Review Summary: Movie climax music. But only the good ones.
Stars wander across the darkened sky. Cars on a lonely beach drive. The dawn is not far off. In the aftermath of dead relationships, perhaps maybe a colossal epiphany or two, or even just the soundtrack to admire the scenery; you'd have to admit anything that cinematic would have to be either overly ambitious (prog) or overly atmospheric and (post-rock). God Is An Astronaut play the latter style, completely atmospheric, but they have one thing on their side and that is that they are never boring.
You see, post-rock bands are a dime a dozen these days; climaxes and crescendoes, the use of musical timbre, volume and dynamics as the instruments, the simple chiming of guitars and the instrumental nature... it's all so been done before. Anno 2000 you may have been cool and innovative, taking the sounds of Slint and Talk Talk and moulding it into something new. Anno 2008, you sound dated already. However, God Is An Astronaut hail from a period precisely in the middle, and seem to have taken this vigour into the records they made during that period. Though what came after seems to have garnered good (but more mixed) reactions, 2005's All is Violent, All is Bright (what a post rock title!) seems to be unanimously hailed as the best thing in post rock, or since sliced bread, or since <whatever your favourite album is>.
The thing is, those superlatives are
damn accurate. You know how Explosions In The Sky has those really nice instrumental climaxes, but puts them on like a 12 minute song? There is none of that mucking about here as songs rarely exceed the five minute mark or so, making for a nicely concise record. They therefore circumvent the pitfall of most post-rock; becoming really atmospheric, but sustaining the same mood for so long it becomes a pain to sit through. You know how Sigur Ros has really pretty material, but the off-the-wall vocals deter people? It's not here, this is a trio without a vocalist. The record even lacks the pretentious 20 word song titles of say, A Silver Mt. Zion, or even Red Sparowes. It's so stereotypically post-rock and yet it never seems pretentious; more like fitting, and in a history of pretentious twiddling, that is a welcome relief.
Another thing that these Irish lads have on their green rolling hill-sides, is the damn atmosphere and vibe they give off. Creating such an atmosphere is pretty much imperative given the genre but for a first, they do it so damn
well, and for a second, it just seems so emotional and not contrived. It feels so true when you listen to Remembrance Day; a tune for the fallen soldiers of the Second World War; or Dust and Echoes, which could be the perfect tune for the ending of some sad soppy drama movie where the main character dies at the end. It's that kind of emotion we're talking about; the ones where if you licked the speakers, you could taste the tears and the sweetness oozing from the rack. No matter whether it is real (as many of the emotions we could attribute to this music should seem to be purely fictional), because it definitely
feels real, which is all the more important.
Like many other bands, God Is An Astronaut would release records afterwards that were more mediocre (read: not as well-received by the press) for reasons known, unknown, and unforeclosed. They would not become the defining band for post-rock, nor say a "posterboy" of consistency; but when they hit their peak, they rose above the Mount Everest. Perhaps we can bask in the fleeting rays coming down on us from wherever that high place is where this album takes residence. I imagine that up there, they would have enjoyed a rather pristine view anyway.
