I have seen this album described elsewhere as "virtually a new Monos record" due to the participants, but Tate's latest effort is a bit more modest than that.  Originally recorded as a guitar and synth solo album, Darren handed his work over to the very capable Colin Potter for a thorough "re-imagining."  I can only guess at what No Longer Here sounded like before Potter's involvement (the droniest drone ever?), but the end result is 45 minutes of beautifully immersive and darkly hallucinatory bliss.
By drone standards, this is a pretty unusual release.  That was not immediately apparent to me, as it is mixed rather quietly, but I was quickly mesmerized once I cranked it up loud enough to hear its nuances.  The sole piece is essentially built upon a low quavering bed that remains melodically static (I think) for its entire duration.  Despite the lack of any kind of obvious chord change or melodic evolution, Tate's unrelenting river of drone remains quite vibrant by constantly shifting in texture, density, and coloration.
It happens very slowly, of course, but the transformation from its early hollow throb to the lush yet ghostly thrum of its climax is thoroughly absorbing.  In fact, Tate's sublime, glacially shifting drones could have probably carried the album on their own, but the surreal and subtly nightmarish sounds that unfold over the top of them are what elevate this effort into something more substantial and noteworthy.  I suspect that this is where Potter's influence is most apparent, though Darren has certainly unleashed some unsettling sounds on his own in the past.
As painful as it is for me to belabor a water metaphor, I am afraid that it is too apt to avoid here: Tate's "river of drone" is not a clear, cheerfully burbling one; it is a slow, murky, and deep one and disturbing sounds endlessly billow up from the depths like bodies.  I suspect most of the sounds may have once originated from Tate's guitar, but in Potter's hands they seem unrecognizably strangled, drowned, and stretched.  Equally importantly, they blend so deftly into the underlying rumble as to seem like an organic part of it.  Also, Tate and Potter demonstrate an impressive knack for weaving their moans and swells into slow, hypnotic pulses and for transitioning seamlessly from a mood of cosmic horror to slightly uneasy warmth within the same piece.  There is a very real sense of flow and purpose here.
In general, it is pretty hard to go wrong with anything that either Tate or Potter is involved with, but they work especially well together and this is something of a unique release within their oeuvres.  While it is not exactly a "difficult" album, No Longer Here certainly required some attention and focus on my part to fully reap its rewards (it practically begs for headphones).  The effort was very much worth it, as drone is rarely this deep and satisfying (or aberrant)  This is drone music for connoisseurs.
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