Review: Harvestman ‘Triptych: Part Two’
July’s Buck Moon saw the release of the second part of Harvestman’s ambitious Triptych (a work of art divided into three sections), spread over three of this year’s full moons with Part One coinciding with April’s Pink Moon and will conclude on October’s Hunter Moon.
Once again, Steve Von Till looks to tap into the multi-dimensional alchemy he created with the ambient drone psych of the first instalment to continue this journey of sonic deconstruction and meditation.
Without wishing to repeat too much of the introduction to my Part One review, this second act in the release, like the first and third, has been gestating for over two decades in the mind of the Neurosis frontman. Recorded at his home studio with long-time friend and collaborator OM/Sleep bassist Al Cisneros guesting, the continued intent is to create a hallucinatory journey to explore the liminal space between the fundamental and the imaginary, channelling the ancestral resonance inspired by the megaliths, ancient ruins and sites of British and European geographical and psychic landscapes.
This attempt to harness and connect to the mystic past is evident in the stunning glyph-style artwork from Henry Hablak that graces the cover of both releases so far and draws inspiration from ancient stone circles, celestial events and constellations. And in Triptych, Harvestman looks to create something unique, something sacred that requires you to step out of any conceived notion of music or expectation of song structure in the traditional sense and surrender yourself to the subconscious stirrings that it evokes.
Immediately Part Two calls back to the preceding release, opener The Hag Of Beara Vs The Poet seamlessly flows from the first parts concluding Mare And Foal meaning when the trilogy is complete, the three parts will no doubt span a continuous one hundred and twenty minutes (an approximate guess given the average of Parts One and Two) of immersive and self-referencing psychedelic reverie, (unless, like me, you will have to get up and flip the vinyl…).
Much like Part One opener Psilosynth, this first step on the journey is dub-heavy, repeating the structure in a cyclical nature that binds the albums. The tantric woozy wob, wob, wob of the rhythm and beat sounds like the rusted, torn open stock tank Dave French (Yob) used on the last phase. The synth sounds combine with the tribal-sounding beat, creating a primal yet futuristic feel and the subtle, bobbling sounds of Cisernos’ bass in what the press material has likened to a languid groove expanding into a cinematic wash ‘like an endless drip of oil spreading out under a midsummer haze’.
In the second half the garbled spoken word chants, buried low in the mix are shamanistic and unsettling against the violent buzzing as the album attempts to bridge the gap between continuing the spiritual connection of the first, but driving further and farther into gothic-laced folk themes that have been prevalent in Harvestman since their 2005 debut.
The Falconer (the title and order again referencing Part One’s Give Your Heart To The Hawk) flows on wakes and eddies of rising sounds, electronic shades keeping pace rather than a beat. The notes are ponderous and meandering, as light as a breath or gentle breeze and feels as dense as hearing a whale song underwater. There are times when it feels like nothing is happening, but closing off all other distractions and just being with the music reveals a host of mesmerising textures and layers that glide subtly under the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
synth sounds combine with the tribal-sounding beat, creating a primal yet futuristic feel…
The moodier notes of Damascus lead into another more up-tempo track with maracas and plodding deep bass that underpins a winding, almost eastern-flavoured melody. This hypnotic build and ritual dance-like groove feel fit for a ceremony in a stone circle and is simultaneously regal, primitive and stirring, making it one of the tracks that could be played in isolation from the meditative flow of the album.
In keeping with the established sequencing, track four sees a reprise of The Hag Of Beara Vs The Poet, reimaged as Forest Dub where the marching rhythm is disrupted and skittering drum and bass are added. The warbling vocals are introduced almost immediately against the fuzzy, clanging backdrop, noises come and go bouncing off the discombobulating loops as the distortion hits front and centre to create a delirious haze.
Vapour Phase scratches at your brain with a nagging whining high note and feels akin to The Falconer in its refusal to simply give you an easy experience by using a vocoder to create unsettling levels of frequency, like a signal echoing from an unseen point that in the world of Triptych could be the past or outer space.
The powerful Galvanized And Torn Open and album closer The Unjust Incarceration are tracks that bear the most resemblance to Von Till’s solo work. Both channel Americana folk with the former built around tentative guitar lines and an incidental beat before the vibrations of the droning synth almost seem settled and at peace in the midst of what has gone before. The delicate strings and stick work stretches back to the past, even as the twangs and thumps get absorbed by the pulsing, sci-fi electronics.
The latter features a return of the Northumbrian samllpipes, again echoing the sequencing of Part One’s sign-off, edged in distortion and lacking a certain smoothness before the abrupt finish.
This cycle symbolically represents the next phase of the journey, and the Buck Moon reflects the manifestation of change that is associated with fertility and abundance. This desire to harness individual strength is displayed in a subtly harsher tone than Part One and carries the light dexterity and heavyweight emotional drag that you would expect of the man, but still compliments the ongoing journey perfectly. Roll on the October luna cycle.
Label: Neurot Recordings
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Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden
