Sunn O)))
White1

The year was 2003: the great blockheads Greg Anderson & Stephen O'Malley decided to reshape the pachydermic sound of the Sunn O))) entity, which had already become an institution in the extreme domain but was destined, barring providential adjustments, to get stuck in a manneristic quagmire.

Thus, "White1" was released, marking a partial departure from the utterly metal-doom dimension and an attempt to rework the drone-ambient element in a mystical-esoteric key. Hastily packaged, "White1" does not fully convince but knows how to be appreciated in some way.

The dances open with what I consider the pinnacle of Anderson and O'Malley's "artistic" expression: "My Wall" is an incredible 25-minute journey that begins with guitar murmurs and funeral arpeggios. But what astonishes is the presence of Julian Cope's dark narrations: like a demonic entity, the spirit of Sunn O))) seems to have possessed the new Syd Barrett, transforming him into an obsessed priest in a state of ecstatic visions. Throughout the first half of the piece, unsettling arpeggios, sticky drones, and guitar drags accompany Cope's chilling invocation, launched into the autistic reading of the ode "My Wall" he wrote himself.
Words as if read from another dimension, a voice that comes from behind the mist, from under the mud, from Hell itself. Both bewildering and mystical is the effect of this new visionary surge, demonstrating the versatility of Sunn O)))'s sound, which knows how to fit into the most disparate sounds and solutions.
The piece continues with dark repeated guitar blasts without mercy for our endurance spirit. But these are distant, reverberated guitars with a hypnotic and alluring gait, thick strokes of grey on a black backdrop, rivulets of molten lead inundating woods of withered trees: as enveloping for our ears (we are far from the overwhelming chaos of albums like "00 Void" and "Flight of the Behemoth") as they are lethal for our neurons.

Regrettably, it does not continue on the same levels: of the subsequent "The Gates of Ballard" I only save the very sick opening, the hallucinatory Norwegian traditional chant with which the track begins. For the rest, I find the prolonging over a quarter of an hour of a weak stoner riff over the shaky progression of an unconvincing drum machine, programmed, I must say, really haphazardly (truly embarrassing is the timid ti-ti-ti-ti-ti of the double bass that urges the track, resulting in a more ridiculous effect than anything else).
From seasoned veterans like Anderson and O'Malley, naturally, one expects that this is deliciously intentional, and, although the result doesn't thrill me, one must acknowledge the two's incurable iconoclastic spirit (did they intend to satirize a certain type of poser metal that abuses triggered double bass?, or all those unprepared drummers who survive thanks to studio tweaks?).
But above all, one must applaud a truly unique talent in always knowing how to adopt the most irritating and tasteless solutions, managing thus, for better or worse, to always maintain a high level of frustration in listening (which is what a Sunn O))) fan seeks!) and to remain steadfastly on the line of a sonic mockery (but the Sunn O))) fan loves being mocked!).

Rather anonymous, finally, is the closing track "A Shaving of the Horn that Speared You", a "free" 15-minute experiment where incoherent phrases, volume play, untuned arpeggios, and background sighs intersect without delivering major thrills. Anderson and O'Malley seem to set aside their doom nature for once, preferring to set up a limping and desolate dance of subliminal messages, evidently directed more to the unconscious sphere than to the listener's ears (the brain, mind you, was automatically deactivated the moment one decided to press the play button!).
Also, in this case, it is evident the will to distance themselves from the usual overly exploited clichés: the result is a not wholly convincing arrival at shores of an avant-garde of little worth, but not without, all things considered, a certain charm and a certain suggestive power. Charm and unease given by the unhealthy futility of certain choices and the apparent absence of a design regulating the whole.

What can be said in summary? "White1" is undoubtedly one of the most irrational episodes that Sunn O))) has gifted us. The sounds, less mighty and vigorous than in the past, unfortunately diminish the impact of music that is based on the annihilation generated by the wall of guitars (which is then the raison d'être of the band).

Amply surpassed by its successor "White2" (which moves on the same coordinates but with decidedly better results), this work remains the most mysterious and elusive chapter of the Sunn O))) saga: a respected piece in the discography of a non-band band that thrives more on excesses and provocations than on real and boasted artistic content. Those who love them, follow them...