Review Summary: Exit life.
Darkness can be pretty scary, but not always.
Now that I have effectively set the premise with my usual obligatory pseudo-poetic introduction, I am free to transition smoothly into describing the album.
Inner Stasis is a dark ambient piece courtesy of Cryobiosis, who currently operates on the Cryo Chamber label (ran by Simon Heath aka Atrium Carceri). Cryo Chamber is self-described as 'focusing on deep high quality dark ambient with a cinematic edge.' If
Inner Stasis is any indication, a truer self-description has never been uttered.
Inner Stasis is highly cinematic, and could very well be developed into a post-apocalypic film score, for example. As I've alluded to in previous reviews, the very nature of ambient is how rewarding it is to rely on your own imagination and derive your own story from the content. Yes, as
Inner Stasis began to unfold, I was deriving a story rife with fear, paranoia and grim acceptance.
Grim as my story may have been, it was by no means lacking in beauty.
Inner Stasis is, to put it bluntly, beautiful in its tormented nature. Cryobiosis mixes various droning textures with industrial effects, creating an unusually apt balance between human architecture and primal fear. To put it into perspective: you, as the listener, are engulfed in a world devoid of direct human contact. There is no light. Instinctively, you develop a sense of being trapped in an underground setting. If it's true that going blind heightens your senses, then
Inner Stasis capitalizes on that notion to the highest degree. Despite fumbling around in the abyss, every oddity is accentuated so as to be crystal clear. You notice every creak, thump, drip and footstep as though they were immediately in front of you.
Despite being thrown into what resembles a post-apocalytpic setting, there is an ever-present paranoia. As you come to terms with the demise of everything you previously knew, you become increasingly terrified with the thought of
another. That is, another human being with whom you hold no allegiance, encroaching on your territory. With every squeaky pipe there is the reminder that, despite being alone, the world still bears the impact of human influence. Your immersion into the darkness develops into a sort of Stockholm syndrome, and you begin to make peace with your tormentors. Were this music developed into a film score, it would be an engrossing character study indeed.
Inner Stasis is titled ironically. The title implies being, well, stable. For those familiar with character studies (e.g. Taxi Driver, Fight Club) it is expected that the protagonist is anything
but stable. Suffice to say,
Inner Stasis bathes in doubt. With this doubt comes the inevitable urge to resolve, and shed light on the imperceivable. Perhaps this is all hogwash; darkness has been known to make children of men.
