Review Summary: An ode to a soul that was taken away too early…
At the end of the '00s, God Is an Astronaut had trouble on their sonic path. After the self-titled LP, they wandered around, looking for new ideas, ultimately finding new grounds by adding heavier passages to their music. The Irish post rock group cut their teeth in the atmospheric field, rarely pushing beyond a few chunky riffs. They didn’t need to, since the first three albums excelled without them. As a result, the trio easily became a gateway to post-rock due to the catchy and straightforward structures. This is how I got into this type of music and still hold dearly on to
All is Violent, All is Bright,
The Beginning of the End &
Far from Refuge.
Lately, GIaA focused on more raucous delivery with
Helios|Erebus to great response from fans. It was natural for them to expand their horizons in this direction, borrowing some formulas from Russian Circles and Mogwai as well (whose
Every Country’s Sun seems inspired by the Irish act). Unfortunately,
Epitaph shares a darker background too: Kinsella brothers’ cousin died at only 7 years old. There’s grief poured on these tracks, nevertheless, we also receive the trademark uplifting parts like sunrays protruding in between clouds. The overall tone is set by the title track’s mournful piano, followed by swarming synths, plus a round of slow, sharp riffs. There is a subdued break in which the main theme softly returns, before the instruments start raging again. The next song, ‘Mortal Coil’ shares a rather upbeat rhythm with a catchy bass line. The guitars kick in through several outbursts, especially during the latter half where they create powerful washes of effects-soaked walls of distortion. Grandiose staccato leads soon cover them, until a lovely acoustic guitar accompanied by airy synth pads gorgeously put things to an end. I must admit I wasn’t expecting the band to offer such a blissful coda.
Moreover, ‘Séance Room’ mixes old school, smooth God Is an Astronaut guitar leads, while the bass builds up in the background towards dirtier segments. They get less melodic, still there’s a constant switch between eerie and post metal moments. The keyboards to their best to add to the overall vibe, however, the noisy patterns are the true climax that craft one of the darkest tunes in their catalog so far. As ‘Komorebi’ brings forth a melancholic calmness to
Epitaph, the guys venture further into somber territory with ‘Medea’. The moody synths take the forefront here, but what I hoped was to witness another ruthless string intervention. Sadly, it never arrives as the band preferred to let the electronic elements sink in this time. Most of their early songs don’t surpass 4 minutes in length, so, thankfully, the more complex structures displayed lately allow them to carve more complex journeys.
We reach quite fast the closing number, ‘OisÃ*n’, dedicated to the brothers’ late cousin. I was expecting to be a monster tune, but the group opted not to dig in the darkness that precedes it. Instead, it offers a bittersweet piano melody aided by faint synths, akin to ‘Komorebi’. From this move, I understand we have reached a breaking point where we realize nothing will bring the past back, so it’s better to accept the circumstance and try to move on.
Epitaph gradually stripped away the anger and grief, in order to finally find peace. Hammock would be proud of God Is an Astronaut. In the end, this isn’t a perfect record, however, it’s one that showcases the newfound sonic strengths. I believe they can be further exploited by the Irish act. They should challenge themselves to build more intricate songs using these dynamics.
