BATTLESTATIONS

Battlestations' debut album heralds the type of music that the band focus on their next album, very ambient atmospheric shoegaze music to chill out too. This album however has more voice over orations than the followup, particularly in the opener 'Segment 1: No Survivors'. Immediately I was reminded of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and this music is definitely darker in tone and atmosphere than anything on "In A Cold Embrace". The anonymity of the band further cements the mystique of the music that mystifies and compels in equal measure. The music seems to fit the cover image of broken down train warning lights, and the imagery of abandoned trains on lonely railroads with the grey sky as a backdrop; images that pervade the CD booklet.

There are steam hisses to accompany the bleak keyboards and guitars. The repetitive motif is a signature style with Battlestations and it builds patiently along the lengthy running time of 19 minutes. At 9 minutes more voice intonations are heard and a new style of music chimes in with strong guitar clangs and a pulsating bass. The droning bass becomes isolated and then at 12 minutes a beautiful acoustic passage is heard. I admit that I am more taken with the strong variation than on the followup that seems to sit on one key motif for the majority of each song. The guitar and piano are joined by a strange apocalyptic voice over stating "every piece of this earth carved up and sold to the highest bidder". This segues into the next session with reverbed guitar strums and swathes of keyboards. Serene piano drives the next piece and then an echo chamber of piano fortissimo along some ambient strings to end it.

The next piece 'Segment 2: The Taste of the Kill' is the shortest at 8 minutes sandwiched in between the epics. It is dominated by an echoing piano chord and organic keys. The steady drum beat is louder and stands out as a result on the album. The guitar strums are wonderful and there are layers of other instruments creating a soundscape of tranquillity. A voice over is heard making sense of the music; "People are scared, angry, hostile, hate everything? there are cults all over the place." A chant is heard after this, like a protest march, and a pulsing drone generates a darker sound. The pulses are augmented by sonic shrieks and bleak effects; this is one of the darker tracks from Battlestations.

The last piece is another epic almost clocking 19 minutes, 'Segment 3: Accidents Of Ideals'. It begins with flickering static and a sonic heartbeat effect. This is joined by upsweeps of reversed keyboard swells. A textural passageway is created with moody bass overtones and guitar picking. A reversed voice enhances the chilling atmosphere. Otherworldly crunches of loud synths build with menace and the music becomes denser. The guitars build into an entrancing theme with backwashes of synth and some creative basslines. Later a peaceful synth line takes over with some more voices, "privatise everything, deregulate?.. hungrier than the poor?.. destroying people's future, their lives", accompanied by loud drones. Layer upon layer of keyboards, and a moderate rhythmic percussion, rounds off another excellent track.

The music on this album may well suit the soundtrack to your darkest hour, and it may take on new meanings and perspectives according to the frame of mind of the listener or the mood they are in when listening to it. The music carves out images on the conscious of dystopian worlds and social injustice. It is excellent headphone music but may have the added effect of depressing some listeners. I did not find it too depressing, although it is definitely bleak, because the music has uplifting qualities and is rather soothing to the senses. As one allows the music to soak into the emotions it has an uncanny ability to induce restfulness or calmness. This is the better album out of the 2 studio releases of Battlestations due to the variations on each track, and overall thematic content, but both albums are among the better choices if one desires to indulge in modern Post Rock.