God is an Astronaut - Embers (2024)

Country: Ireland
Style: Post-Rock
Rating: 7/10
Release Date: 6 Sep 2024
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This is the third God is an Astronaut album I've reviewed over the past four years and I don't have much of an idea of what they're supposed to sound like. Maybe that's the point. They've said that each album is who they are at any particular point in time and that seems fair. Ghost Tapes #10 is an angry and pessimistic album, textured but grey, as if the band had no idea what was what after COVID-19. A year later, Somnia took a very different attitude, reimagining older material in calm manner, driven by keyboards rather than guitars. This one does both but more besides.

Apparition starts out softly and trawls in Indian sounds, as if it's going to be krautrock with sitars, but ends up in sections far heavier than I expected. They never quite reach doom metal but they're a lot closer than I ever expected an Irish post-rock band to get, especially after Somnia. There are other heavy sections on this album, most obviously the title track, which has a couple of sections with frantic drumming that are reminiscent of black metal underneath floating melodies. It's an avid stalker at points.

However, there's also much that's soft, starting with Falling Leaves. Moments of the sitar sound echo on from the opener, but they're more fleeting. Everything's all less urgent, much more laid back. It's telling us that it has no idea what's going on in the world that might make Apparition so angry, but it's good over here doing its thing. Here, have a beer. Or maybe a gin and tonic. There's a sense of elegance to it, after all. Realms is slow but dense, with layers of sound shifting over each other, somewhat like a Vangelis piece played at half speed on a church organ.

I should add that there's a prominent guest on Realms, prominent enough to warrant a featuring credit, but not on church organ. She's Jo Quail and she's a cellist, but we have to pay attention to realise that on Realms. It's far more overt on Prism, which opens like a horror movie theme, quiet and sinister. This one could easily have been on Coil's Unreleased Themes for Hellraiser. Quail's an excellent addition to the roster for this album, because it shifts primarily between keyboard parts and guitar parts, which works but gets a little familiar. Adding her cello is a whole new texture.

I like Realms a lot, enough to count it as one of my highlights, but it's very different from the rest of them. Hearts of Roots feels warm and welcoming to me, mostly because of Niels Kinsella's bass, which gradually became a real focus for me over repeat listens, but also because of the keyboards, here in piano mode. The title track, at ten minutes easily the longest piece here, contrasts dreamy noodling with an urgent overlay. It seriously grows in stature, its second half glorious and intense.

Then there's Oscillation, featuring another lovely bass line with patient drums under a shrieking guitar that's right out of an industrial complex. Is that an anglegrinder? After a couple of minutes, that fades out and it's even more peaceful than it would have been without that introduction. The bassline only gets better when it gets more complex. This one ought to have got at least a little bit annoying after a few listens, given that anglegrinder sound, but it doesn't and it gets better each time through.

Those are my four highlights, but there are nine pieces of music here and I haven't mentioned two of them. Odyssey comes early and isn't the journey that its name might suggest, but it does play a lot with contrasts. One moment, it's all silky smooth with soothing vocalisations—of course there are no words here—, the next the guitars leap back into the fray with their fists up and ready. The Indian sound returns at points too and it's odd how often that shows up without ever particularly flavouring the album. That leaves Hourglass to close out, which is a pest of a piece, relatively less than what came before until it's kept at us enough to pay attention to what it's actually doing.

And so this is a much more versatile album than its two predecessors, unwilling to commit to only one mood. Sometimes it's angry, sometimes calm, sometimes both at the same time. At its best, it's an immersive treat; at its worst, it's still very listenable. It's easy to get lost in it and that's no bad thing. It's probably my favourite of the three that I've reviewed, but not by so much as to land a higher rating, I think.