Pretension is a dying label. Nine times out of ten, an individual who applies the term to a work of art is ignorant of change and progression in a familiar landscape. It’s easier to alienate something than it is to embrace it. Dismissing a work of art without first experiencing it as the author intended is both an insult to the time spent upon completion and the passion combined with labour that goes into every piece. It isn’t until a work has been given a fair chance that it can be rightfully judged. Hence the “pretentious” label: It appears often in the realm of music, where hip, in-the-knowers call foul on work they deem sub-par. Forgiveness and second chances are tough to come by, provided a first chance is even included in the knower’s manifesto. It is simpler to ignore than to dive headfirst into challenging territory. Alternatively, praise can also be handed out too copiously, leaving the playing field scarred and tattered with only patches of green grass amidst the speckles of unfertilized dirt. If one style of music proves successful, a number of imitators are expected to leech upon such success. It’s a tough call in this business, where weeding through the diamonds in search of a gem becomes difficult with each passing album. Even artists with a crystalline trajectory trip sporadically, so it’s always a good call to experience rather than expect. This is how Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson will win you over with their surprising and far from ritualistic offering. With patience and an open mind, Sunn O)))‘s Monoliths & Dimensions will mesmerize, enchant, and rearrange the tides.
It’s difficult getting into a Sunn O))) album. The heavily distorted guitar and bass lurch like thickened molasses over a twisted edge, simultaneously blackening Earth‘s sonic template and expanding into murkier territory. Records are less about listening and more about experience. If last year’s vinyl-only Dømkirke live recording taught any one lesson, it would have explained the modus operandi to virgin ears. Akin to other, more lurid forms of sensory enhancement, set and setting are crucial in understanding the doom/drone duo’s purpose. Experimentation with timbre, texture, and layering revealed an audibly verbose flirtation with unfamiliar elements; a promise for greater things in the future. No longer could the chords ring forever and a day.
Monoliths contains four tracks and clocks in at fifty-three minutes. This is sitting music, and far better with headphones. There are plenty of barely audible kinks and an ever-present ambience circling every track like a vulture over the Arizonan desert. It will be difficult growing accustomed to the fact that a song is over fifteen minutes in length, but when the proceedings evolve into preceedings, it is easy to question why the track couldn’t have been longer. “Aghartha” opens the album familiarly. Bass and guitar intertwine into a massive drone of varying notes. No percussion, no extras. This is Sunn O))) at its most recognizable, toasting amplifiers and eardrums to the tune of armageddon. But wait: Something ominous rings in the background. Something screeching and halting like an Industrial era blast-furnace pores its way to the surface near the five minute mark and, lo and behold, serves to not only quiet the booming chords to form a lush spoken-word passage, but also act as an indicator of melody. Further endorsing this audio conquistador is “Big Church,” which utilizes sermons, church bells, and a magnificent choir to match and explore tone and timbre in a variety of unconventional ways. Multiple female choral voices are given different pitches so that they resemble diminished chords, yielding a sound reminiscent of a rampant violin in the vein of that featured in Alfred Hitchcock‘s Psycho. “Hunting and Gathering (Cydonia)” features what might be their first bona fide riff, breaking into horn-accentuated dirges that wouldn’t sound out of place accompanying Harrison Ford as he runs through scenes in Blade Runner. The track manages to harken back into ancient times while tipping the hat to Goblin.
For thirty-eight minutes, Sunn O))) throw enough curve balls to shock and satisfy longtime listeners and the curious-minded alike. Pretty good stuff for a band that manages to sound the same on all their releases. Then “Alice” strolls in. It would be a crime and a shame to ruin this track by trying to describe it in words. Briefly, it manages to be as beautiful and haunting as anything ever written by Sigur Ros. It’s as mindfully majestic as Explosions in the Sky and Do Make Say Think. It even manages to evoke the lo-fi feeling evident in some of the best Microphones songs. It’s understandable that these connections make no sense in writing. These bands should have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Their ethos, their presentation, and their genres are all completely different from one another, but they all demand to be heard. Each demands to be recognized as an experience. The boys from LA have created what will undoubtedly call foul on every facet of the community they represent, but without doing so, one of the most amazing journeys in sound couldn’t be shared with the world.
A lot of listening time was put into this record, and each separate spin revealed a new layer and something to shiver over. If music at its purest is a visceral, instinctual trigger based on the multitude of modes acting within a single note, then Sunn O))) is guiding masses to the path of righteousness.
(8.7/10)
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