Swans – Birthing Review

By Dear Hollow

It’s hard to keep up with Swans. Since 1982, Michael Gira and company have cranked out sixteen studio albums, eight EPs, and ten live albums (not to mention all the compilations and side projects), influencing underground stalwarts like Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Neurosis, Godflesh, and Napalm Death, as well as more mainstream acts like Nirvana and Tool. No genre was safe, as noise rock, no-wave, industrial, sludge, post-punk, and post-rock were impacted in the process – yet Swans have always had their own inimitable and uncategorizable sound. In Gira’s words, “Swans are majestic, beautiful-looking creatures – with really ugly temperaments.” Seventeenth studio album Birthing, a supposed end to the big sound of Gira’s millennial reformation, is an affirmation of both why some love them and why others stay far away. Maybe the real Swans were the friends we made along the way.

The path of Swans has been one of blending ugliness with a sheen of pristineness. They’ve had it all, from the ugly industrial sludge of Filth and Cop, the more regal industrial noise rock of Greed and Holy Money, the Gothic rock groovers of Children of God, the lush starkness of White Light from the Mouth of Infinity, the post-rock-imbued apocalyptic prophecies of The Great Annihilator and Soundtracks for the Blind, the trancelike 2010s comeback My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky, the formidably monolithic trilogy The Seer, To Be Kind, and The Glowing Man, to the minimalist folk-embedded Leaving Meaning and The Beggar. If you wanted to devote a week to the Swans discography, have at it. Or get into the process of Birthing.

In spite of its higher focus on more acoustic textures and Michael Gira’s wild baritone, Swans’ use of repetition is a tether to which their grasp of reality is consistently mutilated, interspersed with moments of sparse accessibility. Seven tracks and nearly two hours of content greet the ears with repetition both nauseating and hypnotic, tracks undeniably modern-era Swans: folkier, more acoustic and organic, and retaining that trademark longwindedness and industrial/noise barb, shifting from mood to mood with ease. You’ll hear painful dissonance, ritualistic passages of pounding percussion, Gira’s unnerving vocal lines, and synth-heavy crystalline atmosphere exchanged across mammoth runtimes. Especially in the first act, ugly stretches stitch together more uncanny valley passages of accessibility, like a synth rock jam session with pulsing basslines (“I Am a Tower”), beautiful piano ballads graced by spidery melodies and Jennifer Gira’s haunting vocals (“Birthing,” “Guardian Spirit”), catchy little choral “bum bums” (“The Merge”), and instrumental ambient swells (“The Healers,” “(Rope) Away”).

Gira and company find themselves in an odd predicament: in the shadow of their own influence. Swans has smartly focused on more acoustic and organic textures with their most recent releases, but in comparison to the 80’s and 90’s, and even the 2010s, Birthing cannot hold a candle. No one can do music like Swans, but it feels as though the trilogy of The Seer, To Be Kind, and The Glowing Man was Tsar Bomba, and every subsequent release has been the fallout. Likewise, the raining ash of Birthing is lethal, unnerving, and undeniably Swans, but it doesn’t feel as monumental. The only track that feels crucial is the absolute fever-dream “The Merge” in its wholehearted dive into the abyss. Each track features Swans-isms that sear themselves into your brain if you let them, but therein, very few moments justify why you should devote two hours to listening to them – especially if you are not a fan to begin with. Their focus has never been to be catchy, impress with riffs, or go wild with novelty – as such, the trademark tapestries of droning dissonance (“I Am a Tower,” “Guardian Spirit”), free jazz/industrial noise explosions (“The Merge”) are just difficult – aside from Swans’ inability to edit.

I may be Swans lone apologist at AMG HQ, and maybe I’m insane for it. Birthing is nowhere near the influence of its predecessors – while retaining that noise and industrial sneer throughout, it’s a far more gentle album than the ugly classics of the band’s heyday. However, it’s probably the best of its era, blending its bad temperament with its more post-rock atmospheres and semi-accessible passages that keep listeners this close to insanity. That being said, it’s still Swans. And a whole lot of Swans. Two hours of Swans. Yay/ugh.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Young God Records
Websites: swans.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/SwansOfficial
Releases Worldwide: May 30th, 2025

#2025 #35 #Ambient #AmericanMetal #Birthing #Experimental #ExperimentalAmbient #FreeJazz #Godflesh #GodspeedYouBlackEmperor #Industrial #May25 #NapalmDeath #Neurosis #Nirvana #NoWave #Noise #NoiseRock #NonMetal #PostRock #postPunk #Review #Reviews #SludgeMetal #Swans #Tool #YoungGodRecords

Bunsenburner – Reverie Review

By Dear Hollow

My relationship with Germany’s Bunsenburner grows with each release, and you could say it’s getting pretty serious, like a dark romantasy. I completely ripped third full-length Poise a new one which garnered the ire of mastermind Ben Krahl. But like any hate relationship that borders on masochistic, he saw the light and sent in follow-up Rituals – and our love blossomed. The act’s backbone lies in the fuzz and jam-sesh vibes of stoner metal, but with enough free jazz and crystalline ambiance to kill a full-grown elephant, it embraces the psychedelia in tasteful ways with instrumental prowess.

Reverie, then, is a continued honing of Bunsenburner’s seemingly scattershot influences, reflecting the pedigree of its contributors.1 While the free jazz of Rituals is certainly present, it is anchored by much-improved fuzzy stoner riffage a la Poise, owing a certain “thinking man’s jam sesh” vibe – oxymoronic or not. Reverie simply feels like a better form of Poise altogether, that the riffs are in the spotlight, but all atmospheric elements shine in enacting a psychedelic shimmer that adds to the weight and teleports it otherworldly planes. It’s the best album Bunsenburner has made, but then again, they made a song named after me. So.

Reverie’s best qualities amp the accessibility. The grooves are tighter, the songs shorter to enhance the effect, and there are still riffs I can’t get out of my head since. There are covers aboard Reverie,2 but Bunsenburner’s sound is so organic it could as easily have been original. As always, Bunsenburner has never felt lacking in its entirely instrumental approach, and with a better track formula focusing on organic movements from riff to riff, the stoner-focused track shine (“Gleam of the Goddess,” “Trigger,” “Catfight,” “Bagbak”) with a renewed urgency that hits hard and fast and doesn’t overstay its welcome, not to mention its trademark atmospheric tricks (e.g. flute in “TORO,” nintendocore synth in “Bagbak”). The jam sesh chemistry feels more palpable here, owing to a fuzz that doesn’t overwhelm and a rich rhythmic tapestry that adds to the replay factor. The album is forty-four minutes, with thirteen tracks to its name – only a handful of songs exceed the three-minute mark, which adds to the conciseness and punch.

A stark departure from Poise, Bunsenburner isn’t all ballsy riffs. Experimental moments abound, like the two part “Letting Go (softly)” and “Letting Go (hardly),” which are in essence the same song with all its melodies and motifs but one feels like a crystalline post-rock song and the other a stoner metal riff-fest. Slower chuggy passages abound that add a sludgy swampiness to the sound (“Golden Shower,” “Triskaidekaphobie”), without dragging the sound into stagnancy. Longer tracks (“Ballade Four,” “Triskaidekaphobie”) balance the two approaches in thick stoner riffs that move smoothly into gentle plucking and back again, in places feeling a tad like a more stoner-oriented Hex-era Earth. The influences of classic guitar abuse reminiscent of psychedelic Jimi Hendrix is felt throughout (“Zodiac Shit,” “Golden Shower”), while bluesy southern rock melodic sensibilities rear Gothic and mysterious heads (“Waltz, alone,” “Ballade Four”). The most obvious remnant of Rituals’ free jazz is track eight, “Dear Hollow,” a minute-long gush of wailing noise, warbling synth, and punky blastbeats – obviously and objectively the best track Bunsenburner has ever released and likely ever will.

Bunsenburner continues to hone its skills. While it sacrifices a bit of the holistic cohesion of Rituals with its more riff-centric attack, Reverie feels more a redemption arc of Poise – its pieces, however disjointed they can feel, are done with stunning clarity, organicity, and power. The grooves hit harder, the atmosphere is more complementary, and the experimental flare is palpable without sacrificing the album cohesion. Its cover’s cuddly black metal kitten is playful homage to the act’s jam-seshing chemistry, although its experimental and atmospheric elements are more than meets the ear. Next time, make the song about me a little longer for a higher score, okay? Kisses!

Rating: 3.0/5.0
DR: 7 | Format Reviewed: 320kbps mp3
Label: Self-Released
Websites: Bandcamp | Facebook
Releases Worldwide: January 17th, 2025

#2025 #30 #AmbientMetal #Bunsenburner #DoomMetal #Earth #FearMyThoughts #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #Jan25 #JimiHendrix #LongDistanceCalling #PostRock #Reverie #Review #Reviews #SelfRelease #SludgeMetal #SouthernRock #StonerMetal #Triptykon

Ingurgitating Oblivion – Ontology of Nought Review

By Dear Hollow

I’ve spent over twenty hours with Ontology of Nought, trying to learn the German Ingurgitating Oblivion’s method in the madness. I’m still lost. I’m still stumbling blindly through the dead ends, the hairpin turns, the ominous spires, and the high walls that enclose its labyrinth, attempting to discover its light but knowing that it will only be by chance if I do. I cannot find a pattern, a clue, or an architectural basis anywhere. It’s blind memorization and utter void of context, and I have never been so baffled and intrigued by something calling itself death metal.

The lack of reference makes Ontology of Nought such a difficult album to score. Laced dissonance, choppy rhythms, blackened death intensity, and technical arpeggios, tied together with spoken word, a haunting atmosphere, and vicious noise, avant-garde veterans Ingurgitating Oblivion1 somehow avoids sounding like the trademarks of any of the bands who use them. Their first album in seven years consists of five tracks spanning nearly an hour and fifteen minutes, the eighteen-minute closer divided into three movements. It shifts patiently, organically, but with the intention and direction of the blind leading the blind. Ingurgitating Oblivion constructs Ontology of Nought not as a collection of highlights and riffs, but as a sonic labyrinth composed of mile-high walls, experimental twists, jagged spires, and brutal nihilism.

Disjointedly, Ingurgitating Oblivion recalls acts like Serocs, Coma Cluster Void, and Flourishing, a fusion of dissonant, blackened, and avant-garde death metal, sprawled together with ambiance and murky songwriting – however, Ontology of Nought is a free jazz expedition a la Sun Ra or Peter Brötzmann at heart. Opener “Uncreation’s Whirring Loom You Ply with Crippled Fingers” sets the tone with a haunting ambiance, interspersed by nearly mathcore-inspired marbled rhythms and manic drumming and featuring wild jazzy solos. The suffocating sprawl of noise and dissonance gives “To Weave the Tapestry of Nought” a dangerous grin atop its cantankerous rhythms, and the crescendos of lush ambiance, cumbersome keys, and clean vocals are downright haunting and strangely infectious. The women’s choir of “Lest I Should Perish with Travel, Effete and Weary, as My Knees Refuse to Bear Me Thither” shines through this tapestry of noise, interspersed by blackened death bomb explosions. Closer “The Barren Earth Oozes Blood, and Shakes and Moans, To Drink Her Children’s Gore” is a tour-de-force of spidery keys, unhinged drumming and sick riffs, epic solos, crawling leads, scathing noise, and crystalline ambiance, an eighteen-minute behemoth with which Ingurgitating Oblivion will test your patience and your sanity in some of the best ways, the patience of prior tracks stricken to the bone.

It’s easy to draw comparisons to Midnight Odyssey or Swallow the Sun in Ontology of Nought’s challenging runtime, but at least those atmoblack and melodeath/doom legends have shreds of consistency. Ingurgitating Oblivion shifts dramatically across each song’s ten-to-nineteen-minute track-lengths in ways that rob distinctiveness in favor of an ever-changing amorphousness, leaving memorability by the wayside. Most damning is centerpiece “The Blossoms of Your Tomorrow Shall Unfold in My Heart,” which lacks the oomph or highlight to stand out amid the crushing sea of experimentalisms and jarring shifts, compared to the haunting “To Weave…” and the actualized clarity of “Lest I Should Perish…” It’s ultimately small potatoes, however, because despite the myriad spins, I still cannot seem to wrap my head around Ontology’s shifting sands of jarring tonal and musical changes. This makes Ingurgitating Oblivion almost entirely inaccessible, requiring an obscene amount of concentration – in an inherently difficult style – for an asinine amount of time. In the spirit of free jazz, Ontology of Nought feels nearly entirely improvised, so it’s difficult to tell if its insanity is a puzzle worth solving or an empty pretentious pursuit.

When I started listening to Ingurgitating Oblivion, I was reading “The Library of Babel” by Jorge Luis Borges – and the comparisons fit. While the short story about infinite numbers of identically structured hexagons and books clashes with the insane apparent randomness coursing through Ontology of Nought, the lesson remains the same: the choice of purpose in the minute or despair in the infinite. How each listener approaches this album will differ, as the experimentalism is maddening and the runtime is extravagant. The sounds contained herein are unlike any others, with intensity, experimentalism, and organicity playing an infinite sonic game of chess worthy of both shudder and intrigue. Listen to it once – replay mileage will vary.

Rating: 3.5/5.0
DR: 9 | Format Reviewed: 320 kb/s mp3
Label: Willowtip Records
Websites: ingurgitatingoblivion1.bandcamp.com | ingurgitating-oblivion.de | facebook.com/IngurgitatingOblivionOfficial
Releases Worldwide: September 27th, 2024

#2024 #35 #AtmosphericDeathMetal #AvantGardeDeathMetal #AvantGardeMetal #BlackenedDeathMetal #ComaClusterVoid #DeathMetal #DefeatedSanity #DissonantDeathMetal #Flourishing #Fountainhead #FreeJazz #GermanMetal #IngurgitatingOblivion #Jazz #MentallyDefiled #MidnightOdyssey #OntologyOfNought #PeterBrötzmann #Review #Reviews #Sep24 #Serocs #SunRa #SwallowTheSun #TechnicalDeathMetal #WillowtipRecords