Triangular Ascension - Leviathan Device

John Carpenter's "The Thing" has a proper score at last and yes, I know it's nearly thirty years after the fact. Don't let that detail get in the way of delving into the foreboding menace which Triangular Ascension deliver with a debut album that is sure to please even the most hardened fan of this classic film and satiate the tastes of those who prefer their listening experience strictly on a reclusive level. It's one man running the show, commanding all this tension and his name is Federico Ágreda Álvarez. Haven't heard of him before? Check out his work under the name Zardonic, I'll wait. Alright then. Aside from the unnervingly precise way "Leviathan Device" syncs up to celluloid, there is the visceral, almost guttural sensation of absolute dread you come away from hearing this record with. Everything winds down, coming to it's end regardless of the subject wanting it to or not.

Slowly decaying sounds and then an explosion which comes out of the speakers like shattering glass, something is moving behind the scenes. Yes, this thing is plenty dark, almost the darkest issuance from the Cyclic Law label yet, and that's saying something. They seem to be on a mission to define the term 'dark ambient' with an all encompassing exactitude; I'd say they're well on their way. Once again, the walls come in at you... the very air you breathe is festooned with acrimonious malignancy. This isn't what you play around others, Triangular Ascension are not meant for light-hearted dinner parties or celebrations of life and love. This is the album you play when you sit alone at the table with a glass of wine at three AM letting your mind excrete all the disgusted repugnance you feel towards the world. This is the record you listen to half-awake when your subconscious takes control, when who you really are comes out and breathes fully for a little while... a cordial smile on the lips.

I'll be very curious to hear what the band do to follow this one up, or if there even is a next record. The coldly precise way in which "Leviathan Device" plays out has me grinning inwardly like a kid who has just discovered he can lie with impunity so long as he doesn't show any emotion externally. This is a dead place, a land of wrath and rancor thoroughly given life through the medium of Triangular Ascension's riveting observations wrought in sound. "Leviathan Device" was cultured in a vacuum yet somehow it got out and I'm happy to do all I can to help spread the infection. Listen to the sound of the clock ticking... that's no accident. Apr 07 2011