A U R O R A

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And all of the 2009 album’s eleven tracks more than lived up to the spine-tingling promise of its aggressive, viscerally evocative title. The material on this site may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used, except with the prior written permission of Condé Nast.

Said track is a full percussive assault, Harris’ trademark chimes ringing and echoing around Frost’s towering orchestral flourishes, while Fox and Ismaily add a little blunt force trauma to the mix. What immediately separates this record is the emphasis on percussion: since his droning debut on room40 with Steel Wound, Frost had treated anything that needed to be hit as an afterthought, letting his near-beatless textures do the heavy lifting. Where Tim Hecker's Virgins (which Frost had a hand in) saw him home in on the power of live instrumentation, A U R O R A does just the opposite.Pre-release single “Venter” relishes the fresh darkness with its simplistic, percussion driven beginnings, these creatures of the night given free reign for a vast majority of the piece slowly gearing up with mob-like mentality towards the explosive and destructive finalé as the pent up energy is spun out in rather anticlimactic waves of devolving, aggressive cymbals and empowered synth lines. It evolves delicately with just the merest hint of melody breaking through the distortion, emotional trauma buried and hushed away in this glorious piece of Drone work, sad and melancholy but expertly hidden away. Predominantly written in DR Congo and performed by Frost, Greg Fox (ex- Liturgy), Shahzad Ismaily and rhythmic overlord, Thor Harris of Swans, the release was birthed from self-induced isolation and a collective desire to excavate inherent truths of nature and being; submitting to swathes of noise with the implicit aim to evoke an altogether transient moment of lucidity.

The album is dense and aggressive, spewing fire and venom from every angle and creating an environment that’s not just dark and ominous, but corrosive to the touch. Where the structurally bereft white-noise of “No Sorrowing” proves a tad disappointing after such a cathartic peak, it, along with the aforementioned “The Teeth Behind Kisses”, are all that stand between A U R O R A being a relentless onslaught lacking the necessary space for one to consider the majesty of its wrath. Lost in the crescendo arms race is the album’s final couplet, which find Frost looking further afield than before. If anything the only Maybe not quite as oppressive as By The Throat, but still an incredible experience of distortion filled experimenting. It arrives on a fresh batch of pained, wailing guitar drone and thick, deliberate drum beats ultimately arriving at the crescendo but taking their own sweet time to do so, savouring each stroke.Unlike his past work, there are no guitars, piano, or stringed instruments; instead, the 41-minute collection focuses on synthesizers and the heavy percussion of ex-Liturgy drummer and current Guardian Alien leader Greg Fox and Swans’ Thorr Harris.

A moment of barely restrained panic as the music parts for a brief time before “the cut” happens sees a thin slice of drone stutter into a stellar tumble of breathtaking synth catharsis, a luminous and all consuming tumult of sound but one that only has a short time in the limelight like everything else. The opening ‘Flex’ isn’t much of an indicator to what soon follows, as the second track ‘Nolan’ fries your ears with striking synths and pounding percussion. Vote up content that is on-topic, within the rules/guidelines, and will likely stay relevant long-term. By the Throat never allowed the listener to be entirely sure when the hit was going to land; on A U R O R A we know when and where the punches are coming, and instead are dared to resist the onslaught itself. Most purchases from business sellers are protected by the Consumer Contract Regulations 2013 which give you the right to cancel the purchase within 14 days after the day you receive the item.

Aurora Sparkle is a premium shimmering fine glitter that creates a sparkling effect when sprinkled over adhesive or wet paint. These digital gusts feel powerful but illusory, just like the natural phenomenon the album's title refers to. Then a roaring crescendo from the nothing comes in and immolates the song into molten gothic horror.

With the fog parting on the horizon and the sun rising urgently in the East, the album splinters into full-blown technicolour on the glitchy introspection of “Sola Fide” and closing, techno-tinged highlight, “A Single Point of Light” – a triumphant ten minutes of intent-drenched transmutation and steady disintegration. To me, at least, it has this sort of grand and cinematic feeling without there really being that much going on under the surface—just a very carefully-composed set of sounds and occasional melodies. If anything the only real downfall of this album is the slight lack of cohesion as compared to Ben Frost's earlier works, but it's still a must listen for anyone looking into dark ambient or experimental music, and a welcome addition for previous Ben Frost fans. In an interview with Pitchfork, he said the scientist would be his dream collaborator: “It would be about getting some face time with the guy who literally synthesized life—he made life.

With a brief sliver of white noise shrieking off into the ether, A U R O R A segues into unfamiliar silence and the tide – post-storm – rolls in once more, Frost, Fox, Ismaily and Harris standing on the ravaged shore, quietly awe-struck by the resplendent ruin. Enjoy 20% off your purchase today when you sign up to our newsletter and be the first to get notified of the latest releases and exclusive special offers straight to your inbox! At 26 he moved to Camberwell, joining its long-established colony of paleo-personal trainers and making music on the subjects of protein shakes and cocaine. With the tone, implacable and steadfast, confidently set on “Flex”, a barrage of sharp frequencies, lacerated melodies and clambering metallic rhythms propel its follow-up, “Nolan”, a six-minute barrage that masterfully marries beauteous sonic disfigurement with unwavering caustic noise. This bleeds into “Nolan”, a track that would fit easily on Tim Hecker’s Harmony in Ultraviolet, featuring a percussive thump—sticks rattling, synthesizers lapping.