The sound of plighted mountainside breaking way; networks upon rooted
network giving up the ghost, muddy topsoil pushing mercilessly at bedrock’s
timid edge, the surrounding fog lining up to give what it can to this violent
transition. All of this, but from an ant’s eye view, in slow motion, two feet
below.
Japan’s Hakobune has countless (and stellar!) guitar-based
ambient-drone albums under his belt, all of which are lyrical and meditative in
their own special way, but this newest one via Constellation Tatsu is a bit
darker, heavier, slower, thicker; something like a boiling mudflow that refuses
to harden, scalding everything in its path. The balance between dissonance and
consonance, just like the task of isolating the (nearly) independent layers
(and their synchronicity) is a challenge for the most accomplished ear, and one
sure to harvest myriad outcomes, depending on depth/mood of listening.
and/or
-- Jacob
An Kittenplan
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