2023-08-12 07:01:02
„Where does reality end and where does it begin? And who, or what, decides this?” place Sleepwalker on their fourth studio album Scophophobe exoskeleton existential questions.
The multinational trio, which this time comes up with an almost exuberant Alex Reed list of instrumental participants in the discussion, remains unanswered, apart from the by no means new realization that everything is a question of perspective, of course, insofar as their avant-garde sound convolute, which acts without any genre conventions, remains unanswered with a labyrinthine effect once more resembles a disorienting fire accelerator, the threads of which begin in an avant-garde jam, but can actually only be resolved in disembodied transcendence: it really doesn’t matter what is reality in this maelstrom and what one’s own imagination is made of the substance makes.
The experimentally solved from all structures Mirrors Turned Inward is a symbiotic combination of black metal aesthetics brushed once morest the grain and free jazz laws on the field recordings border to cacophonic madness, roughly where rattling, reciting Portal a jam along Sumac and Keiji Haino would practice. While the hallucinogenic trance drags itself on as an open fever dream, whose tempo and hardness mutates unpredictably, while the menacing presence and exhausting intensity are always claustrophobic, the number always pulls when it seems to have found a common denominator for its psychedelic-disharmonic symphony, the Tears the ground from under your feet, readjusts your infernally mortifying test of strength – and at least the last third seems to offer a stage for realization, you seem to be on the trail of a deconstructed groove and not everything seems to make sense, but the round dance instinctively rises.
After that it seems Scophophobe exoskeleton even more open, although the expedition with 25 minutes is beyond the EP category (as of Sentient Ruin proclaimed – and other than the more exhaustive Night at the End of the World 2021) would have been a little too short, but otherwise delivers coherently designed episodes. Silesian Fur Coat is a stoic bastard of noise rock, howling roadhouse western atmosphere and horror attitude including a Far Eastern horizon: a force, because space and presence alone is captivating, the atmosphere anyway before The Eagle Flies as also too short a monster from a mystical nightmare temple with diffuse noise cascades with accessible schemes can be flirted with and The Bad Luck That Saved You From Worse Luck even an ambient-pleasant beauty over the contemplatively oppressive one You Dot-abyss pushes, metal tendencies rear up unconventionally, and the sedative riff bead drifts propulsively, leaving one immersed in the unfathomable worlds of Scophophobe exoskeleton loses.
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