Review Summary: Chaotic. Catatonic.
Hiraeth is catastrophic and catatonic within almost the same breath. It is a dizzying whirr of gnarled rasps resonating defeat, crashing cymbals corresponding with chaos, discordant riffs dancing alongside flurries of violin and horns. Six members contribute vocals, often in unified gang shouts, often as backing to the more visceral screams. It hodgepodges skramz, post-metal, blackgaze, orchestral arrangements and mayhaps a touch of midwest-emo. It is stuffed to the ***ing
brim with many a sound to a level that many bands would come across as stuffy or portentous but Respire evade this by crafting music that is simply too damn
jubilant for this to be a possibility. The album title should contradict such a notion, with Hiraeth being a Welsh term for grief, equal parts longing, homesickness, and lamentation. However, Respire tackle such longing with fervor and beauty in an almost abstract sense of the word.
This odd dichotomy is present the moment the dizzying discordance of “Keening” begins with off time drum patterns, drunken rasps from multiple members that are equal portions joyous and melancholic, and noisy staccato riffs. This cluttered disassemblage seamlessly comes into form as it all rampantly swells to a vicious climax, before subsiding into a long and pleasant refrain that again swells like a voracious tide, with massive blast beats and
immensely captivating violins that serve as a wholesome end to a track that is almost lost in its own turbulence. There are songs that also diverge these aspects further and keep the isolates more to themselves, i.e “The Match, Consumed” being -almost- constantly high-octane and even containing a tincture of lividity to it, or “Home of Ash” spending the majority of its runtime in a warm and blissful comatose before any great energy has its comeuppance (in which it does so with wild intensity, mind you). Considering how ambitious and layered this record is, these moments of distinction are key in preventing homogeny even if it is seldom that Respire let up from merging -some- sort of arrangement of twinkly guitar leads/messy choirs/triumphant symphonies/mournful post-rock build-ups/blackgaze-esque blast beats.
Hiraeth is sweeping grandeur like endless mountain peaks. It is rage that streams like swift miasmas of volcanic smoke, it is the infinite oceans of nothing that grow ever darker at the ends of their depth. It is a great amalgamation of every positive and negative aspect of the human spirit, but within this it carries a motif, that in this beautiful and frightening and perplexing array of emotions that wear into our skin, our interconnection is the greatest healing salve. It is the only thing that tethers us to any concept of “higher” purpose, and is, even in times of unimaginable grief, something that makes us feel grounded. Maybe the only thing.
“The fabric which separates us is far thinner than you think–it is being worn out, it is ready to be torn. While we bicker and fight our brothers and sisters, the world burns, the forests die, the rich pillage, our future fades. The planet’s slow death knows no race. It knows no gender. There is no scapegoat for our sins; we have only to look in the mirror to see who killed the world. Wake up. We are all guilty. We can all be saved.”
