Your pretentiousness meter should admittedly be swinging toward the far right. Alchemic Heart is the first readily available stateside release from Vampillia, an Osaka, Japan-based 11-piece that features several vocalists, violinists, and guitarists, plus piano, turntables, and bass. As if the band name weren't laughable enough, they also call themselves a "brutal orchestra," and that's still just the start. "Sea", the first of the album's dual 24-minute tracks, features former Swans vocalist Jarboe intoning words of wisdom about inhaling darkness and exhaling light and peace. Alchemic Heart's second side, predictably called "Land", features Japanese noise lord Merzbow. Both guests have added their names to ham-handed collaborations in the past. With Godspeed You! Black Emperor again on the road, how many ensembles with sociopolitical messages and half-hour attention spans do we really need?
We at least need Vampillia, especially here. Somehow, the band avoids nearly all of its potential pitfalls, navigating both of these marathons with agility and strength. "Sea" is at first an exercise in delicacy and restraint, the massive ensemble building slowly through the sort of deep instrumental breaths recognizable from Bang on a Can's interpretation of Brian Eno's Music For Airports. The additional layers come steadily, with a harmonic electric guitar riff sliding between the orchestra's ebbs and light percussion serving only to make each of those movements more encompassing. Jarboe's steely whisper sits inside the music, demanding attention without stealing it. The first nine minutes or so generate tension, while the last 14 are a slow, menacing release. Assisted by Brooklyn noise outfit Inswarm, Vampillia writhe through a wall of sound, with violins trilling, guitars grinding, and voices bending and clipping. It's as if the orchestra is trying to recreate the static and squall of early black metal-- simply stretched and compressed to sound even more malevolent. Jarboe is eventually left in sudden silence, repeating her mantras with resolve. The conclusion, like the track itself, is melodramatic, but it feels warranted, its impact real.
Despite a similar length, exploration of peak noise, and quiet dénouement, "Land" takes a much different approach from one point to another. The graceful cycles of the strings on the first piece are swapped for stunted, staggered phrases here, made even more disorienting by Merzbow's bursts of alien noise. "Land" is almost immediately loud, each layer occasionally syncing into enormous swells of sound. Again, though, Vampillia quiet down as the track nears its 10-minute mark, with little pockets of Keith Jarrett-like piano splashing through an electronic haze. "Land" takes its time to rebuild, but when it does, the sound suggests that these dozen or so musicians are trying to control chaos. Merzbow's shards of electricity don't overrun the orchestra; instead, he pulls them forward, making the violins more dramatic and each changing piano chord more momentous. The music hits its crest with about four minutes left, and the sound is infernal. Voices and strings and electronic bursts collide constantly. It's terrifying, exhilarating, and intricate.
This sort of music is easy to get wrong, to make too maudlin or too context-dependent. From the hit-and-miss guests to the ambitious two-tracks, two-sides format, Vampillia have a lot stacked against them on Alchemic Heart. Both of these pieces demand and deliver, though, using high drama to lubricate urgent compositions.
