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reviewed by Bill Binkelman Nathan Larson, here recording under the pseudonym Samsa, has fashioned a predominantly eerie and sometimes disturbing dark ambient album, yet one that is also be strangely compelling at times. There is little detail to be found in the liner notes about what the sound sources are that he molded into these inky black and liquid grey clouds of tones, drones, textures and washes, so I won't even hazard a guess. While there are thirteen tracks listed, and they are certainly different from each other, they do blend into one another so the CD could be appreciated as a quasi-long form ambient work. It might be helpful to understand the "concept" of the recording. As the liner notes state: "The Laurentian Divide is a part of a vast, flat and rocky platform of land that extends from west-central Minnesota through central Canada. It was the first part of the North American continent to be elevated above sea level. Water flows in both directions from this ancient place..." These descriptive words give the astute listener a clue as to what Larson is sonically portraying on a track like "Glow, Sparkle, Dust" with its burbling watery effects, muted wavery tones, and general sense of undulations, some of it emphasized with warmish synth drones. On the other hand, "Perfectly Flawed" presents a dramatic 90-degree turn away from oppressive darker soundscapes and travels in soft shimmering reverberating bell tones and the sound of waves lapping or a brook babbling, although background computer-ish noises "flaw" the peaceful nature of the song, especially toward the end when things start to unravel purposefully. "Leaving Trees" eschews fear and foreboding for a brooding sense of mystery as its nine minutes slowly unwraps a shadowy drone, like a long fall into a deep hole that sometimes lightens and sometimes darkens, alternately bathing the victim in a glow and then robbing the same victim of all sight. "Edge of Forever" starts soft and slow and begins adding layers of drones and noises, especially creepy background rumbles, while "From the Mountain" elicits comparisons to Jeff Greinke darker rhythmic work, with ping-pongy percussive effects bouncing arrhythmically against scratching noises and reverberating bell-like notes. You can well imagine that a song entitled "Ghostly Devices" won't be all sunshine and daisies as disturbing rushes of sound are balanced by rumbles and burbles. However, "One of the Above" has a strangely ethereal or spacy feel to it, as what I hear to be muted synth chorales and synth drones coalesce and break apart in formless patterns throughout the track's eight minute duration. "Make Me Know" is an, at times, barely there soundscape of darker-tinted minimalism - not substantive enough to be scary but not harmless, either. As the track evolves, layers of buzzing effects and synth chorales are added which "beef up" the previous minimalist textures nicely. The CD closes with the "Skies Over St. Peter" one of the spookier tracks here, what with sampled church choirs, distorted yet recognizable and echoed, floating over whooshing and crashing textures. The Laurentian Divide is one of those recordings that I admired and was even fascinated with from an intellectual standpoint, even if I didn't "like" it. I'll admit I don't always "get" dark ambient music, in that my emotional response is frequently of the "ehh, so what?" variety. However, some of the music on this recording made for great "sonic wallpaper" when I was in a somber and introspective mood; but at over seventy-one minutes long, it's tough sledding for one hundred percent dedicated listening for yours truly. I can recommend the CD to those who don't mind long stretches of non-melodic elements comprised of textural soundsculpting. While I might refer to this as scary and dark at times, it lacks the bone-chilling attitude of, for example, Rich's and Lustmord's Stalker. Still, I wouldn't voluntarily listen to this in a dark room on headphones either. |
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