Forever Becoming

The best music is pure power. It attracts you, it reels you in, it envelops you. That is a primary reason why I often retreat to albums through headphones, searching for a powerful construct that overwhelms the sense. I prefer the lights extinguished except for a single candle. I take my contacts out or my glasses off. My primary sense at this point is auditory. Words are not even necessary. Often times it is simply the music that rushes over.

The latest record from Chicago's Pelican is Forever Becoming and it is one of those records. It occupies the post-metal niche but it is more than that. It is not just meticulously crafted but almost created. It is movement and energy. It feels alive.

The album opens with "Terminal." A slow build-up, like an engine turning over on a cold morning. It is after a minute the song finds its footing. Bass and drums driving the slow rhythm, an electric guitar picking notes over the top as the melody builds. It comes to a stop before "Deny The Absolute" crashes like a wave, the tuned down guitars assaulting the record needle. The jarring bass of "The Tundra" that rumbles like a beast. "Immutable Dusk" open the second side of the first vinyl record (the orange vinyl, as compared to the blue), might be the best of those songs, interlacing doom sludge with respite of cascading guitar work.

What sets Pelican apart is that dichotomy. Of power giving way to groove giving way again to power. Without any vocals the music must stand on its own. It cannot give way to predictability but has to be grand in scope. So we have 8 songs that vary in length three-and-a-half minutes to over nine. But none of those minutes feels wasted or for naught. It builds upon itself in emotion.

Here is "Deny The Absolute."