Surface of Eceon - The King Beneath the Mountain
(Strange Attractors)
The King Beneath the Mountain and I have been living together for two months now, and while I do feel sorry for not getting this review of the album done sooner, that remorse is lessened by the realization that I have a much better and more intimate understanding of Surface of Eceon than I could have had two months ago. My time with Surface of Eceon’s has most certainly been time well spent, but there’s no sense in going through the long and drawn-out explanations of things as I usually do with these record reviews—it’s simply a damn fine recording with few flaws.
Equally mixed between drone and improvisation, The King Beneath the Mountain has a definite krautrock influence that cannot be denied. Beauty and mind-numbing rock are blended throughout this album as a whole, leaving the listener stunned after each track, as well as each listen to the entire record. But the record is not simple ear candy—there is more than enough here to reward equally well those who give this album their undivided attention on each listen as well as those who use it for background ambiance. Three swirling guitars, drenched in effects and fuzz, highly precise and crisp drums, and stellar production demand repeat play.
The album opens with "The Open Sea," perhaps the record’s best track.
A brief false start greets the listener before the track’s overall guitar scheme is set forth. Phil Jenkins’ drumming purposefully propels the song forward as more and more layers are piled on top of the mix. The track differs from the rest of the album in one clearly noticeable fashion—the presence of vocals. While these vocals are not overbearing, they are handsomely welcome amidst the wash of delayed guitars. Just as much as the song’s false start on the recording tempts you and prepares you for the actual song, the sudden dropout ending during an intense guitar burn leaves the listener jarred awake and longing for more. Six and a half minutes after the journey begins you’ll find yourself sifting through the remains of your charred and split skull, wondering just exactly what happened, although I doubt you'll mind too much.
Up next is "Silence Beheads Us," serving up a whopping hunk of quiet and understated ambient sounds. "The Grasshopper King" demonstrates how to perfectly play highly dynamic, yet completely restrained, rock and commit it to record. This is all well and good, but the album’s final track, "Ascension to the Second Tier of the Outer Plane of Dryystn (Ecyeon)," provides the perfect 17 minute epic. All of the influences roll together and make for an extremely pleasant journey.
Earlier I mentioned that this album has a few flaws—they are present but very minimal. At times the band’s improvisational work stretches out too far, hinting that perhaps a little bit of rehearsal may have been needed from a couple of songs before recording them for the album. This quibble is minor at best—see it merely as constructive criticism and not as anything that should stop you from rushing to pick up this album.
The King Beneath the Mountain is space rock at its best. It is truly scary to think that album is Surface of Eceon’s first release. We should all wait with baited breath to see where they take us from here.
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