I do not know if there would have been a more fitting epitaph for the departing Hydra Head label. As the final full length release, Black Curtain channels both the beautiful and the ugly of the label’s catalog, in a wonderfully engaging deconstruction of metal as a genre and as an art form, something Aaron Turner and colleagues embarked upon with the founding of Hydra Head 17 years ago.
Jodis, the trio of guitarist/vocalist Turner, bassist James Plotkin, and drummer Tim Wyskida, at times bears more than a passing resemblance to Khanate, partially because Plotkin and Wyskida were that project’s rhythm section as well.Both projects revel in a beyond slow crawl, letting any guitar riff or drum beat ring out for what seems like an infinity.However, while the misanthropic Khanate was largely characterized by Alan Dubin's inhuman, demonic snarl, Turner's vocals here are much more calm and restrained.Khanate's slow plod was like malignant thoughts stewing in the mind of a medicated psychopath, while Jodis uses the lugubrious pacing to develop into an introspective, depressive beauty.
The sprawling, tortured guitar of "Broken Ground," the album opener, exemplifies this.It is erratic and fragmented, yet conjures a brilliantly sad sensibility to it.Turner's vocals stay low in the mix, depressed yet melodic, radiating a powerful sense of isolation.The infrequent drums add a dramatic punctuation, without providing any sense of inertia.The guitar slowly builds upon itself, becoming more and more distorted until reaching a glorious crescendo of noise.
None of the six pieces move at anything but a glacial pace, and there is more space than density, but the album is far from monotone."Red Bough" first alternates between only vocals and threadbare guitar notes. It transforms into a slightly faster, bombastic piece with the full rhythm section and quells back to more ambient spaces."Awful Feast" eschews most riffing entirely, leaving only chiming guitar notes and treated, monastic chanted vocals.
The album closer, "Beggar's Hand," is the only time where things begin to get dark, with the downtuned guitars diving more into the low end, becoming a more bleak and visceral experience.It retains the more beautiful elements of what preceded, and Turner continues singing rather than growling, but there is more of a sinister undercurrent.Surprisingly, for such a dramatic sounding piece, it ends the album on a rather understated note.
The slow, depressive pace of Black Curtain simply adds to its mood, but like the best Jesu material, it never comes across as a self-indulgent mope. Instead it is cautiously optimistic and empowered, spotlighting the power and beauty that can arise from sadness.As a swansong piece for a beloved label, it is a perfect one.
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