Gnod
The Somnambulist's Tale

First contact: a vinyl with a spot-on cover, in whose surreal representation I see a bizarre psychoanalytic session as the face of the single long track that occupies the entire record. Then the music starts, and layers of distant string instruments come forward, overlaid with equally distant and obsessive percussion, incessant loops of gentle sounds, vague and strange voices, pulsating sounds, all forming a découpage of melodies that make the listener the protagonist of an abstract and dreamlike experience. It's a concept comparable to the musical cradle of Bark Psychosis that condenses into the most intangible kraut-rock, almost emulating the brain activity during the phase of falling asleep, then profoundly evolving with a motif in constant crescendo, with narcoleptic and obsessive tones. It's impossible not to reach at least halfway through the record without feeling numb and torpid.
For almost all fifty minutes, the atmosphere changes continuously, oscillating between vaguely prehistoric, medieval, and oriental characteristics, confirming the work as something undefined, approximated. The music fades constantly, showing itself as persistently elusive. I would describe this work simply as an interminable and therapeutic listen, incredibly expanded both in its time as duration and in its time as extension.

Mickey Hart converted the light waves from a supernova into sound waves, but these English guys have not been outdone in credibly proposing their own cosmic symphony with this record (my theory, nothing confirmed or probably intended by the band). The work is from 2008, and I recommend listening to this instrumental (besides those curious) to anyone who doesn't mind forgetting what year, day, or time they are in for an hour. What may remain is nothing but a hypnagogic illusion.