#35007

Isis: Panopticon (2004)

Panopticon (noun) pan·​op·​ti·​con pə-ˈnäp-ti-ˌkän:

an optical instrument combining the telescope and microscope;

a circular prison (*) built with cells arranged radially so that a guard at a central position can see all the prisoner

These definitions, supported by thought-provoking quotes (**) and illustrated by wrap-around CD artwork (***), provide the conceptual framework for Isis' third long-player, which considered the pervasive increase of surveillance technology in modern society.

And good thing they did, because, as with many Isis LPs, Panopticon takes a minimalist approach to lyrics, usually casting just a few scattered verses of evocative but highly subjective imagery into vast, deliberate, atmospheric post-metal epics.

Think I'm exaggerating?

Well, I'm not; here's all the verbal context you get from the seven-and-half-minute "So Did We":

"Our skin worn thin; Our bones exposed; Life reduced to ticks.

From forest caves and azure skies; We crashed upon this earth; The years they passed and so did we; But resistance would be brought."

Or this, from the eight-and-a-half-minutes of "Grinning Mouths":

"Magistrates dream of plague; Tongues loll in anticipation; You are awake in their darker visions; Drool slips from grinning mouths.

The plague is forced on us all; Is it there? Are they there? Shouts of fact abound; But whispers of truth burn through.

Is it there? Are they there? Is it there? Are they there?"

But that's OK, because this apparent, almost monastic calling to take a vow of silence was already manifesting (and would continue to do so) in countless, fully instrumental post-metal ensembles, so Isis, by comparison, actually still had a lot to say.

After all, "Altered Course" is the only true instrumental here (the striking "Wills Dissolve" might as well be), and it earns that right with a slow-morphing, cinematic array of melodies, riffs, and rhythms -- plus a guest appearance from Tool bassist Justin Chancellor.

Anyway, when it came to its sonics, Panopticon only differed from the band's preceding commercial and critical breakthrough, 2002's Oceanic, in that it sacrificed some of its root hardcore-rawness and sludge-distortion for a smoother, more compressed, but still very forceful production.

The end results, while thoroughly engrossing, lead me to borrow jargon from the streaming world when I say that Oceanic, and even more so Isis' 2000 debut, Celestial, felt like a lean-forward listening experiences, while Panopticon invites listeners to lean back and let its dense, protracted sonics sweep over and envelop them.

In fact, I do believe the alternating power chord tsunamis and aqueous melodies of "In Fiction," "Backlit," and "Syndic Calls" owe a sizable inspirational debt to mysterious Dutch ensemble 35007 (****) and 2002's incredible Liquid ... go listen for yourself.

Nevertheless, Panopticon was a phenomenal record by any measure that, like all Isis' efforts, helped define post-metal trends for years to come, and its thematic warnings about the dangers of a surveillance society are obviously still relevant, 20 years on.

* See diagram above.

** From philosophers, technologists, and futurists like Michel Foucault, Jeremy Bentham, Howard Rheingold, and Alex Steffen.

*** Which turned the hazy but expansive eye-in-the-sky cover image into a contiguous landscape, and was sadly technically impossible to replicate for this vinyl reissue.

**** Upside-down for 'Loose,' in calculator spelling, a.k.a. Beghilos.

Stoner Rock: i migliori 20 dischi degli anni 90

Cosa è lo stoner rock? Lo stoner rock è un “non genere” in quanto non ha delle caratteristiche precise che lo rende immediatamente riconoscibile ma fondamentalmente lo si può tradurre come “musica per cannabinoidi”, “musica per sballati”, “musica per drogati”. E’ uno stile musicale che nasce come evoluzione della psichedelia (prendendo soprattutto ispirazione dai primi Pink Floyd e dagli…

35007, “Liquid”

2002 Album Stickman Records Eindhoven, Netherlands

Lengthy intro is well worth it. Space rock that will take you on an emotional trip that simulates that peaceful yet brilliant sense of being underwater, at times disorienting you with the hit of an undercurrent.

Bandcamp

Label Site

Boris: Akuma No Uta (2003)

You may wanna play this song -- and ‘medicate’ yourself accordingly -- before reading on ...

Today, Tokyo, Japan’s Boris need little introduction, at least among hip fans of indie/stoner/doom/drone/experimental music, as the prolific, microphone-swapping trio of Wata (guitar/keyboards), Takeshi (guitar/bass), and Atsuo (drums) has churned out nearly 50 recorded works since they formed in 1992.

Easily identifiable by its rather clever, Nick Drake/Bryter Layter-inspired cover art, the 20-year-old Akuma No Uta was the group’s fifth long-player (not counting their many collaborations with other artists) and its title, I only recently discovered, translates to ‘The Devil’s Song.’ 

Which may explain (along with Boris’ association with Southern Lord) why a promotional copy of the CD was once shipped to my West 27th Street studio apartment, where I routinely supplemented my meager music industry income by writing passionate and often vitriolic heavy metal reviews for the All-Music Guide.

And I did, in fact, submit one for Akuma No Uta, stating that the album “offers a back-to-front cross-section of the Japanese trio’s entire career, in all of its many stylistic varieties,” though I honestly can’t remember if I knew that for sure or was just taking a flyer in those misty days before all-you-can-eat music streaming.

In any case, I was almost literally knocked off my feet by the album’s frugally, criminally-named “Intro” (the same track I linked to overhead), which unleashed a series of reverberant, rumbling, tectonic shockwaves, and remains one of the most exceptional examples of droning stoner rock riff/tone/feedback-sculpting I’ve ever encountered.

Later revisited in rather-less life-altering fashion by Akuma No Uta’s similarly instrumental, ragged reprise of a title track, that initial, near-ten-minute excursion showed Boris could go amp-to-amp with just about anyone, even formidable label mates like Earth and Sunn 0))), and they soon would.

If only the rest of the album were as impressive, or even cut from the same sonic cloth, I might now own a dozen Boris LPs, but ensuing numbers like “Ibitsu,” “Furi,” and “Ano Onna No Onryou,” delivered comparatively unsurprising outbursts of rudely distorted acid/garage/psych: think The Stooges or Spine of God-era Monster Magnet -- wilder, faster, heavier, but frankly not as good.

And then there’s the twelve-minute “Naki Kyoku,” which takes a little too long, if you ask me, to abandon its psychedelic beginnings for extended vocal-chanting, guitar-strangling, bass-twiddling, and drum-abusing over ambient space rock on its way to a shuddering feedback-laced climax that could level Tokyo like ... you know who.

And it probably did!

All kidding aside, if I’d known two decades ago, as I sat pondering these sounds in my crumbling Manhattan studio (now probably renting for $3,000/month or some such outrageous sum!) that Boris allegedly captured all of these tracks to analog tape in ONE take, my respect for their achievement would have grown tenfold.

And despite my personal ambivalence, Akuma No Uta did a lot to raise Boris’ career profile beyond Japan (they were even astute enough to tap into the Nick Drake revival initiated by “Pink Moon’s” appearance in that Volkswagen commercial), and it was great fun to witness the band’s explosive performance in some long-forgotten hole-in-the-wall at SXSW 2007.

Plus, there’s always that perfect “Intro,” which I’ve been spinning on repeat for almost a week while preparing this blog, and even as I tap this final punctuation.