| ⭐⭐⭐⭐ |
Back in 2010, a decade after the release of their critically-acclaimed ‘Soundtracks For The Blind’, the band Swans decided to crawl out of their hiatus and re-invent themselves once again. This time around, they ushered in elements of some of their prior drone and experimental rock excursions, which were complimented by some subtle neo-folk-isms on their predictive ‘My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to The Sky’. A far-cry from the epic and surreal ambition of their last, though not without its mighty highs, it was about as Swans of a move as a move could get. One’s image of the band at the time, and what this comeback was presenting to listeners, just would not have been lining up. That’s why in 2012, when they released ‘The Seer’ into the world, an initially unsuspecting fanbase would have felt like they had been hit by a train.
Thus marked the true beginning of the “big sound” era of Swans. Characterised by a diverse array of instrumentation, plodding builds, single-chord progressions, droning tones, and post-rock-style crescendos, it was an exercise in patience. Deconstructing traditional rock formulas, seeing just how far one single musical idea could be pushed before it collapsed in on itself due to its sheer weight; the breaking point always just around the corner.
When the follow-up ‘To Be Kind’ proved that ‘The Seer’ was in fact not a fluke, but rather a warm-up, something was truly afoot. These tracks were more hypnotic, more expansive, more visceral, a total brick to the face. Swans were in their bag, grinding out some of the most marvellous experimental rock music of the 21st century. ‘The Glowing Man’, 2016’s entry into the band’s catalogue, took this clarity of sound and made it feel heavenly. Still deeply unnerving at points, but packed with highs that ran like a euphoric trip.As the band has progressed in this style, certainly it has started to feel like maybe they were painting themselves into a bit of a corner. For all of its murky groove passages and spine-tingling lyrical content, ‘leaving meaning.’ didn’t quite reach the magnificent peaks that the previous three records accomplished. Subsequently, ‘The Beggar’ was far too scattered and generic to truly leave an everlasting mark on their discography.
‘Birthing’, however, is different. It might run almost like a recap of the last 15 years of Swans’ music, but it is by no means a small effort. This album offers the meditation, the ambient lulls, the post-rock ascensions, the repetition, the cultish mantras, the neo-folk-isms, and does so whilst achieving a level of zen that has felt like a pipe dream for this band for so long.
Whether you’re talking about the multi-phased opener ‘The Healers’, or the gargantuan ‘I Am A Tower’, or the hypnotic title track, the band feels like a well-oiled machine. Churning out these long-form opuses that don’t so much insist upon themselves, but know intrinsically what they’re capable of. Swans are in complete control of their utilities, and it results in an awe-inspiring look over the shoulder at what has been accomplished, yet also hints at what the future holds for this musical chameleon.
‘The Merge’, for example, smothers us with an explosive noise intro, before mellowing out into something more acoustic as it cools down. While not the most cohesive piece on the album, it certainly entices fans of the band with possibilities for what could be coming down the line. Rope (Away) is the most Godspeed-like this band has sounded, and is a fittingly bittersweet finale for the “big sound”. One could visualise the music here being guided up the very rope that began this journey, onto another plane. Not to die, but to transcend and be reborn. Michael Gira and co can finally put this moment in their music to rest, they can finally have their rebirth.
Dan Will Review 