Published on Dec 8, 2005
It always makes me a little annoyed when we Americans get a clue
later than anyone else (that seems to be going on a lot
lately).
For example, let’s talk about the American debut from Belgium’s
Lunascape,
Reminiscence. Magnificent, ethereal vocals, a la Cocteau
Twins; check. Great musicianship; check. Tight beats and cool
sampling and loops; check. Attractive lead vocalist Kyoko
Baertsoen; check. Why have we missed this band for eight years? Who
do we have to smack upside the head?
Well, give credit to Noir Records for catching a clue. (They do
that a lot lately; I’m beginning to like this label.) They have
brought us a tasty sampling of Lunascape’s work, and I look forward
to more. The duo of Baertsoen and Walter Hilhorst create a
transcendental, groove-laden pop music that is not to be
missed.
Baertsoen credits Liz Fraser of the Cocteau Twins as an
influence, and it’s easy to see why; the layered vocals, enigmatic
lyrics, and strong feminine nature to Lunascape’s work is
unmistakeable. Where Lunascape goes beyond the Cocteaus is in their
ability to lay down a groove and stay grounded; while my exposure
to them is admittedly limited, I don’t recall ever having an urge
to get up and dance to
The Pink Opaque. Lunascape, on the other hand, manages to
strike a careful and well-produced balance between the aether and
the ground.
The CD starts off with the powerful, thrumming “Mindstalking,”
which is currently working its way up the dance charts in a remix.
It is rare a first song grabs you as hard as this one does; by the
time you’re thirty seconds into the track, you’re transported into
a world of shadows and smoke, Baertsoen’s voice leading you down
dark corridors. In a lot of ways, “Mindstalking” is reminiscent of
Peter Gabriel’s “Intruder” or Kate Bush’s “Watching You Without
Me;” there is a faint edge to it, something that leaves you
drained, unsettled, yet oddly content. I can’t say enough about
this track, except to say that yes, it’s that damned good.
The rest of
Reminiscence is as powerful. “Tears From The Moon” is
brilliant, rich, and string-laden; it’s no surprise that part of
what brought Lunascape to international prominence is Sinead
O’Connor’s decision to cover this track with Rhys Fulber in Conjure
One. “Lane Navachi” is a tour-de-force for Baertsoen’s arching,
ecstatic vocals. “State Of Mind” then turns around and goes funk,
with a spoken-word intro and an almost R&B backbeat. “Yairo” is
immensely danceable, with synthesizer that was giving me flashbacks
to the Alan Parsons Project’s “You Don’t Believe;” funky electronic
guitar laid over a throbbing drum line.
As a counterpoint, “Inferno” is almost a Gregorian chant; spare
and simple, almost a cappella, at odds with the heat inherent in
the track’s title. “Severed Heart” is almost rock in its driving
guitar, and “SOS Planet” closes the CD with delicate harmonies.
If I have one small disagreement with
Reminiscence, it’s that Noir has chosen to release a
compilation rather than releasing the two European Lunascape CDs
separately. While I understand the mentality behind the import
compilation CD — it’s a quick snapshot of a band’s work in an
easy-to-buy format for American audiences — I think that if you
only have two CDs it’s kind of a waste of time to boil them into
one. (Unfortunately, 2002’s
Reflecting Seyelence and 2004’s
Mindstalking are only available as expensive imports.)
That niggling point aside, Lunascape is an incredible experience
and a band to watch.
Reminiscence is just the beginning of what I hope to be a
wonderful and long career, and is definitely worth your time,
money, and attention.
For more information or to order the CD, check out
www.noir-records.com or
www.lunascape.net.