ORRA “They Mean No Harm” C38 (Heavy Mess)

Orra might as well exist in another time, in the passages scrawled by those rascals the Grimm brothers, or perhaps in myths and legends of Anglo-Saxon history. They don’t exist now, when Donald Trump is on the verge of welcoming in a new weird era of glorious American prosperity and cultural definition from his gilded throne in the Oval Office; no, Orra prefers the forests and the earth – they have no interest in the progress that will clearly be thrust upon the world, the move-it-or-lose-it enthusiasm that is so desperately needed to kickstart the next stage of human evolution.

[*shocked and horrified emoji*]

I kid! Listen gang, we all know that it’s actually people like Jennifer Williams (Gossimer) and Sean Conrad (Ashan, Channelers, the dankest tape label, Inner Islands… besides, uh, Heavy Mess of course) who are going to press us all forward by harking back to a simpler time when human helping human was really the only way to survive. The rudiments of modern life would be present, I guess, in whatever systems people have concocted for themselves, but man, nobody goes into the woods alone, even in the daytime, ever ever ever. That’s what I’m getting at. That’s where Orra dwells, in the shadows, in the deep dark woods, where magic is real and your kids are not safe.

Orra’s clearly the good witch, though, spinning nifty white magic through their long-form electroacoustic minimalist pieces (not all descriptors mine, to avoid plagiarism claims by Heavy Mess’s press corps). Side A, “Glass Sisters,” really gives off that occult vibe, mysterious, heady, and otherworldly. Side B’s “Come Down the Night” features distant pulses, suggesting revels around campfires in distant clearings where pagans call on their nature gods to invoke their favor. You’re in your bed, though, in your home during these events – you can only imagine what’s happening out there.

They Mean No Harm, as a title, is likely the hands-raised, chill-out signal that it’s OK to listen to this music without fear of spiritual retribution. You’re in good company with Orra – they’ll guide you toward peaceful places, not toward the literal torments hinted at by Dante and others. I feel comfortable allowing them to weave their spells over me – I have no fear that they’re actually going to throw me in an oven or change me into some animal. Donald Trump, on the other hand, would probably eat me raw, without even cooking me properly. How very presidential of him!

Heavy Mess

--Ryan Masteller

ORRA “Into the Wind” C40 (Inner Islands)

We sit with our backs to the trunk of the broad oak and breakfast quickly in the twilight, before night falls and we must move again. “The Fog Has a White Tongue” (side A) and we feel it begin to obscure us from prying eyes in the near distance. We two are alone, and we have been for almost a month now. It’s difficult to tell – determining time has become a dismal art at best, and the sun and moon start and stop in the sky seemingly at random. We don’t know why the world has started to shift its relationship to us; we only know that we may be the only ones of our kind left, and as such may be the only ones that can stop it.

And we’re being followed. We don’t know by what.

The forests hide us in the day, and we sleep when we can. As soon as it is dark, the path beckons, and we douse our small fire and remove any sign of our passing. The combination of the fog and the gathering dusk allows us greater freedom of travel, but we must take care not to veer from the path. We numbered three once, but we no longer do – we lost a companion on the wild steppe before we came to the forest; he simply disappeared in the night without a sound. We dare not stray now – we have come too far. The path continues on.

And then the river meets us. It is wide – we can’t see the other side, but the fog obscures anything more than ten feet in front of us. A dinghy is moored to a small dock, and we must risk it – we don’t know how wide the river is, and we may not be able to ford it or cross it in any other way. An oil lantern hangs next to it, and surprisingly ignites on the first try. We throw our packs in the boat and cast off, rowing slowly and carefully in the evening silence. “The Water Is Black That Licks the Boat” (side B). Perhaps this crossing will throw our pursuer off our scent. Likely not, though – it has followed us across greater obstacles than this.

As my companion rows, I drift into uneasy sleep. I do not dream, my rest will be short. Indeed, I’m awakened by thunder in the distance – it’s miles away, perhaps behind a mountain. But we still can’t see, and the night has deepened. The fog persists. The river is wide. We cannot know when the shore will approach. We must be watchful.

(Pro-dubbed cassettes come in clear cases with full-color 3-panel J-cards. Orra is Jennifer Williams and Sean Conrad. “The long untold night between scenes of folklore, and the breath and ridged back of elements unseen.”)

http://innerislands.bandcamp.com/album/into-the-wind

--Ryan Masteller