This record was an interesting experience. I received it in a nice little
care-package from my loving editor, with no prior notice or
information. Never having heard nor heard of Salome before, I carefully
inspected the packaging, looking for clues. Finding none, I was left only
with the band name, Salome, which, of course, invokes the woman who danced
erotically before King Herod in exchange for John the Baptist's head,
which was previously attached to his live body in Herod's prison. Herod,
repulsed by Salome's sensual display when presented with the head, orders
his guards to crush her to death with their shields. Thus, I had no idea
what to expect from the record, but did have some gruesome images in my
head.
"5118" is the first song and it starts off with a quiet, lilting guitar
playing a loose, meandering melody. However, the apparent mood quickly
turns sour when the bass and drums kick in, bringing with them, as they
do, a second dissonant guitar line, creating an a disquieting, uneasy
quality. The vocals further this unsettling mood, a male droning voice,
also just off enough to make you feel unbalanced, but not enough to be
truly unnerving. More layers of sound and distortion are heaped onto the
mix, slowly building towards a climax which is both laconic and
cacophonic. The best thing about this song is also the best thing about
Salome as a whole: the listener is caught unaware. Having no expectation,
each element of the song presents something new, and just when you think
you've finally got it figured out, it changes again, always just beyond
your grasp. Ultimately the waves of sound overtake the melody and rhythms
and the songs collapses into itself, leaving a burning, buzzing mass.
Most of the songs on the record deal in a similar sort of hypnotic
unease. At times they may invoke a pared down Godspeed You Black
Emperor!, or a revved up Red House Painters, in their later, rougher
incarnation (specifically, in live form). It's not fair, really, to say
that they are like either of those bands, in that there are certainly
marked differences. Salome is neither as apocalyptically disturbing as
the former nor as lazy-afternoon introspective as the latter. One may
just as easily invoke Bardo Pond or Spaceman 3, though they are neither
sludgey nor spacey. They can be simple and beautiful, or they can create
huge waves of noise, and they can move between the two gracefully. What
is really Salome's strength, as with all of the aforementioned bands, is
an intensity of sound and no fear in using it.
For instance, the second track, "Dead Princess," is largely comprised of
the band working together on a grinding drone. They follow up with "The
Object Lesson," a more straightforward mid-tempo track than either of the
first two, with twinges of psychedelic reverb and a female
vocal. "Waiting," the next track, then pushes this further with by
layering intense, distorted guitar lines, one carrying the soaring melody,
while the other suffers a wah-wah induced hemorrhage.
Salome moves through all of these changes effortlessly, maintaining a
common vibe of a dreamy, spooky otherworldliness throughout. As a band,
they seem to have a great intuitive feel for allowing their music to
travel its own path, while they follow behind, documenting where it
goes. This allows for a.m. to be satisfying in its diversity and
to have a continuity between its seemingly disparate parts.
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