Comus - First Utterance (metal, rock, albums, fan, Atmosphere)

Davey Moore · 04-30-2009, 06:07 PM

Picture, if you will, mist seething in an emerald field. Picture an angel coming down from heaven, a flaming sword in hand. Picture the seventh seal being broken. Picture birth. Picture the current running through a crowd the instant before a riot breaks out. Picture the rubble and debris of a city scarred by warfare. This is First Utterance.

It’s almost a paradox for an experimental album to sound timeless. There is nothing about this album that suggests ‘seventies.’ Hell, there is nothing about this album that suggests 20th century. And so it goes, a mighty strange theme is established immediately as the sound waves first hit your brain. Violent acoustic acid trips will be the order of the day. This will be a very strange, very anxious and confusing trip. Scary. Exhilarating. Beautiful.

This album opens like a book with a sledgehammer of an opening sentence. If a strung-out band of leprechaun minstrels in the 1700s played like Sonic Youth on full attack mode, it would be reminiscent of how this album opens. And I mean that in the best way possible. It’s such a foreign and strange way to begin an album that it works as a hook, keeping you on board, wanting to see this thing through. If a beat can be perverse in nature, then, this is it.

If anything, the first song was but a prelude, a preview for what is to come, because as it fades away, a new tone is established, one of beauty, one that sounds an angel choir in heaven. But as everything must, it fades, and the mood once again shifts. I see tumbleweed making its way through the ruins of a ghost town, cactus and shimmering heat waves just above the ground. This is the sound of a mind being torn apart, going from one place to another, one scene of anxiety to another, and it all seems to flow, and retain its beauty in the process.

The key to this album is Eisenstein’s Theory of Montage. Though that theory was created specifically for cinema, it works equally well with other forms of media. The juxtaposition of images and sounds to create a desired effect. The constant shift of mood and melody on this album creates a montage sort of atmosphere. Schizophrenic is another way to say it too, a beautiful jumbled schizophrenic document.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

- T.S. Eliot

After reassessment I give this a 8.9/10

04-30-2009, 06:07 PM	#1 (permalink)
Davey Moore The Great Disappearer Join Date: Apr 2008 Location: URI Campus and Coventry, both in RI Posts: 462	Comus - First Utterance Picture, if you will, mist seething in an emerald field. Picture an angel coming down from heaven, a flaming sword in hand. Picture the seventh seal being broken. Picture birth. Picture the current running through a crowd the instant before a riot breaks out. Picture the rubble and debris of a city scarred by warfare. This is First Utterance. It’s almost a paradox for an experimental album to sound timeless. There is nothing about this album that suggests ‘seventies.’ Hell, there is nothing about this album that suggests 20th century. And so it goes, a mighty strange theme is established immediately as the sound waves first hit your brain. Violent acoustic acid trips will be the order of the day. This will be a very strange, very anxious and confusing trip. Scary. Exhilarating. Beautiful. This album opens like a book with a sledgehammer of an opening sentence. If a strung-out band of leprechaun minstrels in the 1700s played like Sonic Youth on full attack mode, it would be reminiscent of how this album opens. And I mean that in the best way possible. It’s such a foreign and strange way to begin an album that it works as a hook, keeping you on board, wanting to see this thing through. If a beat can be perverse in nature, then, this is it. If anything, the first song was but a prelude, a preview for what is to come, because as it fades away, a new tone is established, one of beauty, one that sounds an angel choir in heaven. But as everything must, it fades, and the mood once again shifts. I see tumbleweed making its way through the ruins of a ghost town, cactus and shimmering heat waves just above the ground. This is the sound of a mind being torn apart, going from one place to another, one scene of anxiety to another, and it all seems to flow, and retain its beauty in the process. The key to this album is Eisenstein’s Theory of Montage. Though that theory was created specifically for cinema, it works equally well with other forms of media. The juxtaposition of images and sounds to create a desired effect. The constant shift of mood and melody on this album creates a montage sort of atmosphere. Schizophrenic is another way to say it too, a beautiful jumbled schizophrenic document. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. - T.S. Eliot After reassessment I give this a 8.9/10 __________________ The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. Last edited by Davey Moore; 05-25-2009 at 07:28 PM.