Odd to think that the murky echo-chamber goth of the first Dead Can Dance album was a first step on a path leading to Lisa Gerrard's current level of refinement and mainstream acclaim. But then, it's been a steady trajectory. As Gerrard and Brendan Perry became more accomplished over time and more deeply immersed themselves in the possibilities of ancient music, they left behind any semblance of "rock." Eventually, film soundtracks seemed a logical next step. Gerrard has scored some good ones since the duo split in 1998 (The Insider comes immediately to mind), in addition to continuing with her solo and collaborative work.
Immortal Memory finds Gerrard working with Irish composer Patrick Cassidy to craft an epic, sweeping cycle of songs that's completely over the top-- usually in the best possible way. Most of the music comes from a mid-size section of sampled strings (impressive in their fidelity) backing Gerrard's voice. The arrangements are obviously suggestive of a film score, but the pieces are complete in themselves, with the kind of development not allowed by a series of cues.
It's a religious album, certainly, with themes as old as civilization. Pieces like "Maranatha (Come Lord)" and "Abwoon (Our Father)" bear a resemblance to monastic chants and have the ambience of a medieval church. Lyrics, when present, are often drawn from poems and early texts. Those songs not executed with patented 4AD wordlessness are sung in ancient Gaelic or Aramaic, reinforcing Gerrard's aesthetic connection to the idea of a collective unconscious, where memories and symbolic understanding are handed down through generations.
Of course, the power of Immortal Memory ultimately comes from Gerrard's voice, and here, she is like five great singers rolled into one, shaping her tone and elocution to fit seamlessly with the mood and style of each individual piece. Apparently, her control and authority are only increasing with age; her voice goes wherever it's needed. On both "Abwoon (Our Father)" and "I Asked for Love", she drops an octave and sounds a hundred years old, hitting deep notes with a command suggestive of Diamanda Galas' virtuosity. "Elegy" is the other end of the tonal spectrum, as Gerrard voices the swooning, more modern and almost sentimental ballad with her clarion alto. Sometimes it's almost hard to believe how well-suited her instrument is for this kind of music. She was born into it.
Because ethereal vocal music from ancient sources has been a fad a few different times over the last 15 years, Immortal Memory can at first listen feel a tad familiar. Those who recoil at the very thought of Enya, for example, might find this album rough going. Upon closer inspection, though, Immortal Memory reveals itself to be among the best of its kind. These two composers have a dangerously intuitive grasp of the relationship between sound and emotion. If, like me, you have a weakness for crushing gothic sadness with a symphonic bent, it's as if Gerrard and Cassidy have The Bomb and we're dependent on their benevolence. Immortal Memory is a slow, gradually unfolding album at the apex of melodrama, constantly one mislaid note from being "too depressing" to pull out in any but the most desperate moments. Fortunately, it never quite crosses that line; befitting any art derived from the sacred, rays of light find their way into dark corners.
