Review Summary: Shunya Cassius is a mysterious post-industrial artist, dwelling in the underground of the scene and subconscious of the psyche.
Shunya Cassius is a mysterious post-industrial artist, dwelling in the underground of the scene and subconscious of the psyche. Little is known about this project and the release of Car’lyeh presents one endless riddle – deciphering which becomes as interesting as the actual listen.
To better understand this album I chose the method of narrowing segments from general to particular.
The alias Shunya Cassius gave me little to nothing: the spectrum of meanings is way too wide to sort out the message behind it, or maybe I am too ignorant to see it. I am a simple Marilyn Manson kind of person. Car’lyeh also gave me no clues, except the image of Rlyeh from you know who and you know where.
The artwork depicts a graphic image of a heart with a sort of red substance around it, thorns, and mystical geometry. Well, might as well be symbolic.
All this weird stuff assembled in one release becomes even weirder when the music starts playing. Although this kind of presentation is well known and has proven its credibility; when creating a truly abstract and absurd no limits should be set and every relation is to be destroyed paving the context to consume the sonic material.
The intro to Car’lyeh (a dream come true) is one pressing rhythmic noise piece with the heavy use of ethereal unnerving samples, establishing the psychotic and otherworldly tone. This makes the next track – layers of the machine – sound like a logical continuation of the industrial vector with lifeless techno-beat, guitar feedback and effects, and freaky vocals giving a strong Throbbing Gristle vibe. The way how abruptly parts switch adds to the eerie atmosphere and overall dreamlike feel.
With a hole within a hole Car’lyeh takes a somewhat surprising turn towards a more listener-friendly, later Nine Inch Nails brand of industrial, with an actual melody, keys in the mix, and actual singing. This track is relatively short but prepares the soil for the change of pace and style.
My Smile is your Rifle is an actual avantgarde number, that brings up the images of such visionaries as This Heat and Mr Bungle with the use of funky guitar, taping, and even more vocal extravaganza. Guitar work reminds me of the best of Wes Borland at times.
Shattered Frame is the track discussed most on the internet reviews (among the scarce mentions I managed to google). This is an artsy piece, mostly notorious because of a little rapping at the end – something you could expect from the psychedelic masterminds of Butthole Surfers.
The next track decompensation might be seen as a kind of second interlude, creating the bridge to the closing part of the album.
Spectres in the lattice of silence is when Car’lyeh shines. This is an actual hit, with all the melodic potential buried in the tonic mess in the middle of the song. But the riff kicking in at the two-minute mark is like a massive punch to the balls, reviving the spirits of Fantomas and other festival maestros.
The Ontological trap is surprisingly long, compared to other songs, and it is genuinely a tough listen. Here Shunya Cassius assaults the listener with every psych weapon at his disposal, throwing everything – from ruthless noise to sampling and endless loops. I like how impactful it is, but not how it sounds.
But collapse of the architect is pretty much the opposite – a beautiful ending to a beast of an album, which is performed in a very limited way. Mostly a little guitar mixed behind the wall of lo-fi noise and distorted singing that turns to Pere Ubu school of post-everything wave, climaxing in an actual stadium rock song. Nice.
After all, I must state that Shunya Cassius knows exactly what to do. This is the kind of deceiving “amateur” experimental that turns out to be not amateur at all. All the instruments of mayhem here serve as a way to filter the minds eager to find something interesting, something giving a truly deep descent into the psyche. And if you can take it you are on a captivating ride, about to find out that mind is a terrible thing to taste.
