Brise-Glace - When In Vanitas... (Album Review)

 

Brise-Glace - When In Vanitas…

(1994)

My copy: 1994 press by Skin Graft Records.

The only full-length record from experimental noise-rock super-group Brise-Gace, When In Vanitas… is threatening and yet subtly mesmerizing. Featuring Thymme Jones (Cheer-Accident, etc.) on drums, Darin Gray (Dazzling Killmen, etc.) on bass, Dylan Posa (Flying Luttenbachers, etc.) on guitar plus Jim O’Rourke on various instruments alongside engineering by Albini: this one-off LP is mostly a collage of quiet, nervous energy and unnerving, punishing noise. 

Beginning with faint static, layered as if it were the dull hum of a plane in flight, “Neither Yield Nor Reap” sets a very particular atmosphere. The guitar slowly rises into the spotlight, as accompanying notes leisurely ring out at the very edge of what one might call “melody.” Meshes of noise rise and fall like the deep breathing of some ancient giant before silence is interrupted by a haunted drum loop. Industrial moans and hisses adorn the lo-fi beat, as if the performance were taking place in an active factory -  drones gasping and gliding like a chill down one’s spine. “Host Of Latecomers” is one of the most paranoid and uneasy recordings committed to vinyl, relying on a low, wide-room ambiance and the faintest of sounds (guitar string hesitation, glitching electronics, etc.). These men have created the audio equivalent of purgatory, or perhaps the terrifying numbness of sleep paralysis as the sound of abrupt furniture creaks and momentary clangs sound off at random in the darkness. There are occasionally grooves for bass and drums, gnarly and unusual as they are, such as the destroyed, syncopated beats of “Stump Of A Drowner,” which is also home to their most melodic guitar performances in the vein of Slint.

The two final tracks are their longest experiments, and this indulgence can certainly be one of the downfalls of the album, though they manage to remain creative even in relative pretension. The warped electronic pulse of “Restrained From Do And Will Not (Leave)” fades to a booming primal splatter of tom drums and cymbals with bleeding guitar feedback. The guitars claw and hack until the cymbals fragment and split into two layers; creating a polyrhythmic effect as the low, resonant tom drums desperately clatter for control of the structure. The tracks frequently stop suddenly and reboot, here with dead, higher tuned tom drums now taking the reins. The back half is more quiet buzzing, like the dread-inducing whir of some far-off alien machine, though this movement lingers far too long. 

Sorrowful and dissonant guitar opens grand finale “One Syntactical Unit,” a sweeping 24-minute jigsaw-puzzle of found sounds and atonal longing. Drums come and go, and a hypnotic drone rides patiently through the mid-section of the song, unraveling semi-sweetly like a distant aurora over an otherwise frigid and desolate land. Riffs and radio samples come and go like old memories before a drum pattern locks into place, eventually overwhelmed by the rising helicopter hum of the guitars. The last five minutes then explode into a myriad of harrowing high-frequency noises; from shattering objects to whines and rattles, as if a mic had been placed at the epicenter of some monumental natural disaster or demolition site. It is only fitting then, that these pranksters should conclude with a brief sample of lo-fi infomercial-ready jazz music from a distant radio. 

When In Vanitas… is a challenging and openly hostile environment, but it is one that deeply rewards those who view sound as an escape into other worlds. What is presented by O’Rourke and crew is some strange and fearful plain, one that represents deep anxieties and evolutionary fears. There are times where their experimentation is overwhelming or perhaps even eye-rolling, but this is fascinating and unique work that evokes a sense unlike most other albums through creative use of sound.