I’m not sure calling Blanck Mass‘ new record, In Ferneaux, an “album” is correct. It’s only two tracks (“Phase I” and “Phase II”), which makes it seem like an A-side and B-side single, but each is about twenty minutes long. So, is it an EP? EP’s rarely cover as much ground as In Ferneaux, so that doesn’t seem right either. It’s more of a soundscape than an album, a strange journey instead of a musical experience.
In Ferneaux is a “soundscape journey.” Yeah, I think that works.
The record is a collection of live “in the field” recordings of ambient sounds, bits of conversation, city cacophony, psychedelic musings, and, of course, Blanck Mass / Benjamin Power‘s signature shimmering synths and beats that often surprise you no matter how far away you hear them coming.
“Phase I” alone blends all of these elements in just the first five minutes. It almost sounds like it could be a sci-fi movie theme or the theme to the next World Cup tournament, and then it becomes something like a robotic dream from Philip K. Dick’s mind. It drifts into drone, and at one point seems to have the sounds of a boat bumping against a dock and futuristic bacon made from grub worms sizzling in a skillet. Bird and / or whale song floats into the track, as do the sounds of busy streets, children talking, and possibly distant video game noises.
“Phase II” starts us off in the middle of some kind of dystopian future nightmare thought up by an android with a migraine headache, but then it dissolves into a recording of a conversation Powers had with a street preacher saying things like, “It’s hard to handle the bitch-ass misery…Be ye transformed by the renewal of your mind…” and other gems of knowledge about giving and receiving blessings. The man’s words are brought to the front and then are replaced with bright, ambient synths and white noise to cleanse your mental palate. Those sounds grow into a wild swarm of cybernetic wasps hovering treacherously close. Weird chants / screams and tribal drums emerge, throwing you into either a panic or an intrigued hush. The track, and the album, ends with more sounds of water, and Powers’ lament that a passing truck is ruining his recording.
Again, a record like this is hard to classify, but that’s part of the point. It doesn’t need classification. It simply is. All of us simply are, but most of us fail to realize this liberating truth. In Ferneaux has Powers coming out of the metaphorical fire of 2020 with a deeper appreciation of the simple things around him. We could all use some time in that purifying heat.
Keep your mind open.
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[Thanks to Patrick at Pitch Perfect PR.]
