TOZÏH

Magma casts a very long shadow over the zeuhl scene, especially for bands hailing from their native France. And it'd be weird if they didn't; they invented the damn micro-genre, after all. But that means a lot of bands seem to be almost pigeonholed into being Magma clones (or near-clones, at least). It can be a difficult balancing act to prominently display the influence of such a singular, idiosyncratic band as Magma without just sounding like you're recording Attahk, Pt. 2.

Rhùn manages to thread that needle pretty well. Their 2013 debut, Fanfare du chaos, is a decent zeuhl record. It is very Magmatic, sometimes too much so. The band shows a lot of creativity on it, even if they do occasionally wander into some overly-well-trod zeuhl tropes. Tozïh, their ten-years-in-the-making sophomore release, shows some clear improvement over its predecessor. The astral, jazzy weirdness of Magma is still front-and-center, but they've managed to make this record sound more their own.

The album opens with "Ehmët Um Rhët Sam", a 21-minute suite that occupies the entirety of side A. It starts with a long, slow fade-in of chimes, guitar noodling, and light percussion. This eventually coalesces into a slow-moving, jazz-flavored line featuring prominent saxophone and some squealing bowed string instrument. 

When the vocals finally come in, the verse has an unhurried feel, but there's also a sense of drama. I really like the bass playing in this section: whole chords are strummed, giving an immense weight. It's followed by a passage that's perhaps a bit too evocative of moments in "Theusz Hamtaahk", but it interpolates with other, more original musical ideas. That "weightier" theme serves as something of an anchor point, which the band returns to repeatedly, lending a lot of cohesion to this epic.

"Sédalg Rhëvé (incl.Ygahpoporhtna Lrig)" opens much more immediately, with a weirdly peppy chant. This track's first half is consistently energetic, with glimmering electric piano and warm, reedy saxophone taking the lead for much of its 11-minute runtime. There's a strange, extended section of what at points can sound like aimless noodling, but the musicians are skilled enough to keep even this oddball passage interesting. Near the midpoint, things slow down, and there's a more ritualistic feel to everything. While distinct from passages in the opening track, there are certain echoes.

Tozïh closes on "Eripme Cirtcele". It's got a jagged main riff where bass, keys, and sax all get equal prominence, and it feels like a more muscular, darker version of a riff I might have heard on Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré. There's a sense of lurking, foreboding doom on this track, and it's a fantastic way to end the album.

Rhùn's sophomore album, though a long time coming, was worth the wait. It's a strong piece of zeuhl that nods toward the genre's past while remaining firmly rooted in more modern sounds and production.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2023/07/31/album-review-rhun-tozih/