Monday, July 6, 2009
Rambutan - Broken Infinity (Stunned Records CD-R)
At last, back to the cherished blog reviews which have (disappointingly...) taken the back seat as of late in the name of epic bike trips--including a trip to the hospital--and subsequent multitudes of chillery on Great Island in Cape Cod despite less than ideal weather throughout. But surely no one's stopping by here for a vacation redux so I'll stick with my guns and talk tunage instead. Besides, some of these have been on the back burner far too long.
Pushing towards completing that last Stunned batch--the only one left, which will likely come later today, is the mammoth double cassette four-way split--I figured I'd jump right in with my man Eric and his Rambutan release. Always great to see good dudes released on good labels, and this release is the summation of goodage all around. Actually, this might well be my favorite Rambutan release since his debut on Tape Drift, presenting a fine full length of sprawling and moody guitar and electronics excursions whose effect is always greater than the sum of its parts. Hardiman has a way of conjuring some really mystical stuff, and tracks like the opening title number have that same sand-encrusted, desert stench that Rusted Prayers Converge did, reaching far along the tracks in hopes of that ever elusive solitude amidst the heat waves. "Middle Altar" starts with a murmur but is soon timidly reverberating microscopic columns of looped, raindrop enclosed wonders. Something new from the good doctor, and really a neat take on this kind of stuff, much more investigative and slight than a lot of those neu-Krautrock numbers.
Of course the followup lies in the aptly titled "Abandoned Night Cave," though I'd say this is more like an "Abandoned Night Abyss." The elevator don't stop at ground floor this ride, as sheets of hollow howls echo about in less than ideal conditions while the big demon himself wails his axe from beneath. Not sure if this is a concept album or what but "Returning to the Entrance" definitely coincides with the latter track, grinding back up toward the light (it's a long way to go) with every pull of the distorted rope and pulley system in hand. The closing "Cloudy Vision" definitely escapes the hot air vaults at last, though at this point your burned to such a fine crisp that you just evaporate into the air, carried across the mountains and rivers as pure energy. What an album, straight through. And of course, the beautiful cover art ain't nothing to scoff at.