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Ether Island - Be Light na Vimeu
Ether Island - Season Of Risk na Vimeu
Among the legions of bands we’ve worked with that have died natural (or unnatural) deaths, MYTHICAL BEAST was a particularly lament-worthy casualty. Fortunately phoenixes rise, creative energies get repurposed and reharnessed, and what’s gone is not always lost. So it is that singer/kettle drummer CORINNE SWEENEY and guitarist/multi-instrumentalist JEREMIAH COWLIN abandoned Philly for the Nowheresville of Coyote, New Mexico to live off the grid with other address-less culture renegades and be reborn as post-apocalyptic grunge-drone doom-soul duo ETHER ISLAND. A Side opener “Season Of Risk” corrals a mud-flood of thick tectonic shred over a buried beat, Sweeney’s vox tearing through in hot red flashes like a prairie flash fire (tonally, it’s total 4-Track Demos-era PJ, raw and sensual). “Be Light” vibrates more vertically, rising like a smoke signal, a threatening cloud of raga strings and delay-stretched witch-blues vox. “Black Wind Way” deathmarches across the entirety of the B, plodding like a dying mule over parched plains, tremolo guitar hatcheting down, a single funereal organ melody threading over the sands and into the silence. Three singular statements from two old favorites on this one perfect nomad-psych slab. Black vinyl 7 inches in color-photocopied covers, with art/design by EL. - www.notnotfun.com/
Ripping their way through the Mythical Beast and off the grid in Coyote, NM, Corinne Sweeney and Jeremiah Cowlin keep the pseudo-exotic sounds of Not Not Fun in heat with their newest 7-inch “Season Of Risk,” trouping under then name Ether Island. Providing an earnest and genuine atmosphere, “Season Of Risk” and its flip-side “Be Light” fluctuate between the ransacked and the fleshed out: “Season Of Risk” being that hesitant moment when you question our modern American individualism involving storytelling, technology talk, food, fashion, easy-to-do, etc., and “Be Light” being more free-spirited in smash-grabbing any kind of individual thought and restricting it with 21st-century philosophy. Oh, wait, 21st-century American philosophy revolves around vampires and the apocalypse? Perfect! Slap Ether Island on ya player and bugg-out! - C Monster
Remember when Björk was angry? Not loud, but angry… That’s right, you can’t. She’s just a big faker, likely because the only thing to be angry about in Iceland is the Greenhouse Effect and that, despite the human population working to kill the ozone, it’s still cold as fuck. Ether Island is that angry Björk, outraged that no one gave two shits about the awesome swan dress they wore (where’s Björk’s Oscar for actually being a swan princess!?). Season of Risk is vengeful but also the kind of mind-blaster needed to break from the funk. It’s the primal screams after the unresolved hangs thick over the air. Whatever caused the demise of Mythical Beast is theirs to tell, but outcasts Corinne Sweeney and Jeremiah Cowlin have regrouped with kinetic fury. It’s a kick to the teeth, a knee to the groin, and a crushing handshake. Yeah, we missed this. Music is all emotions and it’s been lacking a shitty attitude reserved for aging rock stars and snotty pop idols off the stage. We want it on stage, in the music, and crammed down our throats. We’ve grown soft. Ether Island hasn’t. They are pissed. They are vengeful. Rather than become Dexter Morgan, they’ve splayed open the victim in front of all of us. They warned you: this is the Season of Risk. Heed it. - J Spicer
Arresting Americana Doom and etheric grunge from the edge of civilization. Since sacrificing their Mythical Beast, Corinne Sweeney and Jeremiah Cowlin abandoned Philly for the wilds of Coyote, New Mexico, living off the grid and conceiving the low sunken sound of Ether Island. "A Side opener “Season Of Risk” corrals a mud-flood of thick tectonic shred over a buried beat, Sweeney’s vox tearing through in hot red flashes like a prairie flash fire (tonally, it’s total 4-Track Demos-era PJ, raw and sensual). “Be Light” vibrates more vertically, rising like a smoke signal, a threatening cloud of raga strings and delay-stretched witch-blues vox. “Black Wind Way” deathmarches across the entirety of the B, plodding like a dying mule over parched plains, tremolo guitar hatcheting down, a single funereal organ melody threading over the sands and into the silence. Three singular statements from two old favorites on this one perfect nomad-psych slab." - boomkat
I’ve been beggin’ and pleadin’ and wishin’ and hopin’ for a record for a record to call my own and just like last week it turns up at the very last minute. Here is a duo from New Mexico whose sound is as foggy and murky as a wet November morning on the A646 to Mytholmroyd.
On the A side you get two songs: The first synth-led with powerhouse vocals like a gender-swapped Jack White howling along to Suicide, the second an eerie bluesy exploration, through the murk, kind of one part a distorted Joplin, one part deranged Cat Power with shards of distorted reverbed guitar. Music for those who think Bruce Springsteen’s ‘State Trooper’ just ain’t paranoid enough.
But it’s the B side ‘Black Wind Way’ which is my favourite. It could be Beach House at 33rpm or a young Low playing the hits of Galaxie 500. The song is organ-led, churning slowly with breathy female vocals whispering in and out of the mix to tremendous effect. A 7” of two halves - one side intensely unsettling, one side soothing. Limited to 300. - www.normanrecords.com/
You can't get through any year without explicit mention of a foreboding apocalypse, but in 2012 the fruit of the tree of forewarning seems to be especially ripe. Ether Island imagines a rather retro nuclear winter, a prospect that seems quaint but also alarmingly more possible than ever, since there is a seemingly unbridled ability for complete nutcases to run countries with burgeoning nuclear abilities. The crisp vocals of kettle drummer Corinne Sweeney crackle over a fallout shelter radio frequency; the thumps of her bass drum echo like a distant artillery. As far as notices of world-ending go, this one is about ten times less silly than any sort of zombie apocalypse; it's a fear rooted in a possible real future. - www.imposemagazine.com/