Review Summary: A sensory experience.
I am listening to this now in a big metal bird in the sky. 34,000 feet above sea-level, I'm surrounded by sleepy men in fedora hats, crying babies with no signs of stopping, and rich snobs with little in the way of poise. Perhaps this is the soundtrack I need to escape from these pestering noises. To let my mind collapse within itself.
"The Black Rain" is a suiting title for an album like this. Things start off with a woman singing falsetto in a foreign language, probably mourning over the death of a relative, while some light feedback and strings slowly fade into the whole depressing scene. She sounds like she's singing in a small tin box tied down with rusted chains, never able to escape. Dark piano chords accompany the slow-building feedback, and a solo violin along with a screechy news broadcast join in on the fun. The news is more than likely covering something dark like illness or famine. All these foggy, ambient textures continuously weave through one another until you get a broader picture of what you're in for.
Distorted pianos, lonely violins, and eerie, ambient sounds—water dripping, nighttime winds, imprisoned singing women—consume a majority of this album's 53-minute length. These gloomy components make this album not just an aural experience but a visual one as well. Closing my eyes as I listen to this, I can picture a filthy backyard toolshed, illuminated by spontaneous flashes of light from a broken light bulb suspended from a rusted wire. This is, quite frankly, a very dark album. Not menacingly dark like Kreng or Wolf Eyes, but a non-violent, all-encompassing darkness similar to The Caretaker or Atrium Carceri.
The second-to-last track "Finale" is probably the most energetic piece of music you'll hear off this album. It is the only song on here to feature percussions and Anoice utilizes them well. "Finale" quite literally ends with a bang, or a
crash I should say, as brazen guitars, pianos, strings, and drums all come together in a brilliant symphony, similar to the work of John Murphy for the 28 Days Later soundtrack, then fade away as a fighter plane crashes into the ground. Probably not the best imagery to go along with my plane ride while I continue to play this on repeat, subconsciously trying to escape from this compressed aluminum cabin, hundreds of miles from my final destination.
"The Black Rain" is a dark, brooding, enlightening, and sometimes-unpredictable experience. It should not be listened to in parts but as a singular piece of art. I suggest closing your eyes while listening and, for the full experience, listen to it
at night.
