Rope's first American release, the EP Fever, was a first glimpse of the Polish duo's drawn-out rock whirlwind. Now living full time in Chicago, and with the addition of American drummer Michael Kendrick, Rope have more fully expanded their vision, with Widow's First Dawn, their first full-length recording, as a result. Bassist/vocalist Robert Iwanik and guitarist Przemyslaw Chris Drazek have allowed the sounds of their ornate, sparse rock to blossom to the point of an almost baroque beauty.
Like a gowned damsel on display, the slowly revolving music of Widow's First Dawn lets light glimmer from its every surface, though this princess has a darker kernel of something sinister lurking beneath her sheen (isn't it always the case?). Rope's compositions lilt beautifully before exploding into complex flourishes, marring beauty with aggression and smudging the smooth lines with fervent zest. Cascading sheets of jeweled guitar flow from Drazek's instrument, as he stretches a glistening film between sustained individual notes or jars the music with bright melodic, echoed chord clusters. Kendrick's percussion underpins the course of the music as he pounds rhythmically or fires off impressive explosions of improv artillery. Though his bass is often the least obvious of Rope's instruments, Iwanik's vocals, when they're used, are the album's most arresting sounds. Dark, hushed, and labored, Iwanik sings as if he's grimly invoking something evil, choking on his own raspy growls. Set against Iwanik's dark words are the vocals of guest Grazyna Auguscik, a Polish jazz singer whose voice weaves itself into the music with exquisite subtlety or rises above it all with operatic flourish.
Upon first listen, Rope's music is immediately striking. But while Widow's First Dawn opens on such an impressive note, it's hard for the album to sustain it, and what initially impresses soon becomes the norm, like a magician whose repertoire contains a few amazing tricks and a collection of slight variations upon said tricks. Widow's First Dawn never disappoints, and finds Rope building upon their first ep's sound, but it also doesn't amaze as much as the first few minutes of the album's opening track might forecast. This isn't a failure on Rope's part, simply a sign that their art may still be a developing one, and that the masterpiece that Widow's First Dawn offers solid glimpses at might be just around the corner.
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