Six Organs Of Admittance
The Sun Awakens

Sometimes it is nice like this.
Without knowing anything, without expecting anything.

And when the listener starts to spin the CD, opening a sound space around you, entering like an unsuspecting wanderer, into the uncertain light of an acoustic and fragile dawn.
Barely more than nothing; notes carefully measured from the guitar strings, a distant breath barely perceptible, like the echo of a dream that has just dissolved. (“Torn By Wolves”–1’44’’)
But the light overcomes the resistance of darkness and the eyes begin to distinguish the contours more clearly, while you venture into a scene open to a vastness that, in some way, still belongs to the hesitant and suspended realm of dreams.
And you proceed in this acoustic and muffled dimension, when a voice makes its appearance, suggesting the idea of a very simple melody more akin to an intimate confession than to a song.
Meanwhile, the sounds gain substance, starting to overlap in an electric layer, while the ethereal sigh of a female voice keeps everything in balance, in a state that is still almost dreamlike.  (“Bless Your Blood”–5’59’’)
Then, once again on the strings of an acoustic guitar, with sinuous movements enveloped by the electric flow that begins to expand in increasingly saturated circular waves, you enter a ballad tinged with oriental flavors, a little dusty blues mantra. And at the end, as the tide of guitars rises, a temporal rift takes you somewhere into a psychedelic and acidic California. (“Black Wall”-5’31’’)

But as soon as the feedback fades out, you are in the middle of a desert zone.
The intertwining of acoustic chords and electrified western movements evokes the ghost of Morricone, riding a trotting horse in a hospitable desert, amidst small glimmers of wah-wah and the echo of an almost celestial ethereal choir. (“The Desert Is a Circle”–2’.59’’)
When the desert disappears, you find yourself in a more indefinite area: everything starts with a repeated acoustic arpeggio, which again chooses a circular motion suggesting a state of slight hypnosis. But the rumble of percussion becomes more insistent and obsessive while the crashes on the cymbals mark the irruption of a mass of distorted, clattering, and magmatic sound that tangles over itself and then suddenly stops. (“Attar”-2’.55’’)
And once again, delicacy surprises you, just after the small final whirlwind of “Attar”. The delicacy of the crystal-clear clarity of an acoustic guitar's strings; a few sounds released in a now clear and empty space. As if to grant you a moment of peace, a pause before a new, unexpected change of scene. (“Wolves’ Pup”– 1’.52’’)

Because what happens from this moment on will be difficult to recount with precision.
At first, you remember a sound, like the incessant flight of a helicopter in the distance. Or perhaps, immersed in a state of restless torpor,  entering a long, humid, and dark sound tunnel. The uninterrupted flow of that dark frequency. And within that flow echoes and screeches. And the growing sensation of uncertainty, while in the tunnel starts to reverberate a wordless, repeated, constant choir.  And lurching rhythms of percussion. And that flow that accumulates other shards of sounds, of distortions, and hisses. Ever more enveloping, ever more saturated.
And you, motionless, penetrated by the body of the sound, or within its body.
Dazed and fascinated by the apparent immobility of this condition, you almost do not perceive the slow dissolving, among spectral echoes of voices, of the sound matter in which you are immersed, now hypnotized.
Outside of that darkness, in the void to which the fraying of the sound at the end of the journey delivers you, you remain dazzled by the light. And you still feel those dark frequencies vibrating within you. (“River Of Transfiguration”-23’.50’’) 

The Sun Awakens is the very recent album by Six Organs Of Admittance, a project by Ben Chasny (Current 93, Comets On Fire) and follows “School Of The Flower” from 2005, which the DeBaser page describes as  more influenced by a folk soul.
But I discovered these things later, having bought the album blindly, completely unaware of its contents. The impressions I report are therefore those of a first listening: they did not have elements of comparison and may suffer from some naivety.
But I will listen to it again. The alternation and coexistence of acoustic and “parafolk” episodes and electric roughness, up to the catharsis that “implodes” in the long final track, make it a particular album, a bridge thrown between sounds distant in time, with an indefinable identity.
But I am curious to hear the opinion of those who frequent these musical territories more assiduously.

For me, a recommended album.
For you, to limit the risks of reckless trust, the usual abundant shower of samples.
And happy listening.