Godspeed You Black Emperor! - F♯ A♯ ∞ (Album Review)

 

Godspeed You Black Emperor! - F♯ A♯ ∞

(1997)

My copy: 2000 reissue by Constellation.

Canada’s most famous (probably) nine-piece post-rock band made their official full-length debut in 1997 with the haunting apocalyptic broadcast of F♯ A♯ ∞. The original vinyl release of the album is much shorter and includes a few pieces that were later scrapped, while digital and CD releases are now expanded to include more material. The sole conceptual downfall of the digital and CD releases is that they are incapable of maintaining the infinite loop that occurs via the locked groove in the vinyl release. Aside from failing conceptually, the later expanded version of this album is a much more immersive experience and should be checked out. 

The A-side of the vinyl release is labeled as “Nervous, Sad, Poor…” and begins with low growling drones. A spoken word passage gives context to the atmosphere of the record: post-apocalypse with heavy allusions to nuclear destruction. Mournful strings weave a tapestry behind the dark spoken word before gentle guitars weep for the end of civilization. Stringed instruments wretch and sputter as if they were coughing up blood before the movement ends with a final passage of narration. The next movement features a sample of an old train as the sound of its labored movement is swallowed by the droning tones of effect-laden slide guitar. The album then mellows slightly with bright harmonics leading into a semi-hopeful instrumental with a southern twang. 

The best moments are able to capture the listener and suspend them in the album's conceptual world: one in which most of humanity has been wiped out. The borderline frightening stacked vocal effects and drones help to deeply immerse, and even the strangely joyful fiddle tune feels like an improvised performance played on derelict instruments. Side A ends with what feels like a joke in aimless guitar noodling as a man quips in a silly voice (It’s no wonder this was cut from future releases). Side B is labeled as “Bleak, Uncertain, Beautiful…” and opens with a sample of a street protester yelling over blaring bagpipes. 

GYBE found triumph in subtlety with their earlier arrangements: songs build with tremolos and washed out cymbals but not up to bright, obvious crescendos. Generally on F♯ A♯ ∞, tension is a focal point rather than a bridge to a predictable payoff. Swirling instrumental compositions often give way to the cries of eerie, warped vocals before relinquishing control to an ether of dark ambient sounds. The biggest peak is reached at the end of the marching rhythm and drumming that begins two thirds of the way into the B-side. Freaky voices beckon out: “Where are you going?” before the album finally collapses into the never-ending death rattle of its locked groove.

The vinyl release of F♯ A♯ ∞ does miss out on some fantastic movements that were added later, but overall it is one of the band’s most interesting creations. The music actually benefits from the lower production value here as opposed to a grander album such as Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven. This record should be heard with the lights off, and in somber spirits.