Sumac
What One Becomes

I have always trusted my instincts when I need to listen to and then review a new record; a limited number of spins on my stereo system and I can consider myself ready, having acquired everything necessary to understand the music created by the individual performer or the band in question. But this time it wasn't like that; and once again the fault lies with Aaron Turner and the Post-Metal-Doom-Sludge-Ambient band Sumac he created after the end of Isis's career. The same thing happened about ten years ago with Greymachine and their only album released: that Disconnected which saw Aaron joined by Justin Broadrick of Godflesh. A work that literally tormented me for years due to its heaviness, its unlistenability. I can certainly affirm that the same happened with What One Becomes, the second release in chronological order by Sumac. For weeks I listened to it at home and in the car, feeling dazed by its overwhelming power capable of breaking your back; even though I knew very well what I was in for, given my perfect knowledge of the characters involved in this claustrophobic project. An hour of music for just five tracks; that alone might suffice to quantify the album's specific weight; partially recorded in an unholy church with production entrusted to Kurt Ballou of Converge. It seems like dealing with a DNA mutation taken from Neurosis, Isis, and all that Post-Metal so much in vogue in the early years of the new millennium. A sound created by Sumac that is ruthless, tentacular, gigantic; screeching guitar riffs that never end, maintaining tremendously high tension while listening. Then suddenly they let go and enter realms of ambient calmness with sunny breaths; a continuous alternation of opposing sensations. Black and white; war and peace. A blot of black tar graces the cover; they don't even provide the track titles that you have to search for inside the booklet; it's also difficult to follow the lyrics due to the barbaric sound of Aaron's voice, bordering on almost incomprehensible growl. Sounds of abysmal depth that force you to look over your shoulder; they are terrifying, they create panic. And that's what they want. A complex and enormously difficult listening experience as witnessed in the concluding "Will To Reach," which at nine minutes and forty-eight seconds is the shortest track of the bunch. In the initial moments, they touch upon territories already explored in the early Isis days; a muddy, infernal Post-Sludge that drags on until the change of direction. The track seems to end because for a few seconds nothing is heard; but they are still alive and it's the sound of a distant guitar that triggers the last part where they change course once more. And this time it's the final Apocalypse as they even reach Grindcore-Noise shores, bordering on total madness. Never heard anything like it, believe me...BLACKOUT...

Ad Maiora.