Orthrelm
Asristir Vieldriox

There is no limit to human madness. 

During the New Millennium, many bands have burst onto the music scene, trying to stand out in any way possible, hoping to leave an indelible mark on this diverse universe. And peculiarities and extremisms have certainly not been lacking: undoubtedly, one of the best examples is given by Orthrelm, an unpronounceable American duo formed by Mick Barr (electric guitar, acoustic guitar) and Josh Blair (drums, percussion).

The two Americans are best known for their third album, "OV," released in 2005 under the Ipecac label (Mike Patton docet...): a single, terrifying, majestic, absurd composition of forty-five minutes and forty-three seconds, a jumble of experimental rock, noise, thrash metal, and progressive under pounding and incessant mid-tempos, created without any pause, like in a hallucinogenic and rattling trip. Needless to say, albums like this are either loved or hated, and it is equally futile to state that, in front of similar works, the inevitable question arises: "Are they serious, or just acting?".

To find a plausible and satisfactory answer, we need to turn back the clock three years. We are in 2002: after some live performances aimed at a niche audience, Orthrelm debuted in the recording world with this "Asristir Vieldriox" (the passion for unpronounceable names never fades…). However, one must be careful not to be deceived: although the cover is fascinating in its minimalistic simplicity (a white halo, representing an undefined shape, on a black background), the album is not. This album is anything but simple: it is the epitome of complexity, the embodiment of compositional eccentricity, the manifestation of schizophrenic technique, of courage - tinged with a nearly artistic carelessness - to embark on new sonic paths, embracing a new form/song aesthetic, apathetic, overturned, suffering… amorphous.

So what, essentially, is this "Asristir Vieldriox"? It is a work that presents numerous analogies with "OV": both have the merit of being original, both exceed every archetype of traditional albums, both are a single journey, without gaps or reflective voids. Ultimately, "Asristir Vieldriox" is a single, large, highly technical, complex solo, of over twelve minutes. That's right: no strange lyrics, no bizarre sounds. Just the instruments, and what instruments: Barr really knows how to handle the guitar, and it shows; Blair learned to play the drums well because, stroke by stroke, a meticulous precision and impeccable sound clarity are evident.

But… like in the best episodes, even in this case, there's a but.

Though it is true that this CD consists of a single solo, it is equally evident that this solo is not, how to say… continuous. The technical mind of Orthrelm breaks it down, disrupts it, fragments it, grinds it, distorts it, with the usual frenzy, into many, tiny loops. To be precise, ninety-nine very short samples. Ninety-nine points of view from which to admire Barr's nervous and explosive six-string technique. Ninety-nine loops, in which ninety-nine small worlds are created, each different from the other, with the same chords, like in a big card game, where many different combinations are crafted. Ninety-nine samples full of inventiveness, brimming with dynamism. Ninety-nine ways to say sharp G, D, C, high E: ninety-nine ways to unleash a double bass drum. Ninety-nine fragments, without a title. All in twelve minutes (the longest division is set at twenty-seven seconds, and it's number 99). In simple words, these two know nothing of moderation. Listened to separately from one another, these shards seem to be self-contained, incompatible with the edgy atmospheres that follow one another in a magnetic spiral. Taken as a whole, however, this proves to be a reasonable and, more importantly, incredibly inspired work. Because, in just a few seconds, the two manage to move, with sometimes irritating nonchalance, from a progressive rock tinged with whimsical psychedelia to semi-noise catatonic attacks, only to then steer towards more challenging and experimental territories, or surprise everyone with crescendos with a hard rock imprint. Without losing the usual composure that distinguishes them.

And yet, in this case, it is the framework that is the true password to unlock the gears of "Asristir Vieldriox." Because, scratching beneath the finely chiseled surface, one discovers a semi-hidden vein of explosive and dynamic swing, a sort of lubrication that flows, piece by piece, through the work's threads. It is absolutely undeniable that Orthrelm must thank Naked City for this contribution: the continuous breaks that, like a burst, cynically ferociously perforate the auditory carpet, are heavily influenced by the creative genius of John Zorn (notably… also a protégé of Mike Patton), perhaps the first true pioneer, capable of disturbing the masses, through a sound upheaval, starting precisely from the total annihilation of the song archetype.

In conclusion: are they serious or just acting? They are serious. That's how they are: no constraints from labels or shady figures. "Asristir Vieldriox" is a genuine, sincere work and, why not, beautiful: it should be taken in small doses, to avoid an irreversible anaphylactic shock, such that it would make one reject any album that deviates from the normal conception of "track." Just, they shouldn't be portrayed as the saviors of the nation: certainly, the guys can play (although less exhibitionism would be beneficial), and they are inventive, but there are those who have done these things long before them, overshadowing them in class and experience. In any case, an explosive debut, and certainly not an isolated episode.