Review Summary: How I feel.
Recently I’ve found myself in a sort of purgatory because I don’t know how to
feel. Grateful? Hardly. Bewildered? Most definitely. Mostly my emotional range has become a dyslexic see-saw, it’s distance limited to the fulcrum that lifts both up and then down, repeated until the mechanism breaks all together. As to where it will land, it’s so far unclear. I’m not willing to place a bet yet.
That brings us to YRRE’s
Luhlae x The Witch, born from a ciné-concert (a composition tailor made for
‘The VVitch’, (Robert Eggers, 2015)) first under
the now album title and later under the moniker of YRRE. While
Luhlae x The Witch is technically a conceptual piece, it was put together in less than a month. I point this out because the cuts that are the sum of the album’s parts are no less impressive considering the lack of the time the artists took to cut, polish and re-polish before unleashing this emotive musical backdrop on the world. It’s the connection however that makes YRRE’s newest effort what it is. “Onginnan” is textbook tension; driving atmospheric motifs that ebb through the din like a knife through butter. You
feel the mood, knowing in an instant that sense of foreboding that would otherwise hold you back. Other cinematic ripostes change moods in an instant. The following, “Uhtceare'' takes the themes before it and subdues it; calmness in the face of increasing tension, dissonant melodies weaving around a staple of steady drum stanzas and even phrasing. There’s a predictability here that bundles a listener along for the ride—whether they’re aware or not.
By the time we’ve reached the tectonic “Aglaeca’ and the glacial flow of “Sunu”,
Luhlae x The Witch has found a tipping point. Compositions drenched in doom aesthetics reign supreme. The latter’s longer chord progressions eventually tipping into the album’s closing one-two punch and yet “Dustsceawung” closes this album perfectly. The mood escalates once again into what can only be considered as “Altar Of Plagues territory”. Huge riffs pulse through the din, reinforced by sauntering drum lines and emphasised cymbal splashing. But it’s the balancing of atmosphere (here and elsewhere) that truly makes a listener (me)
feel.
So far I still haven’t managed to articulate just how I feel with or without the album’s influence. Maybe I’m just a little too far gone on the spectrum. Still the see-saw flirts within its own ranges; rage, despair, sadness and in the right circumstance, hope. YRRE’s
Luhlae x The Witch may have been born to fill the needs of a cinematic journey, but it could be so much more. Relevant to the individual needs of those that hear it.
