2024-03-13 19:15:42
Two and a half years following the 2021 debut album Memory Spear drives the Australian quasi-solo project Cave Sermon with Divine Laughter with even more emphatic vehemence into the associative axis Ulcerate, Downfall of Gaia, Aeviterne and Sumac.
This is also ensured by the decision of mastermind Charlie Park, who remains solely responsible for almost all aspects of Cave Sermon, to take his project out of the purely instrumental realm and to team up with the Colombian Pablo Miguel Méndez (from Mico) to hire a singer who would give the progressive sludge death on the verge of post metal more character and profile. It is certainly remarkable how much more grippy and intense the songwriting of the man from Melbourne now appears thanks to the additional layer, while the sound is more thoughtful and complete in its powerful atmosphere.
Anyway Beyond Recognition almost immediately appears at growling speed, tacking in slight dissonance Divine Laughter Its charm comes primarily from the homogeneous dynamics that arise in the contrast of a bestial train with a massive, viscous heaviness and spherical perspective. After around two and a half (almost ten) minutes of playing time, the opener shifts back the roar of the hectic initial phase and plunges into an ambient sandstorm, the almost surrealistic fantasy of an otherworldly space dream, where the violence ultimately emerges menacingly with an epic, shimmering edge Cavern aura explodes as even hints of psychedelic, pounding danceability are inhaled, complete with shimmering classical hymns. The artistic artwork on the record is coherently chosen.
There the almost seamlessly mutating entire work fades into a pastoral shimmer Crystallised over, which hooks its riffs with a core feeling from the mystical substance into an astral cinemascope, gets hungry impulses from the desperately pleading euphoria of the vocals, while Park’s melodic tendencies live out into a triumphant gesture in the solo. That’s how it works Divine Laughter like a felt reboot for Cave Sermon through a showcase of the genre year so far, shines in an eclectic way, self-confident and well-rounded.
In Liquid Gold Park designs the painterly catharsis almost stoically and works his way scenically to a hasty transcendence, where the defined and clear-cut, but sometimes a little too unchallenging and clean production brings the strengths of the material to the point in terms of effectiveness, but also the individuality of the music not necessarily forced either. The orchestral vaudeville nuances in the arrangements, for example, can only be felt imaginatively – an ambivalent decision. With room for improvement Divine Laughter However, either way it still has a good laugh in the long run and proves to be a compact grower.
The Paint of an Invader hurls his guitars at Aaron Turner with a straight, blasting blackened attitude and finds the thoughtful calm of a post-rock introspective before Birds and Machines in Brunswick explores and deepens the ambient mood of the record as a dark radiator soundscape.
Afterwards, the title track rears up like a summary of all the previously declined virtues in powerful balance, exists, like many moments of this second work, artfully beyond pure metal practicality, allows extensive playing times to fly by surprisingly quickly and leaves you with a hunger despite a coherent arc of suspense drawn over the entire work on more. Because the potential behind the record’s horizon seems intoxicating: Park has found Méndez – and Cave Sermon oneself.
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