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I received a four-pack of dark ambient releases from Malignant Records, so let's take a look at them together, shall we?

Collapsar, Beyond the Event Horizon

From its very first note, Beyond the Event Horizon makes it clear that the listener is in for a grim, beatless, this-is-what-the-void-is-like interpretive ride on the darker side of ambient. And you know, it’s a better ride than I expected it to be. Granted, what’s here is a set of spacewind howls, rumbling bass drones and the occasional sound of what could be distressed hull metal, but Collapsar (aka Thibaud Thaunay) manages to stitch them together in a way that never quite gets old or repetitive. I found myself at times wishing there were no breaks between tracks—a single, long-form narrative may have better suited the idea, giving the listener no immediate way of emerging from the darkness. Still, the six tracks work both separately and together, thematically. I’m sure that this wasn’t part of the intended idea, but (for me) at low volume Beyond... can actually be somewhat calming—the wind lowered to a white-noise hiss, the drones filtering in through your ears like subsonic suggestion...but it will never quite allow you to completely relax. Collapsar’s sense of deep-space menace remains. For a dark, purely abstract vision of unexplored space, grab your ticket to go Beyond the Event Horizon.

Wolfskin, O Ajuntar das Sombras

The first cold drone of “The Body of Chaos,” the opening track from Wolfskin’s farewell CD, O Ajuntar das Sombras, sent a chill up my spine—a chill that stayed there, track after track, burrowing constantly deeper. This is an elegant piece of dark ambient, a funereal cloak of sound crafted in whole cloth from shadow and fear, a parchment of thick minimalist washes across which composer Johan Aernus writes a grim tale with a compelling sonic narrative. And everything that Aernus adds in, works. The hairs on your neck will stand up at the whispered voice in “Cart of Light”–part incantation, part deathbed recollection, slithering through your ears with an uncomfortable intimacy, leaving cold dread in its wake. The track becomes a memory of war, and the voice tells us the crux of the tale: “Victory and defeat...are nearly the same thing.” It’s an amazing piece of work. A host of unusual touches help make O Ajuntar... so compelling. Keening bagpipes (a repeating motif) and powerful drums in “Yew Column” impart the feel of some savage, murderous ritual. Throaty voices chant and drone like the forgotten prayers of some dark mass or, as in the case of “Iron Unfolded” where a strong beat punctuates the voice, like a council of war held around a campfire. As I noted with Collapsar, when Aernus pares his sound back to bare-bones drones and the sigh of a grim, conjured wind, as in “Rex Sacrorum” and “A World of Veils,” it borders on soothing. But soothing as in, this is a very soothing graveyard on a cold, moonless night. Perhaps “lulling” is a better word. You may let your guard down slightly as the drones work their way through your consciousness, but there's always an edge to the sound to keep you on your toes. This disk truly comes to life when Aernas is in full narrator mode and there’s a lot going on in your ears. His attention to detail is stunning. The smallest of sounds seems purposefully placed. Everything contributes; nothing detracts. I’m not normally one to listen to truly dark ambient, but O Ajuntar das Sombras is a work I look forward to delving into more deeply because so far, each time I've listened I've heard just a bit more.

Hyios, Consuetudines

Charging in on the back of a snarling industrial steed, Germany’s Hyios infiltrates and commandeers your head with the relentless assault of Consuetudines. This disk made me want to armor up, paint my face in the blood of my enemies and go to war. Listening to this disk is like getting a sonic injection of testosterone and savagery. There is nothing easy to listen to here. Hyios grates, scrapes, slams, thunders, crashes and rends his way through the seven pieces here, the sound palette coming across entirely in dead-soul blacks, void-dark purples and shadowy greys. And it works—incredibly well. This is not a disk you will listen to. This is a disk that will pin you by the throat and demand you hear what it has to say. Surrender and enjoy.

Terra Sancta, Disintegration

I think that if I’m ever trapped in a howling sandstorm, it will sound a lot like Terra Sancta’s Disintegration, and probably have a similar feel. This is aggressive yet minimalistic dronework, a sort of proto-musical coarse sandpaper that artist Gregg Good rubs against your soul for an hour. Respites are few and far between, and it takes a dedicated listener to take on Disintegration in a single go. Looking at it solely from a dark ambient standpoint, it’s a well-made disc. It does what it sets out to do, it’s thematically solid and actually fairly compelling even for someone who’s not big into dark, like me. I like what Good’s doing here in terms of building up his assault, really leaning into it and staying on it, then throttling back to give the listener a few moments to try to get their bearings—before just cramming the grind right back into their face. The whole thing is flavored with isolation, dissociation and a bit of despair. If you like your noise dark and relentless, give Disintegration a shot.

Arrocata, Desert Electric

Robert Straub offers up a fresh set of landscape-inspired meditations on his latest disc, Desert Electric. I would say, by way of compliment, that this CD should be played at a fairly normal volume because at low volume it’s so superbly subtle that it quite fades away. Without question, on your first listen--or first several--you need to set this disc to loop and let it run to allow it to gradually transform your space, your breathing and your mindset. I had this disc running for four hours straight, in headphones, and was content to stay inside of it. It never wore out its welcome, never forced its way into my head, and the transition from end to starting again is marked only by the slightly more dramatic touches of the opening track, “Mirage.” Straub does a very good job of bookending the disc with strong sounds or feelings, like the often-dissonant drama of “Mirage” and the electric ripple that slides through the beginning of “Petrified Forest.” Mid-journey, electronic burble that feels like an alien vocal sample in “Voices in the Window” gently pokes at your brain to make sure you’ve not fallen too far into relaxation. Beyond that, Straub’s shifting-sand flows, night-sky glimmer and horizon’s-edge chords make for a calming, deeply interesting voyage. It’s a soother, for sure, but Straub’s also enough of a craftsman to make sure there’s a lot to hear if you listen closely. And you should. This is an incredibly graceful work, an exercise in effective understatement. Once again, Arrocata has created a Hypnagogue Highly Recommended CD.

Available from CDBaby.

Steve Roach, Destination Beyond

I’ve been particularly enjoying Steve Roach’s focus over his last few releases. Since his rediscovery of analog modular synths back on Possible Planet, he’s been steadily working toward the seamless blending of the distinct geometrical pulses from those older rigs and airy, cloud-motion drifts. Since Arc of Passion he’s been in full-on refining mode, and the sound has become more self-sure and cohesive through Landmass and now into this latest CD. The single long-form piece here clearly culls some sound design from the elegantly immersive Dynamic Stillness, with Roach weaving sequencer lines over those spacious harmonic chord structures. The journey this time begins in quiet for a few minutes before Roach begins to slowly percolate the surface of the sound. Beat and non-beat trade predominance across this 73-minute voyage, the beats coercing a bit of head-bobbing and foot-tapping from the listener, and the non-beats just allowing one to focus on sound and breathing. Like all of his one-track works, Destination Beyond takes its end as a new beginning, and this CD will loop absolutely effortlessly. In its scope and tone, Destination Beyond beautifully bridges the breadth of Roach’s career. The sequencer work carries echoes of his high-energy early releases and his love of hands-on sound creation, while the breathier, more meditative spaces are the signature of Roach’s adeptness at taking us quietly inside ourselves. There is a fair amount of welcome familiarity here as Roach digs deep into his libraries, and yet it is also wonderfully fresh and eminently listenable. Destination Beyond is a Hypnagogue Highly Recommended CD.

Available at Steve Roach's web site and Projekt Records.

Jamie Craig, Illumination

The music offered up on Jamie Craig's Illumination probably sits just a bit over the fence for what I normally review--certainly much more of a smooth jazz/New Age blend than anything else--but at the same time, since I did a stint as a jazz DJ in college and because I find the disc fairly engaging, I figured I wasn't too far removed from the music to offer a cogent review. Plus, he sent me a t-shirt.

I hadn't thought about Nelson Rangell in a while, but that was one of my first mental associations when listening to Illumination, that sort of sax-based, airy jazz. Cfraig plays well, and is open enough to note that all the instruments here are synth-based. That fact doesn't dilute that when the music here is good, it's quite good. But that's the thing--llumination feels uneven in the long run, like Craig had a few solid tunes, but not enough to pack out a CD, so he pulled out some lesser efforts to fill that space. The difference in the two is very noticeable. It’s a matter of the depth of sound, a stronger sense of effort and craftsmanship delineating some from the others. For example, "Lost & Found” kicks off the disc nicely,driven by a Ponty-esque violin a funk beat, and a solid, strolling bass line. "Midtown Saturday Night” is a good jazz narrative that feels a lot like a Steely Dan bridge. It get a little repetitious in spots, but works overall. The strongest track here is the beautiful "To Nola With Love.” I especially like Craig’s halting piano work here. He plays with the rhythm, chopping it in spots to give the feel of something missing, something being just a bit off. Thematically, it’s perfect. This is very clearly a personal track for Craig. “San Juan” is an episodic, Caribbean-flavored stroll that changes tone and feel over its course. "H20zone” grooves right along with its own bad self, upbeat but chilled courtesy of some soulful sax melodies. “Guardian Angel” is a soft ballad with a strong Shadowfax undertone, churning up memories of Chuck Greenberg. (If you're wondering about how many references I've dropped here, I'm just trying to keep pace--in Craig's press release, he knocks out 33 different influences in two pages!) The remainder of the tracks didn't work as well for me, but overall Illuminations is a strong piece of smooth jazz that I have been keeping in my daily mix. For a change of pace, check it out for yourself.

Available at Jamie Craig's myspace page.

Geoffrey Armes, Hemisphere

Inventive, engaging, and absolutely enjoyable. That’s my summation of Geoffrey Armes’ new CD, Hemisphere. Downright jazzy and spiced with world-beat overtones, Hemisphere is a unique experiment in music. The tracks here began their life as improvised pieces performed live to accompany a dance troupe’s performance, with Armes playing keys, synth and a Roland Handsonic for percussion. He then took the improv’d tracks into his studio and added to and augmented them, deepening the sound and truly enhancing the original ideas. Part of what makes this interesting is that Armes keeps the room’s environmental sounds in the tracks. Voices, applause, background sounds—they all become part of the experience of each song, a reminder of the stepping-off point. By and large, Hemisphere is a good collection of interesting blends of style. I like the pairing of an almost military-cadence drum with a techno feel at the beginning of “The Neighborhood Dubhouse” and the Blue Note-style cool that washes through “Light Fantastic Trip.” In some tracks ("Light Fantastic," for example) it seems that Armes feels the need to add too much. These pieces lose their way a bit, but the elements are there, and solid. It just the sense of missing the mark by a hair. Conversely, when he hits it spot on, it’s an intense pleasure to listen to. “Endless Mansion” is such a track, with a strutting bossanova base and snappy Latin percussion. The hard funk of “Geology” is peppered with hard-charging guitar work, a meaty bass line and solid 70s-jazz electric keys. “With Clarity” is a great closer to the disc, deep and playfully uptempo with more of those background sounds adding character—particularly when it sounds like a little group chant! The best track here, though, is “Ancient Flow,” which pairs a swaying, drum-driven beat with a vocal sample filtered to sound like a didgeridoo. It’s simply hypnotic, a close-your-eyes-and-go ride. Hemisphere has proven itself to be a pleasant surprise across several welcome repeat listens. Armes’ construction is superb; there’s a lot of thought and soul showing through in the tracks here. I’m looking forward to more from him—and soon.

Available from Geoffrey Armes' web site.

Joe Renzetti, Thanatos

First things first: Don’t listen to this disc in a good mood. It’s too dark, too ruminative, to do anything but color your soul in black and ashen hues. In the right circumstances, this is not a bad thing. And for those times when you are ready to be more melancholy than usual, Thanatos is the disc you'll want to reach for. It’s dark and it’s grim, yes, but considered within that framework it’s also quite lovely, strongly constructed and thematically deep. Renzetti sets out to present his vision of a dark, empty future, and does so admirably. Air-raid sirens wail in the distance behind arguing voices as the end descends upon mankind. The sound pares back to a dead-wind drone as a voice asks, “Is anybody there?” The answer is no. Renzetti then proceeds to escort us through his melancholic, devastated world via elegiac piano melodies, industrially twisted metal sounds like the battered remnants of destroyed cities, the otherworldly thrum of a drum pounded in some unspeakable ritual accompanied by a guttural chant, a guitar that’s playing too gently amid the ruins to not be perfectly out of place, intermittent vocal samples—the distant sound of survivors, or just a sonic memory?—jarring our senses as planned and pure-black minor chords that wrap the listener like a shroud. Thanatos is not an easy thing to listen to. It never lets up. At the same time, it’s not forcefully dark. Renzetti never puts it right up in the listener’s face. It’s a tour of the devastation from just out of reach, a slow pan across ruins that are still falling, a vision-as-harbinger sensibility pervading the proceedings. If ever there was a reason to use the phrase “dark beauty,” it’s Thanatos. Prepare yourself, then give it a listen.

Available from CD Baby.

Runningonair, Out of Process

Straight out of the gates, it’s clear that Joe Evans, recording as Runningonair, is onto something relatively unique in this CD. A quick, repeated three-note motif on piano rolls over a snare slapping out a jazzy beat and then...an automated phone system voice giving us instructions? Yes, and it works as Evans wedges that so-patient-you-wanna-scream lady’s voice into his urgent, toe-tapping riffs. It's weird, and yet you're grooving to it. And from there, Out of Process just continues to pleasantly delight with its effortless blend of jazz roots and catchy electronic warble and bounce. “Summer Fade” feels like a little combo playing a standard as little electronic touches whirl around the edges. “Disappear Fast” moves from its piano-ballad opening when Evans slips in a high-pitched sequencer line, vocals and half-spoken/half-sung lyrics on vocoder. “Lost American Dream” is one of the most straightforward pieces on the disc, a piano-and-brass (or synth brass, anyway) piece reminiscent of Mark Isham. Nice, quiet movement. “Milk Thistle” jaunts along like the funky little piece of schizophrenic bop it is, starting out like an over-the-top Ricky Ricardo homage to Rio, then smoothing out to sophisticated chords and another voice clip before coming back around. It’s worth noting that Out of Process benefits from this often: Evans is confident with and talented at switching gears mid-stream—taking a lazy groove and spending a few minutes sharpening its edges or pulling it in fresh directions, then showing that he knows when to pull back by resuming what he’d started. That little bit of unexpectedness keeps the tracks engaging and makes them more than just an exercise in dressing up jazz with a bit of knob-twiddling. "On Hold Pt 1" presents cool vibraphone tones paired with a fuzzed-out, wailing guitar sound. Evans melts it seamlessly into Part 2 where he takes the same basic arrangements and darkens it up, bring the wail more to the forefront and dropping in some drums for more drama and force. Nice touch. The out-of-left-field vocal samples take the fore again in "Single Source of Truth." This one neatly skips between two musical identities like sides of a coin--one simple and almost soothing, the other more urgent. I love the out-of-place yet strangely at home "et cetera" Evans drops in. "Blue White" glides vocoder lyrics over a poppy electro-beat. Fairly straightforward, and one of my favorite tracks on the disk. The disc closes with "Western Machine," which kicks off like a Phillip Glass homage with a one-two punch of sequenced chords over a flowing backdrop. Choral voices that punch in help the allusion. Track after track, Out of Process proves itself to be a funky, playful, jazzy and neatly constructed pleasure. I'm fascinated by its depth and, at the same time, its restraint in not playing the found sounds and samples too strongly. Everything feels nicely balanced, everything's in place and it's a disc I keep coming back to because it's so damned enjoyable! That's what makes it a Hypnagogue Highly Recommended CD.

Available from Runningonair's web site.