Nathan Michaels' music could be nothing short of massive. Aphotic Leech is no happy experience, but it is a commanding piece of music with no shortage of powerful moments.
The delicate piano performances transform into ominous war drums with time, the guitar sounds like the sick wheezing of some mutated monster rotting away in a subterranean prison, and whatever other manipulated instruments Nathan Michaels employs are dim, wrecked shadows of their former glory.
"Aphotic" is an adjective meaning "having no light." It can also describe any part of the ocean where light from the sun cannot reach. It's useful to think about the types of creatures that live in that part of the ocean for the purposes of imagining what portions of this record sound like. Though it begins with the seemingly innocent striking of rather unaltered piano melodies, the album quickly dissolves into a murky wash of thickly distorted guitar and other resonant, full sounds. The image of a leviathan swallowing up the ocean floor isn't an inappropriate one as the music seems to rumble by; the music doesn't simply emerge from the speakers and pass into the air, it exerts a physical presence on my ears and presses the warmth right out of the room.
Amid all the darkness, however, are some finer, brighter moments where Michaels' talent for powerful arrangements really stands out. The beginning of the record is fantastic, the music emerging from a hail of static and sizzling electronics. It sounds as if the album will be meditatively dismal for some time, the fuzz sounding like nothing more than a minor detail. A xylophone or some kind of hammered instrument makes a brief appearance, bringing to mind the work of Bohren und der Club of Gore. The careful introduction of added noise and the piano's slow decay flesh the album out perfectly, juxtaposing two extremes tastefully while holding two rather disparate elements of the album together. Michaels' moves quickly: in the first six minutes of the piece he has already developed a natural crescendo and plunged the album into a quiet, brooding place. By the time the guitar erupts, it feels natural, an explosion resulting from a natural increase in pressure.
That sense of a natural progression, which permeates the entire album, emphasizes just how subtle and powerful Michaels' is as a composer. By staying within the parameters of a few effective and complimentary instruments, he manages to craft an entire world of sound with viscerally effective moments. Half Makeshift is a name I'll be looking out for in the future and, with any luck, James Plotkin will be on board again to handle the mastering job: the clarity and immediacy of the sounds on Aphotic Leech stand out in my mind. Despite many of them being heavily processed, they sound full and vibrant on the record, adding an extra punch to an already impressive record.
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