“Each day, time drops a tiny death at your door.”
Nearly six years on from the release of their debut LP Loss, Manchester’s post-rock stalwarts Pijn have finally returned to grace us with another stellar full-length offering of glory and melancholy. Bolstered by a new line-up (including, amongst other comrades and collaborators, ex-Dawn Ray’d vocalist/violinist Simon Barr taking up full-time string duties) and with the confidence granted by several splits, singles and collaborations in the downtime between albums, this is an expansive and powerful return to form for the experimental collective.
Starting off slowly, with a creeping but immediately gripping build-up of tremolo bass and rhythmic percussion, interjected by passionately delivered but somehow resolutely impersonal spoken word excerpts, opener “Our Endless Hours” sets a mournful but captivating tone. Compared to the crushing post-metal found early in Loss, the atmosphere established here is far more patient and introspective. This feels like a very intentional choice by the musicians and it allows the densely layered instrumentation to envelop the listener like a warm blanket, before coalescing into a vibrant and cathartic crescendo of drums and distorted guitars, and finally wrapping up with delicate strings and piano leading us straight into the next track.
As album openers go it’s a particularly strong start even by previously established standards, and strongly hints towards a thrilling journey yet to come. The tension-laden transition into “Carved Expanse” is handled perfectly and instils the feeling of this record consisting of movements in a continuous piece, rather than individual and disconnected songs. A clear sense of progression and flow has been established and continues to run throughout the second track, itself hearkening back to many of the more dissonant and cacophonous walls of noise found on earlier releases. More punishing and heavy than the album opener but always keeping total sight of its main motif, and closing with similar peaks and valleys of melancholic bliss, this feels like Pijn hitting their stride effortlessly.
The first (and only) single released ahead of the album, “On The Far Side Of Morning”, is maybe the most cinematic piece on this entire record, reminiscent of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Mogwai’s early forays and definitive works in this style, but with a far harder and heavier edge. Seamlessly shifting between pensive and atmospheric clean sections and raw, discordant and almost primal sounding rhythms, the first half of this track sets a frenetic pace that barely lets up, until a brief mid-song respite in the form of a single soft guitar finally allows breathing room. The back half of the song takes a more focused approach to the sludgy atmosphere established earlier, and locks in all the various disparate instrumentation around a single, beautiful refrain.
Closer “A Thousand Tired Lives” very much feels like the culmination and crescendo that it is – a dense, haunting, energetic encapsulation of Pijn’s entire musical vocabulary and output thus far, building layer upon layer until its final few seconds of reflective ambience. Starting with off-kilter rhythms under a surprisingly catchy hook, before opening itself into a darker soundscape bolstered with aharmonious, squealing strings, this track is emblematic of Pijn’s strong ability to create a sense of tension and unease without veering too far off the path of melody. All at once cinematic but restrained, anthemic yet melancholic, expressive but introverted, this is a remarkable and powerful ending for an album that absolutely deserved and required one.
Speaking ahead of the album’s release, guitarist and producer Joe Clayton expressed that From Low Beams Of Hope was an “…attempt to get perspective on the passage of life, thematically and sonically embracing our own experiences in an attempt to create something that can feel at once uplifting and exciting, vulnerable and reflective, yet was made in fragmented and difficult surroundings”. These intentions are well and truly realised in this offering, and this album easily stands tall amongst its peers and contemporaries. It may occasionally suffer some of the inherent pitfalls of instrumental music and struggle to retain the full attention of listeners for every moment, but when From Low Beams Of Hope hits its peaks, it is hypnotic, emotive, and utterly and completely captivating.
“In the end, my friends – everything will end.”
8/10
From Low Beams Of Hope releases June 28th via Floodlit Recordings and can be pre-ordered here: UK/EU, US.