“This is a good album of a complex EM which won't disconcert the fans of Syndromeda, nor the fans of Berlin School”
1 The Rise and Fall of the Chaos 10:56
2 Break the Walls 4:06
3 The Illusion 9:11
4 Discover the Temple 9:11
5 Funny Looking People 11:37
6 The Revenge 10:50
7 Switch 9:06
8 Kojo no Tsuki 1:52
(CD-r/DDL 66:55) (V.F.)
(Progressive Berlin School)
Strange tones, coming from a world in perdition and floating between a cosmos calcified by its dense sound fauna and its depth of heavens, open the introduction of The Rise and Fall of the Chaos. Circles with eroded contours of reverberations gradually stabilize by emitting clicks, chipping away at this uncomfortable darkness before sinking into the gentle whirlwind of a heavy line of sequences and its staggering rhythm covered by a synth with acid chants and twisted lamentations. This heavy rhythm continues its cosmic crossing with a dark and rumbling movement where subtle resonances degrade the magnificence of this structure which settles down to flow in cosmic waters. An apocalyptic siren filters its strident airs there while a derailed vocoder speaks in a metallic oblivion streaked with ocher layers. Plunging us into a dark radioactive atmosphere where the rhythm pulses lazily under a synth with complaints as corrosive and distorted as ever. The Rise and Fall of the Chaos announces the colors of a heavy album with intriguing and mysterious sounds. These are the qualifiers that come to mind to best describe this latest work of the enigmatic Syndromeda. Break the Walls is a title with a bubbling rhythm where the synth soliloquizes in a nebulous atmosphere which is enveloped in a mass of boiling streaks. The Illusion is a long paralyzed ode which begins to undulate halfway through with a jerky sequenced movement which adopts a delicate crystalline wave in a dark atmosphere fill of caustic reverberations. A soporific title but with an intriguing hint of heaviness which is ideal for a nightmarish passage in a good horror film. Discover the Temple is an imaginative title as I like them. The intro is garnished by soft breezes and ethnic choirs from a jungle flown over by ocher veils whose impulses calmly animate an increasing movement. A pulsating cadence creates a slow and hypnotic rhythm pierced by curt breaths which whistle like darts coming out of their blowpipes. All of this under a sound dome rich in synthesized streaks and twisted solos. It's a very good title.
A structure of undulating and fluid sequences opens Funny Looking People. This movement of sequences, which sounds so much like Tangerine Dream's, harpoons a rhythmic supported by a fine bass line which is drowned under an avalanche of sharp, strident and circular solos sometimes melodious and jerky. Following a soft vaporous intro, The Revenge rages on thunders of percussions which smash the nothingness. Percussions thunder in this heterogeneous universe where distant voices and a mellotron synth court a strange sound rise which takes shape like an Indian dance. Switch pulsates on a wriggling sequence enveloped by a white mellotron's shadow which animates a bass line. Delicate streaks color a horizon sprinkled by scattered keyboard notes and solos with circles that follow one another in a melodious minimalist pattern. After three minutes, percussions slightly hit the structure to bring it towards more accentuated beats, without ever becoming too frenetic, and end with a staggering sequenced movement surrounded by well-bodied solos. A title that has a whole effect with a headset, allowing to discover all the sonic splendor that is hidden behind Switch. And this is also valid for the whole album. An album that ends with a short and strange piece, Kojo no Tsuki and its odd dark procession that emerges from an obscure Middle Ages, testifying to the conceptual strangeness of this 19th opus by a musician who marvellously merges round sequences and undulating to synths with sounds as bright as sharp.
THE FINAL CONSPIRACY is a great album that won't confuse Syndromeda's fans, the Berlin School-style and progressive EM fans.
Sylvain Lupari (October 9th, 2009) ***½**
Available at SynGate Bandcamp