Review Summary: You crash and fall in the sky like a shooting star
My relationship with Moving Mountains has been, perhaps fittingly, filled with peaks and valleys. I got hooked on the band with the breathtakingly ambient post-rock of 2007’s
Pneuma, only to be mildly let down by the more straightforward rock approach of 2011’s
Waves. Their self-titled record felt like a slight recovery, but it still lacked the tangible, aching emotional component that initially drew me to them. With
Pruning of the Lower Limbs – Moving Mountains’ first album in twelve years – I can finally proclaim that they’ve recaptured that essential spark. And my, is it beautiful.
Pruning of the Lower Limbs sees the band once again shift its sound, this time towards a stunning blend of indie-rock and their classic, atmospheric post-rock. From the moment that opener ‘Ghosts’ glides in on its cool, dazzlingly spacious ambience – eventually joined by elegant pianos and earthy drums – it’s clear that this is going to be the kind of record you can let your guard down to. There’s an immediate vulnerability and sincerity when Dunn sings out, with soft clarity and ever-growing passion, “I find it cruel to be holding on to you / I take it down with a glass that's half-deserving.” Like
Pruning on the whole, the mood is somber but also reflective and content. It acknowledges that sustaining wounds is inevitable as you grow older, yet it’s that same age and wisdom that allows you to place it all in perspective (“I won't regret if I need to sit down here and catch my breath / Hey, it’s not that bad”). Moving Mountains are perhaps at their most stripped back and emotionally exposed on the acoustically-driven ‘Blue’, which paints a picture of someone left utterly alone with their thoughts on a hillside during a clear summer night: “The stars fall down / I'm high as a mountain, blow through the trees / You're the anchor, I'm a summer breeze.” As the song progresses, though, it wanders further away from poetic imagery and sinks further into the troubled mind of the narrator: “Trying not to lose sleep, I've sunken deep in my mind / I wanna die / Call up your best friends, tell 'em you're good / I'm trying not to lose mysеlf, when it's easy.” Similar shades of remorse, contemplation, and quiet resolution pervade
Pruning of the Lower Limbs, making it a deeply personal experience from front to end.
Where
Pruning of the Lower Limbs quickly endears itself to listeners emotionally, it just as easily captivates with its soaring melodies and pristine production. On the striking ‘Everyone Is Happy, and Nothing Is Good’ we’re swept up in a cool summer breeze replete with a simmering, sticky-sweet chorus capable of melting away all your worries: “Don't expect it to change just yet / It's water under thе bridge / And yet, we'rе here.” Meanwhile, ‘Cars’ rains down on us with an avalanche of driving percussion and winding, iridescent guitars. ‘Snow On Norris Street’ – practically equidistantly positioned between punk and alt-country – prevents
Pruning’s gorgeous, hauntingly mellow atmosphere from ever becoming too sleepy.
Still, it would be a bit disingenuous to pretend that
Pruning of the Lower Limbs is anything
other than a beautifully glowing ember. It’s the sort of album you listen to on night drives, when stuck in isolation with your thoughts, when enduring a heart wrenching breakup, or when you find yourself in search of answers you don’t currently possess. It’s a guide and companion. Closer ‘Wedding Clothes’ is perhaps the best song on the entire album, rounding up all the pain, confusion, and introspection into one rousing moment of lucidity and triumph, all lifted on the backend by ramped-up guitars and a sudden sense of revitalized purpose: “I thought this would've killed me / Do you have the time to hear me out? You seem to have it all so figured out / Who you are is not who you think you are / You crash and fall in the sky like a shooting star.” With stunning background vocals, the song winds to a soft closing chant: “I want you now, I want you hеre…warm glows from you to me.”
Although no record is likely to live up to the group’s celebrated debut in the eyes of long-time fans,
Pruning of the Lower Limbs may actually prove to be Moving Mountains’ most enduring effort. It’s their most consistent album by an appreciable margin, and every song tugs at a heartstring, thought, or memory that gives it lasting life. Each time
Pruning washes over you, it carves out a slightly bigger room in your mind. That’s the kind of record that’s not just easy to cozy up to, but that makes revisiting it a memory in itself. After twelve years away – and even longer since they’ve crafted something so strongly affecting – it’s nice to know that Moving Mountains are still capable of moving
us.
