With a long string of louder work behind him as Wereju, Rodgers continues to investigates a liminal world of dreams, unknowing, displacement, oblivion and ends, and in this sense, there is continuity as his guitar laments and loathes Thirty-Nine Years of Decay.
[Release page] Cathal Rodger’s new set of soundscapes heaves up like a mean orchestra barely containing its wrath. But it does, and that’s its astuteness. With a long string of louder work behind him as Wereju, Rodgers continues to investigates a liminal world of dreams, unknowing, displacement, oblivion and ends, and in this sense, there is continuity as his guitar laments and loathes Thirty-Nine Years of Decay.
His frightening vision is very much of this world viewed from the brink of its various precipices, both geographical and spiritual. The path he chooses or perhaps has been compelled to wander leaves his guitar no resort but to struggle with the burden of decrepitude. And yet as it sheds corporeal states, it seems to want to both erode and damage its surroundings as much as celebrate them. The five pieces range from seven to seventeen minutes and are far too rich in incident to be called drones and their terrain is far too robust, forested and downright recognizable to be otherworldly. ”Part II” begins by mimicking the mournful wail of a harmonica, a lone coyote of a drawl on the empty desert floor under a cold starry night that just gets bigger, brighter and less forgiving. A milestone along the road this record traverses, which is slowly torn apart in gothic splendor as the closing track is swept up in the maelstorm.
As for the packaging, another frankly luscious work of art by label head Andy Robinson. Perhaps the artist/designer should not outshine his artist/musician, but I rather see it as an homage and response from the designer to the music.
Thirty-Nine Years of Decay is available on Striate Cortex. [Release page]
