![cover image](/brain/images/gog-mist_from.jpg)
The opening "Night Zoe" begins with long passages of sustained high end feedback, much higher in frequency than other artists of this ilk stick to. The repeated high end feedback becomes slathered in tremolo to a warbling drone that, in a way, resembles the classic (at least to me) "The Red Sea" by Bodychoke, as it continues to meander on and on. Eventually it becomes accompanied by some lower register metallic riffs and while the sound remains constant throughout, the actual dynamics vary greatly.
The long centerpiece title track is a performance for KFJC and involves a drummer and keyboardist, fleshing out the sound even more. The opening loops of a distant, siren like squealing belies the rapid transition into more traditional metal territory. Deep slow riffs, skittering cymbal rolls, and raw feedback dominate the mix early on. However, as the guitar chugs on, a layer of slow, mournful melody rises up, contrasting the angry guitars with a more beautiful synthetic counterpoint. In some respects this balance resembles some of Jesu’s best work, though in a more noise ridden and improvised context rather than Broadrick’s more polished works.
The closing "Gasp in a Fifty Pound Claw" puts the more metal-esque elements in the backseat and instead focuses on the noise. The opening insect drone and high end blasts are matched with a bit of feedback and amplifier hum, which gives more of an ambient introduction to the rawer overdriven electronics and bashes of noise that emerge later on. In the latter moments the noise erodes away and what remains is vaguely reminiscent of a black metal band practicing in a garage down the street: the metal elements are there, but cut up and filtered to give an entirely different character.
"Mist from the Random More," the title track, is definitely the high point of the release as an album. The stark contrast between the harsher and melodic elements are extremely memorable. While the more drone-metal intro and noise outro don't quite stand well on their own, wrapped around the true meat of the record, they earn their keep.
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