Review Summary: Instantly accessible but endlessly captivating, Dün’s "Eros" is an under appreciated landmark of progressive music.
It’s really quite rare for an album to make an immediate impression on me akin to the way I first felt while indulging in the aural intensities of
Eros in its entirety. A record so tight, lacking any dull stretch and ridden of a single meandering anticlimactic apex, something that can all but only be said by the genre’s most qualifying contemporaries.
Eros is a masterpiece of abstract, atonal and dissonant atmosphere. Dün’s first, and unfortunately only studio outing gallops along at its own pace, throwing conventional to the wind at every turn as well as breaking barriers and constructing new ones during its thirty-six minutes of play time. There’s a lot to be said here about how upon first listen it’s almost impossibly difficult to avoid being engulfed and transfixed, a statement to which most progressive bands wouldn’t dare claim and while it may seem accessible at first, repeated listens soon reveal that
Eros is far from simplistic. Indeed, there is infinitely more to Dün’s sole masterwork than that which initially hits the ear.
Eros consists of four tracks, each not completely unlike the rest. There’s a common haunting, ethereal and almost unnerving theme throughout which sets for no shortage of schizophrenic tempo changes, synchronized brain melting grooves and incongruent jazz influenced piano chords. Spontaneous, anemic drum patterns are scattered sparsely compared to genre standards but are so neatly and masterfully displaced one hardly notices, in place is an array of percussion-based instruments that range from bongos to xylophones. The thrill ride begins with the albums opening number, L’espice, which starts with a heavy flute-driven lead that makes it’s way to one of the records more memorable and righteous jams. Staccato jazz-esque seventh chords set up a nesting place for a nasally perfect lead guitar solo, followed by what could easily be the most brain-melting seven minutes this reviewer has ever heard and one of the more intense parts of the whole record. Dün tames it down on the following track, “Arrakis,” which is a standout, woodwind driven, slowed tempo LSD infused chilled out anthem. The records second track leads the listener into a trance of sorts only to surprise and startle half way through as a straight 4/4 drum onslaught burst out of nowhere, led by piano chords and flute/guitar harmony. Absolutely ripping. I’ll save description of the record’s second half because the momentous intensity of what follows simply cannot be put to justice in words.
What started as a tribute to Frank Herbert’s timeless fictional novel, Dune, ended all too shortly with only a single record to carry out and represent the legacy of the band. Released under contract with an underground French record label by the name of Soleil Atreides in 1981,
Eros, sadly and evidently never received much distribution, if any throughout wider channels, suffocating any chance it might have had at making a widespread influential impact. As a result, the record itself is all but impossible to find. While Dün would never, or even attempt to best their first and only full length release, the legend remains as
Eros stands atop a solemn and unforgotten list of progressive music’s more overlooked and compellingly underrated. An album that if given the time will reward leaps and bounds to what one may assume possible upon initial listen.
Eros is arguably one of the most magnificent avant-garde progressive pieces of music the world will ever see and is by all means essential listening.
