#miriodor

It was more than tempting to begin this review with “This is far from grandparents’ prog!” It’s not quite true, or maybe it’s better to say that certain prog tributaries flow and pulse just below the surface of this constantly changing and endlessly amusing hipness. A bit of Gentle Giant’s rhythmic and contrapuntal “modernist” intrigue, some of Albert Marcœur’s or Matts/Morgan’s sonic zaniness, some Henry Cow or Samla Mammas Manna dissonance and more than a nod to the fabled Canterbury groups, even some raucousness a la early Present: all infuse this gorgeously recorded disc, but none of that really comes close to capturing Miriodor’s cheeky transparency. Dig into “Alambic”’s quasi-palindromic sonar-signal opening and closing to hear the kinds of wit brought to the table, but that, as the late and lamented Gilli Smyth has it, is only the beginning of the story. Aquatic synths spin a mystical narrative soon overtaken by stuttering pseudo-modernity in ricocheting  rhythmic timbre, as we also hear on the album’s final track. “Alambic” turns suddenly heavy and even dower until, at 2:05, the sun hockets its way through those clouds in a flurry of guitar and keys interplay. Speaking of keys, a bit of fun in felicitous retrograde begins at 3:55, opening the way to a vignette of airy groove with crystalline drumming to match. The sonar unifies and separates the various sections, but no amount of analysis does the fancy-tickling electronics any favors as they burble and warble along. 

The album is rife with those changes, as when the subterranean rumbles opening “Tour de Main” slam headlong into a sensually loping groove leading ultimately to some jerkily whole-tone goodness and a bit of bad-ass bottom-heavy orchestral exploration including some snarky industriality into the bargain. In fact, each sound the trio makes is a part of that counterpoint, a rapidly evolving syntax of phrases that may or may not coalesce into lines and paragraphs as they dance, drone or jingle their effortless way forward.

It could be the effortlessness that makes the subtle and not so subtle humor work. There is something so facile about these compositions, so inevitable and so right at every unpredictable turn, even when an anachronistic bluesy guitar solo  kicks in or when bits of found sound make their presences felt rather than simply heard. The musicianship is second to none, and that fact just adds to the album’s categorical difficulties. As with their prog/RIO colleagues, Miriodor offers up music of narrative grace and often heart-stopping beauty that always seems to cock just a bit of a snook at its multivalent points of origin, and so much the better. Prog needs more of this sort of thing!