore need either to be labeled for the first time (using neologisms such as "tekeli-li") or left to silence altogether.
Hence, it seems, the reason why Endname would speak so highly of fans who "appreciate" wordless compositions. Serious fans have serious matters to consider - and they are best contemplated beyond the scope of speech.
Alisa Coral and her colleagues in Psi Corps (whose very name suggests advancement into indefinable realms) declare that the "adventurous, exploratory" spirit of the debut CD "is more focused on the scenes and characters behind a structure." In other words, it makes no claim towards simple, structural clarity, but hopes at least to evoke the presence and spirit of those brave individuals who do try and map the (dangerous, possibly fatal) unknown.
"As a whole," says Carol, "the music sounds misty, obscured and rarefied, albeit in excitingly familiar ways." What may lie beyond our expressive capabilities are phenomena we all may ponder, making them "familiar," but the significance of those of ineffable states "excites" or worries us all in individual ways.
As a whole, the music sounds misty, obscured and rarefied, albeit in excitingly familiar ways.
Third in our instrumental trilogy are Rain Tongue from Briansk, an industrial town maybe 200 miles to the south of Moscow. Having already produced seven CDs under the name of "Teatr Tenei" (Theater of Shadows), they've been known as Rain Tongue (Iazyk dozhdia) for the last five years. As opposed to our first two bands, therefore, at least three members of of this quartet are clearly experienced: Dmitrii Bulavintsev, Konstantin Isaev, and Aleksei Ivanov.
The initial CDs, published as Teatr Tenei, are now looked upon as youthful experiments in "song-oriented indie-rock with Russian lyrics. Sadly the recordings all remain little-known..." Now free of any such linguistic or generic constraints, Rain Tongue - again as with Endname and Psi Corps - feel themselves able to construct a "fanciful bridge between melodic art rock and dreamy post-rock."
The sky's the limit.
Rain Tongue, in a word, have also left language behind. That silence, married to their more worldly experience, produces not "the limitation of one particular approach, but rather the embracing of a wide range of possibilities - to create music full of beauty, joy and conciliation. Melodic hooks abound, the harmonies shine, and the instrumentation is dazzling... without being overdone. The music has an unfailingly romantic, bittersweet air. It is somehow balanced between moments of driving craftsmanship and quiet repose."
This, it would seem, is the importance of Rain Tongue's release in the context of RAIG's 2009 instrumental catalog. Endname rush with bold, often masochistic intent into realms that may bring nothing more than self-destruction; Psi Corps, full of admiration for such explorers, nonetheless hope for more philosophically beneficial results, perhaps on a "cosmic," revelatory scale. Such is the see-saw of youthful romance and its heady vacillation between hope and despair, matter and spirit. In time, though, moderation and a "bittersweet" outlook will hopefully prevail, allowing room for both negative and positive experiences without the driven need to assail one sphere or the other.
Rain Tongue, being gentlemen of a slightly more advanced age - and residents of quieter streets than those of Moscow - might bring a little realism to the dramatic romance of Endname and Psi Corps. It is only by placing them together, however, that the value of each recording is fully revealed - as the slowly constructed, "fanciful bridge" of a biography that Rain Tongue describe. It runs not so much from desire to elusive, ineffable regret, but from romance to realization and ultimately to mature reconciliation. It aims for - and reaches - a sense of sage acceptance that's no easier to describe than outer space or snowy wastes.
It's also a sense of wonder that the humblest of natural surroundings can reproduce. Or a copy of "Eugene Onegin."
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