Soriah (with Ashkelon Sain), "Atlan"

The songs on Atlan have a spore like potency. While listening I get a feeling in the back of my brain that they are somehow reawakening the old and sleeping powers of the earth. It is an album that reaffirms for me that the roots of music are often to be found in the otherworld. With his unique ability to seamlessly bridge the primordial with the contemporary Soriah returns the first instrument known to humankind –the voice- to a place of high honor. As a Tuvan throat singer highly skilled in overtone chanting Soriah shows that the voice is also one of the best instruments for creating sustained drones. When combined with Ashkelon Sain’s adept hand at electronic effects the result is nothing short of stunning.

 

Projekt

On his third full-length release Soriah is joined by the ever prolific Ashkelon Sain, memorable from his many years heading Trance to the Sun. Sain’s fondness for oversaturated hallucinatory soundscapes and drizzly shoegaze guitar is perfectly complimented by Soriah’s multi-timbred throat singing. While certainly not imitators, comparisons to Dead Can Dance would not be inappropriate. Both groups paint their psychoacoustic masterpieces from a similar palette using voice, tribal percussion, keyboards and stringed instruments from around the world. Furthermore Soriah’s ability to hold multiple pitches simultaneously adds new depth and freshness to a musical formula already tried and true. Singing in the ancient Aztec language of Nahuatl his voice is resonant with a beauty that pays homage to his ancestral homeland of Mexico. All of these factors blend together quite naturally and make for a unique listening experience.

The pacing of the 11 songs on this disc is perfect. I feel like a drunken sailor on a boat drifting amongst starry archipelagos when I listen. Lulled into a benevolent somnolence I gently rise and fall with waves of sound that continuously crash and crest. The first song, “Yoallicuicatl,” establishes the general mood with thickly bowed strings buzzing a sonorous melody over the top of an undulating keyboard. It serves to create a sacred listening space by cleansing any obstructive energy left lingering from previous stereo sessions. The second track kicks off with the bells and hand drums that are present throughout the disc in various rhythmic combinations. The meditative percussion forms a backbone of sonic entrainment that Soriah weaves his vocal sorcery around. Deeply emotive, his voice lets out long wavering cries and deep bellows that are both transcendent and ominous. I would be curious to know what his lyrics translate into, but without that knowledge I am free to listen more closely to the subtleties within his often multi-tracked voice.

“Morguul” is exemplary of the albums overall ekstasis. The percussion reminds me of a hard spring rain pattering on a rooftop, while Soriah’s voice rings and vibrates in long ululating drones. The violin adds bright touches of gaiety and fills me with optimism. “Borbak” however is darker, earthy and chthonic. A high pitched insect like whistle whirrs and murmurs in the background, slightly rising and falling, mimicking within the microstructure of the song what the album does a whole. The closing “Amo Cahuit” is similarly foreboding. With crunchy strains of distorted guitar echoing as if out of a cave, a sibilant hiss that howls like the wind, and a menacing swell of deep bass amidst the softly tinkling bells it easily raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Soriah and Sain show high caliber and precision in their artistry and Atlan, full of grace and nuance, will be a keynote in my ever evolving musical rotation for quite some time.

samples:

• Xopancuicatl
• Morguul
• Amo Cahuit