The tracks on Ohms largely run together, creating a
single musical experience. It opens, with “Soul Sequencer,” which begins with
an eerie call from an electric mountain top, an intelligence reaching to us,
drawing us toward it, then scanning us, testing us. When they’ve completed
their initial work, the track suddenly takes on a steady beat. We are welcomed,
perhaps, through a door into some sort of factory, where people are being
duplicated, multiplied, but without eyes, sliding off the assembly line and
having to feel their way through metal debris. It is fascinating, horrifying. Would
it be wrong to dance to this? It helps, doesn’t it? We find a release. Then, as that track segues into “Nitrous Cross,” we are dropped into a darker space,
with tiny lights piercing us from above, here and there, the air thick, and
stirred around us by an unseen hand. We have no footing, and feel like we are
about to drop farther, but instead end up floating. Soon, in “Shadow Circuit,”
we find ourselves in a grid, each of us assigned a number, which is emblazoned
in light on our chests, like glowing tattoos. People flash by, are added to,
multiplied, and afraid of being subtracted. We move closer and closer to the
machine, the sound growing louder, to learn our fate. But then we are through,
and the rest recede behind us. What has happened? We look back, but vision is
muddied now. Yet around us is a peaceful feeling at last, and we close our
eyes. It doesn’t last long, however, and there seems to be danger as we move
through “Blame Shifter,” and the slow beat that emerges seems to hold us in
place, to promise some intrigue. People lumber by in the shadows, carrying
sharp tools, weapons, and we try to blend in, but we’ve been drugged and have
little control. In “Spirit Duplicator,” a new electronic voice appears, pushes
away everything else, calls our focus to it, demands it, allowing us to see
nothing else, to hear nothing else. We are all ears and eyes, and this force
enters us everywhere. This track suddenly ends, and there is a brief pause
before “Nobody Knows,” when a new group comes out of the shadows, out of the
silence, shaking censers, and pulling behind them some heavy chains. Before we
can see what is at the other end of the chains, the track ends. In “Sadness In
Wires,” we are alone again, feeling despondent, and yet also holding a bit of
hope in our isolation. Things begin to shift and fade, and perhaps none of this
is real, just something we are hearing on a radio.
The second side opens with “State
Of Clear,” and things seem fine now. We have a good groove, one we can move to,
and are in familiar territory. Perhaps things aren’t completely perfect, but we
can move freely here, the sound closer to rock, to pop, to recognizable
landscapes, and we are put at ease. But just as we get comfortable, reality
shifts again toward darkness with “Sleep Crime,” a foreboding, a sense of something
ominous runs along our skin. We slow, look around. Something is there,
something dangerous, something frightening, but we can’t quite see it. No light
can penetrate its form long enough to define it. We just pray it will pass us.
Then, with “Knowing,” we are dropped into a cool, psychedelic spot, where maybe
things are strange, but nothing is harmful. We know we can handle whatever may
happen here, for none of it is likely real anyway. Things are loose. Then we turn
a corner we hadn’t expected to be there, pass through a curtain into a mellower
place, “Splendid Sun,” and whatever is here has been here for a long time. Then
in “Ohms,” it is like we are taught how to control this place, or at least how
to keep from having it control us. We test it, turn things up here and there,
find we like it. It is like we have a handle on this new reality now. So then
when this new thing comes thumping in, “Out Of View,” it feels like it is
entering, even invading, our own territory. That is how involved we are at this
point. We have adapted. And so, in “Psychic Wounds,” we are okay, lighter now.
And any wounds can be healed, though there is a desire for sleep, for rest.
With “Silicone Emotions,” the sounds once again become more electronic, but not
frightening. Have we fully become part of the machinery? Is this our voice reaching
out now to another? To someone we wish to pull in? The message fades. The album
concludes with “Octave Cycle,” and now there is a curiosity, but not a fear, of
what is out there, and of what is in there. Something is approaching, but we
stand fast, letting its force pass like a breeze, rippling our skin. Its beat
is our beat. We hold and let go simultaneously. There is a peace and a freedom
even among the clamor and the coming darkness.
Record Track List
Side A
- Soul Sequencer
- Nitrous Cross
- Shadow Circuit
- Blame Shifter
- Spirit Duplicator
- Nobody Knows
- Sadness In Wires
- State Of Clear
- Sleep Crime
- Knowing
- Splendid Sun
- Ohms
- Out Of View
- Psychic Wounds
- Silicone Emotions
- Octave Cycle
Ohms was released in Europe on March 6, 2020, and will be released
in the United States on April 3, 2020.
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