Dusk, with its fading light, symbolizes a dying planet, embodying the Earth’s decline due to environmental degradation and unsustainable human practices. This twilight metaphor highlights the gradual loss of ecological vibrancy, serving as a poignant reminder of the urgent need to address these issues before it’s too late, transforming the daily transition into a larger tale about our planet’s precarious future. A reliquary is a practice from antiquity, involving the preservation of relics, which are believed to be the physical remains of saints, within ornately decorated vessels. These sacred containers are sought out by devotees for blessings and comfort, serving as tangible connections to the divine and the historical figures venerated within various faith traditions.

Melbourne-based darkwave duo Ov Pain, composed of New Zealanders Renee Barrance and Tim Player, delves into existential themes with their latest offering, Reliquary of Dusk, released through Melbourne’s It Records. Known for their exploratory approach to music, Ov Pain consistently forges new paths with each album.  The Barrance-Player collaboration is known for its adventurous spirit, as evidenced by their varied discography. However, with Reliquary of Dusk, they appear to have honed in on a musical direction that aligns closely with their 2022 work Kauri Island and the lauded The Churning Blue of Noon from 2021. The former showcased a commitment to a slower pace, richer textures, and a minimalist approach, with melodies that were straightforward yet captivating in their repetition. Reliquary of Dusk continues this trend, presenting a refined, atmospheric, and introspective sound. The duo aims to craft an experience that embraces simplicity, allowing listeners ample space to immerse themselves in the music’s complex layers and draw their own interpretive insights.

“Dusk seems an especially operative noun in the context of the historical-material moment,” the band reflects. “It might be thought that we’re living through a moment much akin to dusk, with a bleak future ahead, a future of perpetual darkness. Perhaps.”

Reliquary of Dusk unfolds as an entirely electronic creation, where layered synth drones meld into minimalist rhythms, creating a complex tapestry of slow-emerging melodies that weave and bubble into existence. Barrance’s vocals hover ethereally, offering a seductive yet misleading serenade that unveils grim realities and a sense of existential unease. Her voice, with its gothic nuances, occupies a unique space that recalls the distinctive folk-inflected tones of artists like Nico or Cosey Fanni Tutti, and at times, carries echoes of a feminine Marc Almond. It’s a voice that blends cold, spectral, and industrial elements, yet remains captivatingly alluring despite—or perhaps because of—these characteristics. The fusion of these elements, coupled with Barrance’s adept improvisation, culminates in a harmonious work that echoes the distinct styles of Muslimgauze, Coil, Julee Cruise, and Dead Can Dance.

The songs featuring vocals on the album are compelling; they delve into the recklessness and excessive waste of the Anthropocene era. Barrance is direct in addressing these issues, leaving no room for light-heartedness. The usual optimism found in pop music is tempered, yet pop’s presence is not entirely dismissed. Instead, it’s presented with a sophisticated polish, inviting serious consideration of its substance.

On Evil Hour features the ethereal, chilling vocals of Barrance, setting a mood that reflects on the dangers of mistaking hubris for progress. Through her lyrics, Barrance critiques the contemporary conflation of greed with success and the vulnerability of Western ideals. Illusion and superficiality in human interactions and achievements suggest a sense of emptiness and the transient nature of glory, with an underlying message about the inevitability of change and the search for meaning. Silver Gate depicts a scene of manipulation and deceit, where people are drawn together by superficial attractions and become entangled in duplicitous transactions. The repetition of being “forced unstuck by the fluro shore” suggests a disruptive event or realization that breaks the cycle of deceit, hinting at a potential escape or awakening.

Saturn evokes the feeling of impending closeness to both life’s delicate beginnings – and its inevitable end. We are presented with a gradual approach to reality, marked by decay and transformation, highlighting the contrast between observers and the cursed. The deceptive nature of reality is portrayed as a Prism of L, and the entrapment within fear. The song explores themes of division, the stifling of diversity, and the daily monotony of life under these illusions. The act of unveiling truth is depicted as a revelation of the world’s inherent chaos, questioning the existence of purpose, love, and hate within this framework, and the desire for retribution.

“Are we living in a kind of dusk?” the band asks. “Is perpetual night ahead of us? Should we seek solace in the relics from the past? Or should we all get with the program and march with accelerated emphasis toward our global demise such that we get it over and done with asap and rejuvenation can henceforth begin?”

While Barrance occasionally offers a semblance of romantic respite, her voice, with its siren-like foreboding, never softens the stark portrayal of the apocalyptic reality she aims to underscore. Similarly, the drone backdrops created by the band are more likely to provoke tension than tranquility. The compositions themselves are intriguing oddities, reflecting the uneasy journey towards our collective end—a journey that, inevitably, carries a degree of discomfort.

Reliquary of Dusk may provide just the right space for one to ponder these thoughts. Good luck out there.

Listen to the album below, and order it here.

Reliquary of Dusk was recorded and mixed by Simon Maisch and mastered by Lawrence English.

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The post Listen to New Zealand Darkwave Duo OV Pain’s New Album “Reliquary of Dusk” appeared first on Post-Punk.com.

Flying synapses are they in my mind or not

I got space to the brim I can waste it 

But this place is grim and I hate it

Versatility is often the hallmark of an adept composer. Seja’s third album, “Here is One I Know You Know,” serves as a testament to this. The record, an homage to analogue and her cherished synthesizers, underscores her evolution as an artist. Emanating from her intimately set home studio in Brisbane, the album melds the pulsating rhythms of synths, drum machines, and computer bongos, harmoniously juxtaposed with her distinct, mellifluous voice. The result? An album that not only pushes boundaries but also showcases Seja’s profound capability to intertwine disparate musical elements.

Diving into “Here is One I Know You Know,” one isn’t merely partaking in a musical dalliance, but entering an affair rich in synthetic melody and nuance. There’s a resonance of an artist who both strikes a chord and woos it with the fervor of a seasoned romantic. Her pop proclivities are as effervescent as champagne bubbles, yet, this songbird refuses to let her notes be confined. One moment, she’s enveloping us in the ghostly embrace of dreampop and the sentimental allure of 90s neo-psych, and the next, she’s guiding us through the rhythmic maze of psychedelic krautrock funk and the shadowed corners reminiscent of a 1980s memory. Through it all, Seja’s songwriting – whimsical, deeply personal, and with a flair that lures us into her melodious web. She has truly outdone herself with this gorgeous record.

“I was listening to a lot of Harmonia and Brian Eno, as well as Yellow Magic Orchestra and was really loving the relationship between their layered electronic and acoustic instruments, says Seja. “I tried to sing and write from the heart without masking the meaning behind metaphors.”

The album opens with All Your Sorries, with hints of Stereolab, Portishead, BEAK>, Warpaint, Jane Weaver, and the delicious pathos of Weyes Blood. The melancholic track has the warmth of nostalgia with a bit of retrofuturism. This contemplative ballad grapples with internal desires and external expectations. Striving for connection, battling temptation, and recognizing the futility of apologies, there’s a pronounced emphasis on self-compassion and silencing unproductive self-critique.

Through striking metaphors, I’m A Revolver describes a persistent tension between desire and disillusionment. The repeated imagery hints at inescapable patterns and the yearning for clarity amidst self-inflicted turmoil, culminating in a desire for liberation. Es Passt, sung in German, captures the essence of profound connection. There’s a cosmic undertone suggesting Fate’s hand in a bond. Amidst the vastness of the universe, a shared moment stands still, underscoring the depth of their affection. Home serves as an anchor — a refuge from chaos, a place of warmth and familiar comforts…as well as a deep-rooted emotion, embodying love, wisdom, and self-assuredness.

The lyrics to Luck of Numbers depict a deep intimacy, where vulnerability aligns with mutual understanding. Drinking becomes a metaphor for absorbing one’s true essence and escaping life’s distortions. In the overwhelming noise of worries, the duo seeks solace in shared dreams and unspoken feelings…and perhaps blind optimism. With Minor Chords, Major Problems, time’s dilation becomes symbolic of mental anguish, grappling with reality versus illusion. There’s a palpable desire for escape from this disorienting state and a plea for help to navigate overwhelming emotions.

“Time To The Brim” drags us, somewhat willingly, through the murky waters of identity and memories, questioning our very essence. There’s a dizzy dance between the vast expanse of time and a disheartening gloom, all while chasing some fleeting sense of worth. The accompanying cinematic piece, a brainchild of Sleepy Mountain Films (Paris and Jacob), toys with time in a whimsical fashion, depicting Seja in an endeavour to sew a tiny felt Minimoog…which happens to be her charming side hustle!

Watch the video for “Time to the Brim” below:

Seja’s approach to this album leans heavily on the tangible allure of hardware, minimizing the digital touch of software. In embracing both steadfast and quirky equipment, she aspired to capture the elegance of the imperfect. Within her home studio’s sanctuary, Seja wore many hats — that of a vocalist, a synthesizer aficionado, and a dexterous handler of instruments ranging from guitars and bass to the nuanced sounds of the Omnichord and Rhodes piano. Her adept use of drum machines, programming, and sequencing further underscores her multifaceted artistry.

Here is One I Know You Know is out now via It Records.

Order Here

The album Here is One I Know You Know welcomes a few close friends into the fold playing real acoustic instruments, including Jen Boyce (Ball Park Music) on bass, Stella Mozgawa (Warpaint) on percussion, Fred Armisen (SNL, Portlandia) on octobans, Georgia Mooney (All Our Exes Live in Texas) on backing vocals, George Browning (Velociraptor) on drums and percussion, Nicole Perry on congas, Chris Farrer (the Quickening) on guitar solos, Conrad Greenleaf (Richard in Your Mind) on bass and Danny Widdicombe (the Wilson Pickers) on pedal steel. Hotmagnets was production assistant and noise merchant.

Here’s a video of their sound memories making the album:

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The post Listen to Australian Synth Songstress Seja’s “Here is One I Know You Know” — Plus Watch Video for “Time to the Brim” appeared first on Post-Punk.com.

Elusive Australian synth-pop trio 100% announce the release of their debut album, Clear Visions, a collection of ominous ice-cold synths and throbbing beats emerging from a sci-fi landscape. The album delves into the universal story of love lost and the renewal of time, drawing broad influence from 80’s pop, 90’s House, Italo Disco, Darkwave, and EBM. We hear elements of Cindy, Zanias, SRSQ, Boy Harsher, Molly Nilsson, Desire, Drab Majesty, Sally Dige, and RIKI, as well as older acts like Bananarama and Berlin.

The album pulses its introduction perfectly with the sombre yet buoyant “Belonging.” This is followed by the languid synthwave romance of “Second Chances.”

Next up is the shimmering dance-driven seduction of ‘Tempting Fate.” “No Cure For Love” drives up the dial on all romance; lust-ridden, dwindling, platonic, full-blown, and nostalgic, while “Prisoner” offers questions about power, belonging, and safety, charged with glistening synth and amped-up beats. 

The single “Abandon,” a robotic synth jam straddling the ethereal realm and mortality, is anchored by disembodied vocals sounding as if they are warnings from another dimension. It is a very human juxtaposition to the hypnotic electronic beats.

Watch the video for the single Abandon below:

“Good Company” is a bombastic old-school cinematic synth anthem that swells as it progresses that gives way to “New All,” a song that speeds up the BPM and feels like a storm washing away the past. The LP closes strong with the buzzing synth mesmerization of the title track, “Clear Visions.” before going into a Nuxx redux of the single “No Cure for Love.”

Listen to the album Clear Visions below:

100% have been doing luxe on their terms from their beginnings in 2014. Chloe Blackwood (Cannon), Grace Stevenson (Rebel Yell) and Lena Molnar (Bloodletter) comprise 100%, collectively exploring ideas of experience and reflection. Previously, the world that 100% dreamt of seemed far away – one of science fiction fantasy; futuristic yet familiar. A strange comfort co-exists with cynicism and disappointment in this album, making the uncertainty of our future at least danceable. With a remix from NYC-based Nuxx Vomica, the vantage that 100% have is that the future is here, and they’ll take you to the party.

Clear Visions is out now.

Order Here

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