I’ve been sitting on this one a while. It came out at the end of Feb and it is now the end of March. Life got in the way and something as expansive and emotional as this album was just too much to take in at the time. Sounds overly dramatic and hysterical? Nah give Natur Morte a listen and you will see what I am on about.
I have not come across this trio before. I heard the name when they collaborated with The Body on “Leaving None But Small Birds” but never wrapped my shell likes around their offerings.
As someone who got all gooey over Emma Ruth Rundle’s collab with Thou and Chelsea Wolfe jamming with Converge, Big Brave hits in the same places. Now I have made those comparisons I feel like I need to apologise to Big/Brave as they have been combining the glorious tortured yet beatific vocals of Robin Wattie with crushing riffs and gargantuan drums since 2015. Wattie also supplies those chops alongside those of Mathieu Barnard Ball whilst the bombast is anchored by the pummelled skins of Tasy Hudson.
Natur Morte mixes fragility and harshness throughout its 6 tracks. Like toffee set on a baking sheet it seems impenetrable and able to repel all but one blow shatters each tack into deadly shards of sweetness able to pierce the roof of your mouth like needles. Wattie’s voice is at one like the ragged breath of someone who has just fought for her life and won and then of someone gently whispering into the ear of a lover.
The whole album winds and flows like white water over ragged rocks but I have to make special mention of the second track “The one who bornes a weary load” . Kicking off with the dissonant sound of what must be someone striking pick-ups with an open fist the hypnotic rhythm is then drowned in a simply mahoosive riff and drum combo that made me want to scream at the sky. The song ebbs back and allows a reprise with space to breathe between the crashing drum beats and distorted chords before Wattie’s voice cries “I feel it. It’s coming!” Chills and gooseflesh. The sense of pain and desperation as the song draws to a close is stifling. The guitars and drums close in and hammer like the last brick of immurement. The following track “My hope renders me a fool” feels forlorn and hopeless in its wake acting as a musical buffer to “The fable of subjugation” which opens with a twanging Americana guitar and almost yodelling vocal. There is a definite country melancholy to this track from the tinkle of sleigh bells to the splashes of cymbals that permeate the warm bass and western guitar line before that sweet sadness becomes crushing despair beneath a mound of riffs and feedback.
Natur Morte is like being immersed in syrup, it’s sweetness and viscosity delights as your lungs are filled and your hope snuffed. Drown smiling!
(9/10 Matt Mason)
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