Review Summary: You are traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind.
Subjectivity drives us towards the music we love. All of us are on a musical journey: we all have the same destination – satisfaction. Whether swept away under waves of emotional hardship, struck dumb by technical proficiency, driven to distractions by lyrics that speak to us, or merely a perfect soundtrack to a club at 2.30am, the truly great works have one spark in common: the best albums design worlds, create atmospheres, immerse the listener in walls of sound and refuse to loosen their grip until the last note rings out. These characteristics are defined to perfection on
Terminal, the second full length album from Washington IDM/ambient/noise producer Virtual Blaze.
Drenched from head to toe in vulnerability and melancholy,
Terminal is not to be digested in single parts - but rather than be consumed in one whole, the album sets out to play hunter to the prey of the listener. Where debut effort
Five Years Later cut a brash, abrasive figure, driven by rough, dubstep beats from start to finish, this new effort takes a side step, cranks up the ambience, and invites the listener into the mind of the creator, baring their torment and showing their scars via a twisting, evolving, lurid soundscape. It takes a lot to convey weakness and genuine emotion in one’s songwriting at the best of times, but when this project is overwhelmingly synthetic and predominantly instrumental, this becomes all the more impressive. The relentless rhythms of ‘Ragdoll Iceberg’ and ‘Fear (A Song For Nathan)’ are not borne of a crass desire to make a more accessible hit, but they conjure up imagery of an artist battling against his own mental turmoil, perhaps something of an emotional migraine?
Another fascinating feature of this record is a seeming refusal to settle – even at its most tender moments (and there are plenty of these on offer – ‘Mudwater’ and ‘Little Space’ being the prime instrumental examples), any concepts of serenity and calm are dashed before one has a chance to relax. These themes are not so much ripped open with brute force but the edges are nibbled at, subtle glitches and quiet buzzing creating doubt, seeming non-sequiturs and samples adding to a sense of distraction and unrest, and then when the truly violent soundscapes throw themselves into the frame (‘Desensitized’ and ‘An Upset Child’), they are alive with disarming colour and violent schizophrenia.
Lyrically, while Blaze offers few sparing smatterings of his singing voice, he has developed an outstanding contrast to his bleak creations. His voice is reminiscent of a blend of Ian Curtis, Morrissey and Elbow’s Guy Garvey, almost deadpan in delivery and never overbearing, but given room to melt into the surroundings – again telling a vivid story of a pain we will never know, never giving anything specific away, but opening his heart for public consumption. The sweetest moment can be found on closer 'I'll Take Care Of You', where thanks to a fine vocal performance, and an amalgamation of seemingly mismatching effects and synthetic swells under a gentle, lo-fi acoustic chord progression, a true sense of strength and determination can be found, almost as a sign of triumph over the preceding nine tracks.
In short, Virtual Blaze has found the perfect blend of his accessible album material and his more obscure noise E.P recordings, and has presented it in the most gorgeously produced package anyone could hope for. A phenomenal release.
