When
the members of Earth come out of the studio these days they probably
have to consult calendars to find out what month it is. Their
recent output is so immersive and deep, the sound so spacious
and huge that their records are worlds unto themselves. Hex was
a mindblower. In music it’s pretty rare to hear something
that’s pretty much non-referential, that you can’t
trace the antecedents of easily. Hex was such a piece of music,
a new artistic idiom as it were.
Production is crucial to the new incarnation of Earth, not that
it wasn’t previously (although the crux of Earth 2 era Earth’s
sound was the palpable, physical resonance effects created by
interacting waves of stereophonic distortion, which could be achieved
without the kind of perfectionist refining that I imagine goes
into recording the new Earth sound), but you get the feeling listening
to The Bees Made Honey… that Earth want you to study every
swirling, reverberating microtone in the aftermath of a chord.
On “Miami Morning Coming Down II (Shine)” nearly two
minutes of the exact same two bars of guitars, bass and drums
let you view those two bars panoramically, completely, and when
finally they are broken up it is only to return again almost immediately
for more ecstatic exploration of the same mantra. The song drifts
languidly away from this repeated introduction and really blossoms
when the organ swims into the mix but always tightly wheels back
around to its initial cheery but desolate emotional timbre.
Tightness seems to constrain Earth somewhat in the first few songs.
A stiffness becomes perceptible against all odds given the graceful
fluidity of the sounds, the crash cymbal sounding like a breaking
wave, the bass a subtle, liquid complement to the proceedings,
it is the song structures that is slightly paralytic and rigid.
The fourth song, “Engine of Ruin,” is liberated by
guest guitarist Bill Frisell (a prolific, talented master of the
instrument with a Nels Cline-like diversity of discography, but
generally affiliated with the modern jazz community) and his arcing,
molten leads singing above a bracing Earth dirge. This seems to
open up the rest of the players and indeed the rest of the album
(though I really have no idea if the album was recorded in the
order of the tracks). From here on songs are flush with narrative
momentum. The patient, near-blissfully-static Earth approach isn’t
cast aside, but is modified to spin looser, more organic songs.
The last two songs have extended guitar and organ solos. Bald
repetition vanishes from Earth’s palette; even the drumming,
which is beautifully slow, delves into dynamic motion, and fills
drive song parts together. The organ sounds like a tambura on
the final track, which shares its name with the album, droning
exotically and smearing fat chords into an empyrean gauze.
Where Hex was obvious, The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s
Skull is nuanced. There’s no mistaking Hex, almost anyone
who hears, whatever their musical heritage, is pulled in; it’s
saturated with irresistible hooks and sheer novelty of sound.
To the uninitiated that novelty is present on The Bees…
in equal measure but the songs unfold more cryptically and ultimately,
just as rewardingly. (WMD)
For
fans of: James Blackshaw, Fursaxa, Labradford, John Fahey, Birchville
Cat Motel, the 1970s
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