Horseback
The Invisible Mountain
Relapse Records
Equal parts krautrock,
stoner metal,
and art-house freak
show, this sprawling,
38-minute,
four-track epic challenges
and delights
as it vacillates
between tortured, ethereal atmospherics
and throbbing, druggy drones. The
former are driven by Mellotron-like keyboards
and Jenks Miller’s delicate acoustics
and crystalline, echo-drenched electrics
treated with trance-inducing tremolo
(“Hatecloud Dissolving into Nothing”),
while the latter are powered by Miller’s
menacingly overdriven SGs and Les Pauls
(played through old Vox and Fender amps),
fuzzed-out basses, and throbbing drums
(“Tyrant Symmetry”). Instrumentally, it’s
like Sabbath, Sleep, Soundgarden, and
the lighter elements of Scandinavian metal
taken with a cocktail of Ambien and Dr.
Leery’s favorite hallucinogenic. Guttural,
lo-fi, and incomprehensible, the vocals
sound like the lamentations of an insane,
bitter sociopath complaining from the confines
of his padded cell in hell. Thankfully,
the mad musings are accompanied by
enrapturing layers of melodic melancholy
that hint at the damned soul’s once-beautiful
potential. Just barely too palatable
to be the soundtrack to E. Elias Merhige’s
Begotten.
The Invisible Mountain
Relapse Records
Equal parts krautrock,
stoner metal,
and art-house freak
show, this sprawling,
38-minute,
four-track epic challenges
and delights
as it vacillates
between tortured, ethereal atmospherics
and throbbing, druggy drones. The
former are driven by Mellotron-like keyboards
and Jenks Miller’s delicate acoustics
and crystalline, echo-drenched electrics
treated with trance-inducing tremolo
(“Hatecloud Dissolving into Nothing”),
while the latter are powered by Miller’s
menacingly overdriven SGs and Les Pauls
(played through old Vox and Fender amps),
fuzzed-out basses, and throbbing drums
(“Tyrant Symmetry”). Instrumentally, it’s
like Sabbath, Sleep, Soundgarden, and
the lighter elements of Scandinavian metal
taken with a cocktail of Ambien and Dr.
Leery’s favorite hallucinogenic. Guttural,
lo-fi, and incomprehensible, the vocals
sound like the lamentations of an insane,
bitter sociopath complaining from the confines
of his padded cell in hell. Thankfully,
the mad musings are accompanied by
enrapturing layers of melodic melancholy
that hint at the damned soul’s once-beautiful
potential. Just barely too palatable
to be the soundtrack to E. Elias Merhige’s
Begotten.
