There is a moment in the Explosions in the Sky song ""First Breath After the Coma,"" when the listener is enveloped by the combination of sound and the song title. It may have taken five minutes to get there, but the patience pays off. Explosions in the Sky achieve a variety of emotions without the use of discernable vocals, a challenge that often pays big when done right, and in this case it truly does. But it makes us ask, ""why?"" What can we get across in music that we can't express with words?
Chicago-based post-rock trio Russian Circles has been wrestling with this question since their debut release ""Enter"" in 2006. While their songs are incredibly effective, alive with rapturous drums and brick-wall guitars, the overall experience of their third release, Geneva, rings largely incomplete. Other than the pleasantly melodic ""Melee,"" the uncomfortably optimistic ""Malko"" and the uncannily climactic ""Philos,"" the record feels lost amidst the search for some higher purpose. As far as post-rock is concerned, Russian Circles definitely display the most energy and affinity for gut-wrenching bombastics and cold, desolate atmospheres.
Russian Circles as a product echoes this intensity, with a name reminiscent of the Cold War, foreboding album art and obtuse song titles. Since their first incarnation as Dakota/Daktoa, the members of Russian Circles have been flirting with the more lucid ideas presented in Geneva, burying any chance at comprehension behind song titles like
""Death Rides a Horse"" and ""Don't Pee in my Bed and Tell Me it's Raining."" ""Geneva"" pushes itself out beyond this cryptic tomfoolery, approaching the concept of a cohesive whole moreso than any previous release.
Album opener ""Fathom"" begins raucously, like a symphony trying to coordinate itself in the dark, and finally finds rhythm just before hitting bottom with the introduction of an anxious drum kit. Unfamiliar strings permeate Geneva, and along with inaudible vocal samples, help to provide us with a location that feels like one of David Lynch's dreams, a harsh and unforgiving reality. But these songs aren't meant to feel like anything other than that. They are devoid of comfort, leaving a frigid metallic aftertaste. Even when they slow down the tempo in the tracks ""Hexed All"" and ""When the Mountain Comes to Muhammad,"" the songs give off an air more akin to prostrate complacency than that of approaching a meditative enlightenment.
The title track is the most disjointed. Rhythmically, the bass and drums lay the listener down on a torture rack and pull to a triplet rhythm punctuated by lackadaisical guitars. Somewhere during relocation, ""Melee"" begins its slow, thermodynamic ascent. ""Malko"" is the stand-out track on the record precisely because of its ability to be recognized. Before the song descends into fuzz and blast-beat fills, it sports the only genuine guitar riff, leading us fearlessly closer to the end of a brazen experience. The album closes with ""Philos,"" a track that reverberates with a maturity and grace that the title implies. The rest of the tracks on the album search for the focus and structure of ""Philos,"" building up to a fantastic finish a long time in the making.
The problem with Geneva is that it answers the question, ""How can we create emotions without words?"" with another question: ""Where do we go from here?"" Geneva was more of the same from a promising group of atmospherically intriguing musicians. At the same time, this aimlessness is a strength. The repetitions echo time, which marches on to nowhere in particular. Thankfully, there is nothing wrong with this.
