To See Without Eyes
Cursed Monk Records
TBR: Feb 28th
Hailing from the subconscious gathered within the vibrational manifestation of matter which is Ruairi O'Baoighill, a distinct flavour of Irish ambience is collected and scored. The artist explores deep within his shadow self, meditating and absorbing the subtle reflections of spirit which linger in the darkness. With this inspired wisdom, music flows like a spring bubbling up from within the mountainous realms of personal emotivations. With six other titles released in just a short period of time, To See Without Eyes makes up part III of the seventh, the Rueayn trilogy. Unlike other works, the Rueayn trilogy is solely composed by O'Baoighill.
As the album begins, a timeless chorus of subtle yet distinctly resonant sounds begin to delicately churn and twist through a string like motion around a single key. Deep, throaty pangs wriggle up from the undergrowth and chime like heavy rusted gongs. Textures of lichen and dark fallen trees knit themselves in the imagination as the persistent and twilit beauty permeates the airwaves. The muffled effects masking peaks of sound elevate the hair-splitting variations that create an ever shifting tide of backgroundal radiance. Seed feels like we are perhaps thrust into the damp and boggy soil, and as we become saturated with the nutrient rich waters, something holding us within bursts open.
Sudden scratching urgency pins the sound down to one key phrase, alarming yet intriguing, a drum adds a regularity to the surfacing sensations. Pitch changes in awkward directions increase the oddity which the drum continues to pound and gather momentum. Hill Witch is a short number, striking and invigorating. The prickling energy is soon joined by Offering, perhaps something intended to calm the raging storm. A tribal and communicative drum begins to pound its message through the thick night air. Deep groans from symbolic onlookers enchant the walls of the drum-room with magical spell-craft before the trance takes hold. Forming a cushioned seat within the mind, a skyscraper of sound sits on foundations built on our collective soul memory.
Void enters with a melody, aptly slow and ghostly. A vast emptiness is drawn by the pencil of sound which opens out into eternal corridors of shimmering unrealness. A new sound finds a moment to reveal itself like the scratching of a partially woken foot on a rough surface, a dreamer walks further into an actuality of poignant nothing. A charm glistens like solitary beams of sun, highlighting the sharpness and edgy feel of the graceful and sliding passage of musical time. Illumination in the darkness brings warmth and a spine shivering knowing that we are among the shadows of great forests. The journey into eternal nothingness brings a sensation of being at peace, aware yet unable to reach further than the dream.
An addition of air is added to the mixture as avian like calls hurdle across the stereosphere. Consistent with the theme of the record, more layers of drone and sonic tapestry is threaded between the carrying sounds. Mindful and resonant, tinges of magic and mystery dress Scryer like twinkling robes. Looking into the crystal to see images and forms, the music brings distance to the foreground, travelling through time and space in order to place the jigsaw of intent together in ethereal lines and layers. This lengthy number inspires a dreamy journey through archaic shapes which kindle flames thought long gone out.
The Grand Rite begins, a windswept gort opens out before us as we're invited in to observe the sonic dance about to be unravelled. Angelic and earthly combine in a dual harmony of pitch, which slowly spirals in the middle section of audibility. Layers of gongs chime in disparate echoes that climb up from the vines of choral droning. Delicately placed bells give way to a snowy drama which gently scatters across varying sections before a culmination of intensities and pressures bring the track to a climax. A horn brings in the beginning of the next track.
Evoke is a shorter number, consisting of a shrill and epic wind instrument framed by pounding tribal drums. The breath rhythm in the percussion brings on an organic sensation and as the shrill pitch of the horn climbs on the shoulders of the pockets of air beneath it, vibrations trickle down from the sky. The herald of something greater in the air, a majesty of cosmic amplitude which hides invisibly behind the rain and mud.
As the album draws to a close with Seer, the memory of each track sits in the mind like rafts on a pond. The mixture of flare and colour which sublimely decorates each piece come together in one work of musical art that slowly fills the mental faculties with grains of glowing and interesting sand. We're taken to a place inside the depths of an old Irish soul, clawing at the modern day with wide eyes and a hunger for self realisation.
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Rowan Blair Colver for the Homunculus Media Group
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