Review by Jason Guest
Bass and drums? That’s just a rhythm section isn’t it? Well, if that’s the case somebody’d better tell Dorian Williamson and Aidan Baker – the duo known as Adoran – because they’re doing it all wrong. Baker’s drums are the pulse of the piece and he taps and crashes out odd rhythms but his kit is used in a more decorative manner, cymbals and skins embellishing the ever expanding soundscape that unfolds in both of the tracks. And bassist Williamson, instead of holding the low end down, he’s digging deep and exploring and excavating tones and shapes that, when brought to the surface, react to the light and immediately offer up an array of ethereal and mystical imagery.
Plotting a long, arduous yet beautiful and gradual change, occasionally menacing, curiously colourful, painstakingly precise yet always flowing in steady transmutation, both tracks are intriguing pieces. And at thirty minutes each, both are beyond words. If anyone asked you to describe this, you’d be better off pulling a face, or at least a series of grimaces seguing by degree one into the next. You could maybe try mime; that’d be much better. You could paint a picture perhaps. Or watch footage of the atom bomb exploding in extremely slow motion. If you want to give it a name, I suppose minimalist doom would serve. But of course there’s much more to this than a simple genre tag. Adoran emerge from beneath the lowest registers accessible to human hearing and reside in the penumbra between the enlightened and the enigmatic. Turn the lights down low, trip over in the dark trying to find the stereo, press play, and let yourself sink into the lime and limpid green.
8 out of 10
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