"I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand"
The guide? Specifically Virgil (in Dantés Divine Comedy), as
I'm convinced Hell's most renowned tourist would be of some comfort promenading
these dark chambers. In the world of The Post, violence and anguish quickly
submit to hopelessness. With In the Event of Tomorrow, such recurring
themes lend the bands third offering the status of 'concept album' in the art
of despair.
Beginning with the mournful Where Are the Wolves, angular guitar landscapes
reminiscent of Slint or (Come On Die Young-era) Mogwai and
a shimmer of reverb combine to conjure imagery of extreme isolation. Against
this backdrop, a strained howl of a vocal makes singer Oliver Boch seem to
cry his lyrics. I know of nothing comparable save perhaps an early Nick Cave
or David Byrne. Boch sobs and bleeds over the music and there's no let-up,
no happy ending, just circle within circle of pain and suffering.
"Choke on your last breath, ask me no questions" compels Into the Lifeboats.
Indeed the whole album is laced with sensations of abandonment, helplessness
and the certainty that no relief shall be forthcoming. Elsewhere Shattered
at the Mouthpiece serves as a perfect instrumental aperitif for the majestic Helping
Hands. Whereas the former track (think Bloc Party) merely plays at being
an early Joy Division, the later does it for real with impressive spatial production
and spectral music. I am reminded here also of Wolfgang Press masterwork I
am the Crime, while later offering Until we Bring recalls 90s
alt-rockers The God Machine in its arrangements.
That In the Event of Tomorrow even saw light of day is testament
to founder member Oliver Bochs' resilience and ingenuity during testing times.
Wholesale line-up changes forced the album to be recorded in two completely
separate sessions. Boch took the ambitious decision to segue the different
tracks using loops and samples, the effect of which transformed the modest
handful of discordant tracks into a far more atmospheric, holistic body of
work.
Considering the burgeoning recognition for the genre 'Post Rock', The Post
made a brave choice simply naming themselves as such. Certainly, yes they inhabit
the further regions of rocks bleak landscapes, but The Post never really 'rock'
either in the traditional sense or in any other sense. Bass would benefit from
greater confidence especially given that The Post don't follow the quiet LOUD
template many of the post rockers rely on. Not for them 9 min-plus track lengths
either. The whole album is confined within 39 minutes. Perhaps wisely so, for
this is an examination in personal tolerance levels surpassing even Radiohead at their most tormented.
The concluding and defining moment is undoubtedly Polar. After the
tortured journey taken thus far, Polar feels like the blissful release
only death can bring. A hauntingly beautiful elegy with its delicate keyboard
sequences by far the most melodic thing we've encountered.
"The only thing I'll say to you, it will soon be fine" The sound, simply, of letting go. Let us hope that The Post as a jobbing band do not submit their career as easily as their thematic protagonist might.
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
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