Hopes of Failure

It can be difficult to write about something that meets its goal with such a minimalist approach. That's not to say that Aseethe's latest Hopes of Failure is simplistic, or even all that easy to grasp the first time around. Rather, I think they created their molten drones with the wordless understanding that complex reactions are still possible through plodding rhythms, doomsday riffs and thrumming bass noise. Of course they're right in thinking that; even if many newcomers fail to make their point, the hypnotic effect is undeniable when articulated by the true faithful.

I had the chance to witness Neurosis live a couple of months back and Swans a few before that-- both shows coincidentally happened at the same venue. In both cases, I was amazed that the bands could wrench sound out beyond the guidelines of the given song and forge a huge atmosphere that would have stayed fascinating for hours. Though not quite at that legendary level, the fact alone I can favourably compare a little-known outfit like Aseethe to such titans is some indication that Aseethe really know what they're doing. Even if their to-the-bones simple formula could be justly described in few words, the experience of Hopes of Failure is larger than the sum of its parts.

This is Aseethe's second full-length, following Reverent Burden in 2011. While they sharpened up their execution for Hopes of Failure, the gist is still roughly the same: slow crushing riffs, ominous drums, and sparse vocal contributions to signpost the controlled noise. Taking the Neurosis sludge template to its dissociative, minimalist extreme, Aseethe's slow and steady approach practically revels in its barren simplicity. Effective as they are, the riffs here can sound basic even by the lugging standards of their niche, using a handful of trusty notes on the bassy end like nothing else mattered.

Although some quasi-melodic post-rock layering works its way in on "Sever the Head" and "Into the Sun", Hopes of Failure is one of those albums where you become consciously aware of those ringing spaces between chords. I can imagine timing out the structures posed its own challenge judging from how fluidly Aseethe perform together, but you shouldn't expect them to provide an escape route once they plunge you into the murky void. There's a definite feeling that they make things "busier" (read: faster, and with more notes) on "Into the Sun", maybe to serve as a kind of climax, but compared to other records I've heard like this, there's not so much resembling a light at the end of this tunnel. There's an overarching theme in post-rock and related metal styles where drawn-out buildups are rewarded accordingly with grand catharsis and sense of uplift. There are parts of Hopes of Failure that seem to suggest this is coming, but I don't think it was ever in the cards with Aseethe. The closest thing to a finale on "Into the Sun" seems to rise just high enough to ensure it drags you back down to the bassy dirge the album started with.

Aseethe's sound is barren by nature, and their plodding compositions can feel downright nihilistic when you're in the thick of it. Of course, there's a certain sense of structure that reveals itself when you take the thing as a whole, but the fundamental release with Hopes of Failure lies in the physical sound they create. The crushing guitars will still get the "Sick riffs man" response from doom dudes the world over, but the atmosphere they conjure up by blending the guitars in with the throbbing bass and drums is stiflingly bleak and completely effective. I could see myself being totally bored with the album if I wasn't in the right mindset, but I could say the exact same about any of my favourite ambient albums. And like any appropriately dark ambient music, it's not hard to think up apocalyptic landscapes in your mind's eye when this album's spinning. Based on their inaugurated tradition of pessimistic album titles, it feels as if Aseethe's music means to pay tribute to the times when things don't turn out okay; the sort of grating real-life wake up call when hard work and high hopes don't pay off. Like perpetually crawling down a tunnel for a light at the end of it that long since flickered out while you were working on getting to it.

Originally written for Heathen Harvest Periodical.