Review Summary: Watching the good life turn into dust.
There’s supposed to be a sense of pride in any achievement. To advance oneself has to be a net positive, no? Pulling up bootstraps, enduring sleepless nights, gritting teeth—it amounts to
something in a forward direction, and that ought to be enough. Yet the windows of my apartment feel hollow; they house only a vague idea of socioeconomic accomplishment. I stare into a city skyline, gazing across the canvas of lights bleeding into the night, understanding that each houses a similar story: a private narrative containing life in abundance, offering snapshots into alternate existences ultimately left unknown. That mysterious aura compels in the same manner a blank paper urges an artist; there’s a tale trapped inside the indefinite, tantalizing close while simultaneously out of reach. At some point, Mark Norgate discovered the same perspective. A walk through the suburbs or the nearest downtown reveals all: the edifices of stark normality stretch for miles, portraying a cold sense of serenity that blankets the truth of individual fables. It’s here that Mark’s Dawnwalker project alters course, resigning from folklore and whimsical realms to a far more grounded view. Compared to the grand scale of prior records, this appears less epic on the surface, and instead a much narrower route. Though smaller in its premise, Norgate’s approach maintains its wide scope; the U.K. musician assembled an ensemble of seven other players to realize fourth release
House of Sand, employing live studio performances in an attempt to generate a more organic sound. The resulting layers of the latest LP are incredibly engaging, diving headfirst into mood in a manner uncharted before in Mark’s growing catalog. Though undeniably reserved.
House of Sand compensates with its beguiling implementation of atmosphere.
These are not the massive tremolo soundscapes of
Ages, but instead contemplative passages that begin in a sort of malaise and end in a foreboding downfall. Appropriately, it is the most somber Norgate offering to date, molding abstract metaphors regarding depression, crumbling relationships, professional failures—all embodied by the stereotypical white-picket fence symbol of
You made it in life! Dawnwalker’s instrumental focus builds on this concept and trades in black metal for heavily atmospheric progressive rock passages. Guitars adopt softer textures, often cooperating with acoustics, melancholic piano notes, and mournful violin swells to generate bleak, despairing pictures of a life quietly approaching the verge of collapse. Fantasy worlds part to introduce a grim suburban home baking under the sunlight, basking in the glow of success yet concealing sinister intentions. The production accentuates this; though clear, it possesses a haziness to its layers, casting a delicate mist over proceedings that creates a haunting aura, leaving ample room for each band member to flourish. When sorrowful chords are allowed to adorn themselves with heavier, fuzzy tones, it shakes the foundation of that ambiance, causing that comfortable suburbia existence to shudder in their wake. The album maintains a consistent ebb and flow between those louder moments and their contrasting journeys, legitimizing the overarching concept of
House of Sand and retaining the songwriting strengths of Dawnwalker releases.
Though each song is brief—the LP as a whole measures a decent bit below the Dawnwalker standard—Norgate arranges them in a manner to make them feel larger than their length. There’s a delicate post-rock element at play in how tracks gradually grow their ideas, often starting from a quieter base before opening up a broader soundscape where the full force of the collective can be felt. In “Demon of Noontide,” the piano supplies the central melody, working alongside despondent second tenor singing to bring the album’s despairing world to life. An emergence of rough guitars, female vocals, and eerie harmonies decorate the home, every included factor reverberating off the confines of the residence. When the band rises to achieve a climactic moment, it’s impressively grand despite the smaller story at play; the guitars ring out loudly while the piano clamors to rise above them, all while the ominous refrain repeats. Those general instrumental motifs are maintained throughout the album’s duration, though they can be contorted to change a tune’s progression. In one instance is “Repeater,” which similarly accrues momentum off cascading piano notes, yet opts to add backing choir vocals to enhance the unnerving aesthetic. Once the song hits its stride, it maintains the heavier sound it constructs, even inserting a heftier portion that accentuates the guitar riffs. On the opposite end of the spectrum is the purely atmospheric “Standing Stones,” where the music is punctuated more by echoing, graceful movements of acoustic strumming and violin swells than it is large pinnacles. Even when avoiding explosive exhibitions, Dawnwalker manage to remain compelling through their engaging structuring.
When
House of Sand opts for a more direct approach, the results bring equally compelling tracks. The first iteration of the title formation stands out in this regard; dominated entirely by acoustic strumming, the song proceeds as if it were a pop tune from a bizarro dimension. There’s a somewhat creepy, unnatural feel to the warbling effects that infect the number, and the happy vocal delivery through the standard verse-chorus structure clashes strongly with the lyrics and overarching theme. The most aggressive of the 13 tunes undoubtedly stands as lead single “Coming Forth By Day,” in large part due to its prominent usage of visceral screams—an aspect of Dawnwalker rarely heard on this album. What makes a given entry succeed regardless of the band’s approach is how consistently the individual members can be heard. The bass and piano contributions in particular enhance the album in subtle, albeit profound ways. When branching off into heavier sections a la “Coming Forth By Day,” the thunderous strikes of the low end serve to heighten the drama, accentuating the tension imbued by the harsh vocals. It finds similar importance in ushering in the second half of “False Doors,” embarking upon a weighty riff of its own to increase the heaviness of the track. They keys, for their part, complement the textures of the guitars, embodying either a supporting role or establishing the groundwork of a song. Between the intermittent violin sections, scratchy guitar melodies, and captivating vocals, there’s plenty to appreciate about the compositions, with some details only emerging on subsequent listens.
While it emerges from a humble beginning in terms of story,
House of Sand finishes as something surprisingly ambitious. Spoken word interludes and stray lines of prose tip-toe around the life of a broken protagonist, vaguely alluding to murder, demonic possession, and a myriad of other unpleasant phenomena. Whether any manifest into reality is ultimately left to interpretation; Norgate provides only clues, quietly deconstructing the glory of a stereotypical suburban utopia. As is stressed in the subtext, there is no guarantee of solace in accomplishment alone. Those things that are earned, be it a home, an apartment, a lover, a family—they are far from guarantees. What was once desired could become a hindrance in a moment, and an expensive triumph of modern-day architectural homogeny could be unveiled as the hollow shell it always was. In a strange way, the ‘good life’ creates a prison for its denizens; anything craved is delivered, but at the cost of morality and emotional stability. In more vulnerable nights—the very same where my stare is caught astray at a city skyline, inventing narratives, aimlessly wandering in hallways that were never there—I feel it all slip through my fingers: friends, work, anything. Drain the remains and there sits an isolated house of sand: a hollow development awaiting the coming tide. Norgate’s intimate portrayal of solitude where happiness should lie is incredibly immersive and, courtesy of the mood-soaked arrangements, tragically beautiful in how it illustrates an emotional decline. Placing an emphasis upon the world itself has allowed the Dawnwalker collective to craft its most relatable disc while also devising a fresh interpretation of its identity. Though no longer in fantasy,
House of Sand is the most complete idea Mark has devised front-to-back, and it’s an enthralling jaunt the entire way through.
