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Reviews 351: MAÂT

At the end of 2019, Growing Bin Records tossed a special surprise into one of my mailorder packages, which took the form of an unmarked and incorrectly sequenced test pressing of an upcoming release. Even without any context to anchor myself to, I dove over and over again into the entrancing landscapes of world music infused post-rock, cinematic sunset disco, solar stoner blues, seaside psych folk, balearic dub pop, organic studio jazz, and new age fusion contained therein, all the while feeling as if I had some secret sonic treasure completely to myself. And after spending a few weeks in blissful ignorance, having no clue where or when in the world this music was created, its source was finally revealed as the trio of Adrien Colle, Tim Karbon, and Maxime Castanet, otherwise known as MAÂT. Far from spoiling the magic though, knowing the authors of Solar Mantra only enhanced the experience, as did the loose ideological framework provided by the song titles and Alan Briand’s enigmatic artwork, for now, I had conceptual signposts to guide my imagination as it continued exploring the trio’s exotic environments, where rainforest rhythms anchor skeletal stoner blues riffs as smoke-shrouded vocals croon towards the sunset; where bass synths filter between fusion walks and subsonic growls while idiophones of every color splash and sparkle; where pastoral prog guitars jangle over the heavenly drone of an electric organ; where chanted harmonies flow into mantric incantations above spiritual synth cascades, swelling cymbal shimmer, and ambient funk basslines; and where heady angel voices melt down over soul-affirming expanses of dub-kissed dreampop psychedelia. I was also thrilled to discover that MAÂT dedicated the album to Don Cherry’s, Naná Vasconcelos’, and Collin Walcott’s work in Codona, a favorite group of mine who here provide less of a direct sonic inspiration and more so a spiritual one, as Solar Mantra sees another trio of gifted and sympathetic collaborators pushing each other to the limits of individual creativity in the search for sonic transcendence.

MAÂT - Solar Mantra (Growing Bin Records, 2020) In “The Walk,” echo-soaked toms, tambourines, and chain off snares gallop through the void while claps crack, four four kicks beat beneath dreamspace vibraphones, and desperate smears of singing fade into focus. Then everything cuts away, leaving space for ceremonial organs and fat acid basslines to ambulate beneath a pair of voices seeming to intone “can’t you see how they walk?” as bells and shakers swell violently. A squelching synth solo seeks out the sunrise and light kisses of dub delay work the snares as the track spreads further out into pastoral folk psychedelia, with ecclesiastical organ chords supporting jangling acoustic guitars. Vibraphones add soulful jazz flourishes and harmonize with bleary-eyed fusion leads as pleading vocals thread in and out of the stereo field and at the track’s conclusion, kick drums and shakers move together, hand drums spill over themselves, and those smokey vocal hazes continue flowing in round over light acoustic guitar brushstrokes, before it all ends in a fractal storm of xylophones and shakers. “Jaki & Bryn” comes to life on smoldering synth swells as twanging guitars play single note snake charmer leads before working into a potsmoke chug. Synthetic bells melt and pitter patter percussions pop beneath lyrical incantations, with everything slowly devolving into self-oscillating abstracting. As we snap to the groove, we find ourselves floating on a post-punk raga of skeletal guitar riffing while shakers and bongos guide the hypnotic groove. Organs dart and dash like fireflies and haunted vocalisms flow in each ear, with touches of downer prog and crooning blues mergin into a stoner lullaby. At some point, everything cuts away, leaving lonely lyricisms to float in the void, accompanied by a light panorama of shakers and melting chordscapes. Later, as ping pong echo drums rush us back into the groove, music box arps move drunkely over melting FM synth environments…the whole mix growing strange and alien. Subtle blasts of galactic magic suffuse the stereo field as we work towards the end and eventually, it all reduces to minimal guitar work and hazy vocal hymns, with drums clattering wildly and everything filtering towards darkness.

Minimalist organs join a dancing panorama of filtering chords in “Feuglace” before everything starts reversing in time. Subsonic drums and shakers emerge amidst a bubble cloud of echo-morphing vocal expressionism and as soul-soaked house chords pan across the spectrum, we drop into the groove proper, where dazzling cymbal patterns work around slap bass fusion lines while snares and claps swing on the beat. Idiophones play melancholic island melodies and at some point, the groove grows abstract, with militant percussions pounding then fading as kalimbas, marimbas, vibraphones, and tapped cymbals dance through a cloud of reverb. Then comes a smash cut into tribal hand drum rolls, Afro-folk guitar refractions, and ghostly vocal harmonizations while xylophones beat out sunshine refrains. And later, after the vocals morph into a cloud of fevered insect psychedelia, smeared deep house pianos return alongside handclaps and equatorial fusion basslines to guide an irresistible groove, wherein sparkling ride cymbals and cycling organ riffs refract sunshine and those scatting echo vocal swim far in the distance while the stereo swells with mutating choral hazes. The A-side closed with “Solar Mantra” and its steel pans dancing in a picturesque sunrise. Shakers and tambourines glitter over a tropical bongo groove and layers of plucked psaltery slowly suffuse the stereo field with a jangling dance of polyrhythmic string psychedelia. Sensual sub basslines soften the vibe and kalimba melodies fall like a gentle summer storm until suddenly, vocals ride in on effervescing tapestries of electronic drumming and sing towards the sky: “I want you to grow / praise the sun”. Bleary-eyed synths solo softly and vocal scats imitate shakers as everything reduces down to simplistic hand drumming, ambient thumb piano atmospheres, and plucked string shimmer. But eventually, the groove slowly builds back in strength, though somehow it all seems shambolic and barely held together as various passages flow in and around each other according to some unknowable logic, with plucked psaltery glowing and smokey vocals moving between the titular solar mantra and wordless soul reveries.

“Quetzal Pacino” builds wondrous anticipation from the outset, with mallets tapping and ethereal atmospheres swelling. Violins soar to the surface and drums take on a spaghetti western gallop before dropping into disco intoxication, with hi-hats working the mind via energetic double time flourishes and big synth basslines snapping and sliding. The background swirls with fantasy orchestrations and occasionally, marimbas emerge to beat out anthemic island melodies. Basslines filter into a monstrous growl, martial snare rolls portend some mighty climax, and radiant whooshes of electro-psychedelia flow across the mix until the drums drop away, leaving basslines and layered mallet instruments to pound on the beat, ride cymbals to swell into flashes of white light, and oceanic phaser strings to seek out the sky. Then, things reduce further and string synths start weaving paradise spells amidst a rainfall of cymbal shimmer. And as the extasy-laced disco groove builds back to epic proportions, with a sunset symphony swimming overheard and filtered basslines roaring, the vibe is of some thrilling chase scene…of convertibles careening down seaside highways in the light of the setting sun…the heart racing along with urgent disco drum pulsations while textures of tropical exotica subsume the spirit. Cosmic electronics harmonize with Renaud Guy-Rousseau’s clarinet in “Clairière,” with druidic cycles and ancient melodies spreading into delirium drone. Textured clicks move beneath howling ghosts while cymbal and rimshot splashes bring to life a tribalistic drum groove, which kicks fully into gear once romantic basslines begin executing drunken dances amidst layers of polyphonic idiophone mesmerism. Synths percolate like bubble clouds, hi-hats bash away, and moaning brass electronics mimic a siren until the rhythms disperse, leaving behind machine screams and computronic synth flourishes. Eventually, the clarinet re-emerges…its touches elegiac and reverb soaked jazz enticing the groove back into focus, now with sawing strings and sliding portamento sonics reminding me of the magisterial post-rock and desolate folk Americana of GY!BE, especially Efrim Menuck’s screwdriver guitar freakouts.

In “Mount Bevray,” blurred e-piano bass chords support solar feedback swells as slap jazz and fusion funk basslines dance across shimmering ocean wave crests. Layered cymbal polyrhythms gleam in the sunlight, brass polysynths spread outwards into new age fusion cloudforms, and all the while, wordless vocal cycles build in support…these paradise incantations of impossible beauty…so simple yet so emotionally affecting. At some point its all obscured by dark filtering, with the cymbal patterns fading and synths soloing through banks of moonlit seafog. But soon, the radiant rhythms of tapped metal return, bringing with them the psych pop vocal cascades and nimble bassline motions as the background overflows with wavefronts of balearic bliss. “Llomé Dub” opens in a futuristic seaside saloon setting, where lofi island percussion and snake tail rattles surround daydream ivory leads and tapped cymbals fall like rain. Droning organs sing LSD lullabies and an upright piano flutters on an echo breeze until we lock into a breezy psych pop groove featuring Laurel Canyon basslines that occasionally transmute into subsonic bubbles and drums that swing and sway in the dubwsie sunshine. Echo modulating tom toms and hyperkinetic ride taps join dopamine choirs to background lazed acoustic guitar strums and after a devolution into crazed delay fx and anxious musique concrète, we transition towards one of the best musical moments of 2020, as vocalist Leya descends upon the mix like some balearic angel to sing flower power dream lullabies while heavy dub basslines skank over bopping reggae-pop drumbeats, body swaying clap rhythms, and soaring 60s organs. The good vibes only increase from here, as the song works itself into a breathtaking closed eye chorus seeing Leya’s vocals move towards pure wordless revery while crazed echo lasers whoosh upwards…the whole thing so perfect as to soar the spirit towards a cloudland paradise. Then, it all breaks down and returns again to the seaside western settings of the intro, as saloon pianos and echo panning guitars move over a ghost town bassline thump. And as the drums resume, bringing rimshot taps and a jazz pop swing, glorious cascades of piano chord mesmerism flow over seasick sequences and oceanic organ wavefronts before it all gives way to an outro of bleating synth detritus, abstracted ivory flutters, and underwater dub bass.

(images from my personal copy)