At the moment music passes the marker indicating a transcending of the typical record-to-listener relationship, elevated to another level entirely, you know you’re hearing something special. Carlisle’s Manatees achieve this feat, by bludgeoning the senses into a blissful numbness via a succession of super-amplified sonic assaults. Otherworldly blows invisible to the eyes, but shocking nonetheless.
In short, ‘Icarus, The Sunclimber’ is one heavy mother (Did I really just write “one heavy mother?” Sheeesh – Ed), an album so drenched in slow-motion power mechanics and guttural growls that it’s hugely unlikely to click with those who feel Gallows make an unholy, utterly unlistenable racket (i.e., this is a million times as volatile). It is, without doubt, a record big on volume and short on subtlety. At least, that’s the initial impression.
Because, as with Manatees’ preceding pair of standalone releases – both five-track affairs; they’ve also released a split with the classic rock-hued Freezing Fog – ‘Icarus’ soon opens itself up to reveal nuances enough to work texture into the sheets of scintillating aggression. Feedback burns the skull, drums pound like bombs exploding in a café across the street; the everlasting crunch of guitars builds into mountainous monoliths resonating utmost discordance and distemper. But this isn’t noise for the sake of it: within the dirge rest flashes of singular character, enough to separate Manatees from so many other Isis/Neurosis would-bes.
Vocals are presented to the fore in a manner more obvious than previous releases, sitting high in the mix and unsettling the first-timer with their blood-curdling intensity; again, the faint-of-heart will flee the encounter at great haste. But those used to output that skirts prog territories while maintaining a savage edge of sludgy massiveness will revel in this record’s tinnitus-promoting delights.
Too-sudden cuts somewhat disrupt the album’s flow (although that might just be a promo copy occurrence), but even when tumultuous noise breaks immediately for a shift of tact, one remains swept up in this record’s waves of sound. ‘Untitled’, sitting at four of six, grows to behemoth levels of bowel-clenching ferocity only to crack asunder and shuffle into a static drone entitled ‘False Sun’, itself something of a segue piece leading to the climactic twelve-minute flourish of ‘Out Of The Sky, Into The Gutter’. The closer’s almost bluesy, Jesus Lizard low-slungness sits rather at odds with the wailing despair of ‘Hyperion Altitude’, ostensibly the record’s most representative taster offering, but through neat sequencing at no point is the invested listener abandoned in hostile waters.
Less an album of music for the everyman, more a collection of emotion-stirring, fight-or-flee provoking attacks on the very idea of conventional heavy music, Manatees’ latest is their best yet and proof positive that British bands can not only accurately ape their stateside cousins of this ilk, but actually outperform them. Listen, loud, and feel your gut squeeze itself tight while your brain gets beaten black-blue and enjoys every second of it.
