Ongoing: Burning Axis – S/T


1: 11 April 2019

1: 11 April 2019
This album is sea sickness. A constant, giddy tilting. The summoning of mirage through weakness. The inner, churning weight of feeling utterly stranded, fated to sway and degenerate forever. All three instruments abide by this queasy imbalance. The guitar of Jan Christian Lauritzen (Noxagt, No Balls) withers into itself, chords hunched and emaciated, dissonances protruding like bone. The drums of Thore Warland (Golden Oriole, Staer) are like loose rum barrels knocking against the hull, occasionally puncturing the wood to relieve gushes of cymbal wash. The viola of Nils Erga (Findlay//Sandmark, ex-Noxagt) traces upturned smiles of sunlight across the sky, setting the whole scene at dusk – golden and shimmering, yet turning predatory and harsh through persistence. For a full 48 minutes the album hangs in this stale fatigue, creeping around the rim of death and reeking of it, yet somehow denied the catharsis of actually falling in. How incredibly cruel.

Same scene, but another image: the guitar and drums as the remnants of corporeal life, painted in the palette of jaundice, browning flesh and black-red sores. Miserable, staggering. Meanwhile, the viola and cymbals gleam with some sort of ghastly promise, like a dagger dangling aloft, perhaps hallucinated during those clouds of waning willpower; tempting, sharp but also shapeless, perpetually dancing out of reach. A pathetic, ever-dimming ray of mortal wanting.