Lustre – Wonder
Specifically, damn you for forcing me to re-evalute my jaded expectations. For when I saw the promo from Nordvis I thought, surely now, with your fourth full-length release in as many years, the frequency alone of your production would diminish the quality or, at least, the impact of your music, evocative of a living world outside the steel and glass traps of our cars and workplaces, a world where roads end and underbrush begins. But no lapse in quality or impact has occurred; somehow, the heights have grown higher, and I am pleasantly puzzled. Your Lustre project’s ever-present, simple melody lines, repeated with a lulling effect upon the listener, return now in 2013 astride new, continuous harmonic counterpoints as their vehicle, adding more depth to the music’s large-scale atmosphere than ever before. An exploration of higher frequencies via synthesized harpsichord and acoustic guitar sounds makes an appearance on each of the album’s four 9-minute tracks, giving guiding, sonic starlight amidst the aural black. Wonder‘s wider expanse could also be attributed in part to its carefully orchestrated production but, what matters on Wonder is mood – not technique – and, as with all Lustre recordings, of mood there is much to be had. ‘Moonlit Meadow’ captures that brief sense of awe one feels when stepping from a darkened forest onto a plain of lonely field, where wind twists the tops of the grasses in shimmering waves, and the sight of it slows the heart. ‘Green Worlds’ embroiders a teeming, vibrant cosmos with triumphant open guitars and an almost medieval sensibility of structure; in it, I felt as though I were peering over the shoulder of a creator-sorceror, ruminating on all the beauty that has been wrought. ‘A Summer Night’ proves that Lustre’s emotional spectrum stretches far wider than I’d previously understood, with a faster tempo and empowering, ominous keys and chords that command every shoegazer to look up now, and take stock of the dark warmth that surrounds us all, valuing its presence. ‘Petrichor’ translates as ‘the scent of rain on dry earth’, and as this final track heralds the return of reality back to the listener, it’s title resonates appropriately, as I feel music of this caliber reinvigorates, soothing the parched throat of pagans mired in modernity, preparing them, once more, for those unavoidable traps of glass and steel. – Jim
~ by cliftonium on August 7, 2013.