The plus point about instrumental bands is that they have to be vivid in order to create images in our mind in the absence of lyrical explanation. It wasn’t entirely helpful therefore to read that during the creation of this album, the band was “flooded by political messages and grievances”. I suppose the intrigue is to know how they transmit these messages and grievances. It would be strange if the band weren’t flooded with something, or there’d be no inspiration at all.
My impression was not of grievances in fact. The drum is hard-hitting. The instrumental progress is colourful, and conveys to me at any rate open skies rather than anger or restrictions. The soundscape is initially fluid before transforming into a sad and mystical world. “Evac” has the post-rock feel of the band Isis. It’s dynamic but has a tinge of human compassion about it. “Besa”, which follows, is more upbeat and vibrant. Soonago are evidently not frightened of melody. The feel is of a journey. Clouds pass by and are represented in the fresh guitar work. The mood changes, becoming quiet and orchestrally reflective, and so with that an air of melancholy emerges. Soonago take time over this, which I liked, as we are allowed to bathe in the melancholy rather than being rushed off to the next destination. A post rock ring combines with the sad strains of the violin to create a lush scene. The sad vibe continues, expanding in “Apophenia” but with a darkened edge. This one is a slow burn, but it does explode into life just over 6 minutes in, while maintaining its power and suggestiveness before ending in a dreamily cosmic fashion. The fourth and final piece is the title track. Again it suggests a journey and open skies, but it’s a world with mystery and uncertainty round each corner. There is a sampled section with a dialogue between a little girl and an adult about freedom. I felt this was overdone, but appreciated the musical drama and the inherent message, which hitherto hadn’t been entirely apparent to me. Now we have anger and grievance. “This is the story of the world we live in, and the world we want to live in” – that’s the final line, but if this was all about the world we live in, then it needed the spoken word at the end to tell me, which kind of defeated the object of letting me the listener work out what it was about.
This, and indeed any instrumental album, is better without any stated context. Leaving aside the didactic final piece, I let my senses do the work. I didn’t find “Fathom” to be something that made me burst with excitement or wonderment, but what I experienced was a thoughtfully constructed album.
(6/10 Andrew Doherty)
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