Breaking up was the best thing Sleep ever did. Sure, they made Jerusalem, a stoner metal masterpiece that was basically an hour of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" riff. But the record was a logical limit-- how much more droning and Sabbath-esque could a band get? When the band split up in the late 1990s, it birthed two behemoths: Guitarist Matt Pike formed High on Fire, while bassist Al Cisneros and drummer Chris Hakius formed Om. High on Fire's mixture of Motörhead and Black Sabbath has found considerable success, and Om's drums-bass-vocals shtick has also garnered a large following. The two bands are as if Sleep separated into its constituent elements: High on Fire continue (and accelerate) Sleep's midrange roar, while Om explore Sleep's mantra-like low end.
Since Om are a duo, Hakius' departure last year caused a stir. His metronomic, cymbal-heavy style was literally half of Om's sound. Many fretted over the choice of Grails' Emil Amos as his replacement. Amos' style is busier, and at first seemed like a poor fit for Om's spareness-- 15-minute head-nodders don't need fills clattering away in the back.
However, Amos has turned out to fit right in. His playing is often Hakius-like, with a ride cymbal ticking away to mark time. "Cremation Ghat I" is more his own, with a relatively uptempo groove and hand claps. With slinky bass lines, the track isn't that far off from the Folk Implosion's "Natural One"; however, as an instrumental around three minutes long, it seems like a throwaway. In general, the album is sequenced awkwardly. The first two tracks have vocals and are around 19 and seven minutes long, respectively. Closing out the album is the instrumental two-part "Cremation Ghat" suite, which is about eight minutes long. It feels more like a coda than a song.
That's too bad, as it's the most interesting section of the record. Not only is the first part more lively than Om's typical lope, but both parts feature tamboura. This is a mixed blessing. On one hand, it adds color to Om's sound. On the other hand, Om did just fine before without additional coloration. Part of the band's appeal has been its ability to utilize its few elements. Additionally, the choice of an Indian instrument to accompany Cisneros' hippy-dippy lyrics ("Descends supine grace of the luminant/ Attunes to access light of celestial form") is too obvious. (The Beatles' dabbling with Indian instrumentation comes to mind.) What was once an implied spirituality, drawn out through trance-like repetition, has become spoon-fed. Perhaps this evolution was inevitable: Like Sleep, Om likely could mine their minimalism only for so long.
