FAINT WAVES

There are lofty expectations here when the naming conventions are this strong. Speaking from experience, naming a song, or any work? It’s hard, and depending on which comes first, the name or the piece, it can be hard to capture or fulfill the promise of a name. Yet, artists find a way, time and again. It begs the question, what’s in a name? Does it carry weight in and of itself, or is it all an illusion, and any “essence” is brought to it after the fact by those observing the art and the name? These are philosophical questions that I won’t answer for you; rather, I’ll provide you with an example of a brilliantly named song that is in fact brilliant itself. It’s the latest offering from Shades Of Sound Recordings. 

Self-described “alliance of transatlantic low-fi fanatics and leftfield DJ/Producers”, Warriors Of The Dystotheque (a truly terrific and clever portmanteau of Dystopia and Discotheque) deliver on both their own name and the name of their new maxi-single, with “All The Sounds We Cannot Hear”. All The Sounds We Cannot Hear is out now on Joe Morris’ Shades Of Sound Recordings. I’m going to predominately talk about the titular song in this brief review, but the single features the original track, an instrumental version, a dub-infused “CP1919” mix, a “Joe Morris Sunrise To Sunset” mix provided by the label-head himself, and an “Italo Chug” mix by Balearic Jukebox. It’s truly a worthwhile musical package and makes the most of the titular song; give it a look. Now, on to the song proper. An epic deserving of its name.

Immediately, you’re locked into the far-future Balearic dreamscape that the Warriors Of The Dystotheque have constructed, with its winding ouroboros arpeggiator and shimmering pads. It’s not until the effected guitar hits that you realize just how grand this piece is; it’s the sunset at the end of the world, and all time merely an ocean surrounding you (the listener). This vision, dystopian yet wonderfully cosmic, is compounded by a Peter Saville vocal sample. It cannot be overstated the magnificence of this piece of work. After the mounting tension of a synth string, some really nuanced and lovely processed guitar, and the Saville dialogue, the drums hit and the rhythm section is finally out in full force. At that point, the Balearic bomb has dropped, and you’re never the same; you’re merely wading through the hi-fidelity fallout. The Warriors and their leftfield eclecticism culminate in what could be a magnum opus (hopefully one of many), a transcendent dose of musical euphoria.

What’s in a name? Well, this one, a great deal. It is as Peter Saville says, “Suddenly there was this feeling of sunrise and sunset”. Before and after. Beginning and ending. Light and darkness. Melody and silence. These are the sounds we cannot hear; rather, you feel them. It’s a profound sentiment and one beautifully illustrated by a song that is certain to go down in the annals of Balearic history.

All The Sounds We Cannot Hear is out now on Bandcamp.