Current 93
I Am The Last Of All The Field That Fell: A Channel

ONTO PICKNICKMAGICK

Despite the masterpiece (the umpteenth in a long series) "Black Ships Ate The Sky" (2006) and the excellent "Aleph At Hallucinatory Mountain" (2009) had marked the impetuous return to the scene of the legendary Current at the end of the '00s, the start of the new decade has not been very prolific (in terms of content, mind you) for the tireless David Tibet, increasingly taken by a productive frenzy and less attentive to letting his apparently inexhaustible inspiration breathe properly.
If the sparse but nevertheless inspired and suggestive "Baalstorm, Sing Omega" (2010) revealed just a few cracks despite the indestructible hallucinatory imagery of our apocalypse prophet, the successive releases, although not being outright disasters, have provided more perplexity than confirmation: in order, the unnecessary ambient appendix of "Haunted Waves, Moving Graves" (2010), the flat and disappointing "Honeysuckle Aeons" (2011), the live album for only fans "And When Rome Falls" (2012) and finally even the single "I Arose As Aleph, The Speller, The Killer" (2013), accompanied by a book with the horrid illustrations made by Tibet himself.
More than a genius adrift, David Tibet gave the impression of needing a new caravan of artists to help channel his visions: in this sense, a modest work like "Honeysuckle Aeons" was very much affected by the absence of Michael Cashmore, or better yet of his faithful and eternal playmate Stapleton. That's why, once the details of the new album to be released this year were announced and reading its enhanced line-up, expectations rightly skyrocketed: Bobbie Watson from Comus, Jack Barnett from These New Puritans, his majesty John Zorn, Blackshaw and Antony again, even Nick Cave. In short, not just any fools.
"I Am The Last Of All The Field That Fell: A Channel", inaugurated on February 8 at the concert at London's Union Chapel, with its hefty duration of 68 minutes and the usual crappy cover (fortunately the only thing akin to "Honeysuckle Aeons") establishes itself as a new cornerstone in the discography of Current 93, reaching at least the levels of the monumental "Black Ships Ate The Sky" and in my opinion surpassing even the explosive "Aleph At Hallucinatory Mountain". But such (very personal) comparisons should not mislead: with an inevitable look to the past, "I Am The Last..." gives us back an artist still capable of evading labels and renewing after three decades of an honorable career, drawing first and foremost from himself, sounding wonderfully self-referential and at the same time always pointing straight, towards unknown other musical/conceptual shores.
Apocalyptic as tradition demands, but much less folk than usual, the Current largely reapproaches the soft piano intimacy of immense masterpieces like "Soft Black Stars" and the EP "Hypnagogue", while at the same time reclaiming the psych-rock insights that made the now twenty-year-old "Lucifer Over London" and the younger "Aleph At Hallucinatory Mountain" famous; and it's no coincidence that in the bandwagon of musicians emerges the old relic Tony McPhee, guitarist of the prehistoric Groundhogs (already paid tribute to, moreover, in the aforementioned "Lucifer Over London"), to whom we owe that somewhat retro air hovering over the tracks like a ghost from the past. Undeniable then is the novelty brought by Zorn's sax, sometimes frantic and sometimes sinuous, not as intrusive as one might spontaneously believe, and which together with Jon Seagroatt's clarinet and flute helps to make the music even deeper, disorienting, and enveloping than it already is by itself.
The current Current 93 are introduced by the gloomy march of "The Invisible Church": drums, piano (Baby Dee is now replaced by the eccentric Reinier Van Houdt) and Watson's sighs accompany a spectral Tibet, while the clarinet and acoustic guitar intricately lace the structure of a track in itself rather minimal, echoing the compositional stasis of the previous album, as well as the introspection of the much greater "Soft Black Stars". The first impact may perhaps be disorienting, but any doubts are quickly dispelled by the following, splendid "Those Flowers Grew": Tibet lays his usual raving deliriums (finally!!) on an unusual and intense crescendo, while Zorn's bipolar sax, the omnipresent piano, and McPhee's amused electric strumming only amplify the experience. The chemistry between the musicians is palpable and David is clearly in his element leading this new strange caravan - and it's easy to see why!
On one hand, we can define Blackshaw and Liles' contributions as rather marginal (engaged respectively on bass and refining the tracks), on the other hand, fans will surely relish the return of great names like Antony Hegarthy and Nick Cave: the former delivers a simply shiver-inducing performance in the emotionally loaded "Mourned Winter Then", outshining his mere choral appearances in "Black Ships Ate The Sky"; and once again, Cave has the task of closing an album in style as the cherry on the cake, taking us back for a moment to the crystalline purity of "All The Pretty Little Horses" and the final revelation of "Patripassian", here scaled down into a simply laid out bed of black and white keys ("I Could Not Shift The Shadows").
These are other moments of pure magic: no wonder they are the most familiar episodes to the deep melancholy of "Soft Black Stars" (and excuse me for naming it every three lines, but it's one of the albums of my life), which is also true for the equally moving "With The Dromedaries", another scrap of inner apocalypse in which Tibet is once more the absolute protagonist with his agitated and sobbing tone, his enlightening words, his endless poetry, as it sounded more than twenty years ago in that timeless Work known as "Thunder Perfect Mind".
How can I not mention then the absolute peak of the album, "And Onto PickNickMagick"? The perfect synthesis of today's Current 93, another crescendo from a threatening and slightly dissonant beginning, destined to collapse into a finale of ghostly screams and maddened psychedelia. Not to mention the carefree, lovely ballad of "I Remember The Berlin Boys", or the strokes with a vague southern flavor of "The Heart Full Of Eyes", or the desolate laments of "Why Did The Fox Bark?"
Perhaps not all moments are equally successful, perhaps in some tracks the ideas seem to spin around a bit aimlessly as in the unsteady piano race of "Spring Sand Dreamt Larks" (still uplifted by Zorn's mad intervention), or in the blurry "Kings And Things"; but by and large the Current of "I Am The Last..." wins on all fronts, even without revolutionizing or changing too many cards on the table - if anything, reshuffling them with care. There's no doubt, therefore: far from being lost along the way, the legendary David Tibet has demonstrated once again to be ten steps ahead of the work of his compatriots (Pearce, Wakeford, Stapleton...); but above all, he has demonstrated to be always and forever the First among all, above all, beyond all, ForEverAndEverAmen. (4.5)