Review Summary: better than anything Adam Downer listens to.
In his work
The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus tackles the issue regarding the meaning of life; more specifically, the aim of the book is to give sufficient reason why man should continue living with his mundane existence when the seemingly absurd and unexciting everyday routine, followed by a forgotten and definite death, is all we have to attribute to our living. Referring to Sisyphus and his never ending torture of rolling a boulder up a hill, Camus comes to the final point that the reason why life has any significance is not for any particular conclusion: there isn’t a higher state of existence that comes after this life. On the contrary, we give our own lives meaning through what we make of them, and it is the experience of living that is reason enough to continue doing so. It is our acceptance of the absurdity of life, much like Sisyphus’ acceptance of his painful chore, which gives us the strength to continue, even with the burden of our knowledge.
Sweek’s 2006 release
The Unbelievable Cinematic Crash is just a post rock album, albeit a very good one, but the way in which Camus’ existentialist perspective can be applied to it seems to give it more worth as a musical experience. Poorer imitations aside, instrumental music, in this case Sweek’s conception of post rock, is reliant on the experience given by the album. In respect to it being a piece of music, it should move you emotionally, and remove you from where you are to place you somewhere only Sweek can objectively comprehend. What reason is there to sit through this album other than that of the experience of hearing it, of allowing it to let you live out another life in its shorter time span? It can be said that this is really the aim of all such albums, but it would be folly to assume that even the majority of them really succeed in fully giving you an experience that you will cherish. Sweek, while both adhering to some typical post rock tenets and incorporating various unusual flavours, is very much an esteemed musical experience; it goes through all of its highs and lows with vigour and grace, and is as captivating as it is eloquent. Ultimately, it is the experience of the album which all together makes it worthwhile, in which you allow it to take you somewhere else in the face of its impending end. Regardless, the album itself does not really reflect the dull portrait of life that Camus so vividly expresses, but the concept of it being an experience in itself and of itself, one which gives itself meaning, is the driving force of Sweek’s appeal.
There wouldn’t be much point in describing the exact musical structure of
The Unbelievable Cinematic Crash; its heavy reliance on strings to both cushion and direct the melody is a technique already mastered by the likes of
Godspeed You! Black Emperor and
Yndi Halda, yet Sweek do not at any point seem to replicate nor imitate the aforementioned bands. The techniques may be similar, but the output is of a seemingly original quality. The particular acoustic and clean sections reminiscent of
My Education’s Bad Vibrations are tastefully done, and do very well to add further poise to the album. Although it would be wrong to completely clear them of the charge, the hugely overdone tremolo picked climaxes are not the single driving force of the album, something which unfortunately plagues the entire post rock genre. When the pace picks up, there seems to be quite an amount of different things going on, but composition is remarkably smooth; there are no gaps, leaving the album’s fluidity completely unhindered.
Opening with ‘Thanx For Sundays (Nothing to Do With Any God!)’, the band may come off as a very enjoyable amalgamation of
Yndi Halda and
My Education, but one should not let comparisons encumber what is a finely crafted and executed track. It is the second track however, in which Sweek work in a sneaky Mexican theme (given away by the track’s name – ‘Tequila Fitness Club’) that not only just ‘works’ but builds up to a rather strong and guitar heavy climax that would seem normal for the likes of
Russian Circles or
Meniscus; the song carries the weight of the album both in terms of playing time and forceful expression, but is arguably the best thing about it. ‘Iki’ is an interesting track in that its first half is far more climactic than the second, allowing a cool off period before topping off the song with a satisfying wrapping of its melody; ‘A Dead Sleeping Forest’ takes more from its title than one would expect, it being characterized by its eerie, yet somehow cheerful, composition. The album’s closer ‘Trust Me’ comes very unexpectedly; the luscious soundscapes of the entire album are strangely absent, and the majority of the song is of meaningless sound effects, with the very last two minutes throwing the listener into a frantic and comparatively abrasive strings section. In all respects, it is an extraordinarily fulfilling conclusion to an album that just doesn’t seem to miss a step.
Whether or not the Camus reference really makes sense to you is besides the point;
The Unbelievable Cinematic Crash is an experience, and it’s an experience that simply needs to be experienced. How the album differs from its contemporaries is really a matter of opinion, and dwelling on it wouldn’t be making any progress; there is no denying that this is a post rock album, and it would be absurd to try and dismiss the obvious expectations one would have when approaching the genre.
The Unbelievable Cinematic Crash does sound like other post rock records, but only in the way that would allow it to be classified as a post rock album; other than that, it easily stands up on its own. Highly recommended.
