If you place any faith in the Fork at all, if you give any credence to our pretentious ramblings, if you've ever picked up a record because we told you to; then please, dear readers, do yourself a favor. Stop reading this review now and tear yourself away from that Spoon album. Then, buy/burn/download/steal/or otherwise get hold of a copy of the Shalabi Effect's The Trial of St-Orange. Go listen and then come back. Because if you don't, if you read this review before you hear the album, it'll spoil all the surprises.
Yes, that's right, oh wearied music listener: surprises! The unexpected! When was the last time you heard an album that genuinely surprised you again and again? When was the last time you threw an album on in the background, only to find yourself torn from wherever your attention was supposed to be focused because the music was doing things you absolutely did not expect it to? Because this is what happened to my jaded ass, and I haven't been happier in ages. Not only does the Shalabi Effect surprise upon its virgin spin, it continues to reveal new elements with each consecutive listen. But still, that initial St. Orange session is a wonderful experience. And I'd rather not rob anyone of it. But alas, a job is a job, so for better or worse, here goes:
A primal feel is established from the disc's opening moments. An acoustic guitar is plucked as faint percussion falls like raindrops over ubiquitous natural field recordings-- bird songs, forest sounds, etc.-- placed at far intervals. Periodic gong soundings emerge. At first, the metal is allowed to resonate in a mostly empty space, but soon the field recordings grow far less distant.
As we move into the second track, "Sister Sleep" (there are only three movements here, but there are seven individual tracks), the field recordings grow less sparse, and much louder. These sounds dominate the mix, effects are added, and the results are placed into loops. Soon, the random percussion falls into line like soldiers at attention. Rapid-fire hand-percussion serves as a counterpoint for the electronic sounds and fragmented guitar that creep slowly from the soundworld like the legs on one of those bugs that show up on humid days in basements and garden apartments. Thus begins a slow transformation from sparse, yet identifiable sounds into all-encompassing ethereal noise. It's easy to miss the certain subtleties in this disc the first time through-- you don't realize what you've heard until it mutates into something different.
This is best exemplified on the next track, "Mr. Titz (The Revelator)"-- and if you were wondering why this album isn't rated a solid 10.0, look no further than that title-- when the heavenly noise falls out entirely, leaving behind nothing but a quick, repeating bassline. There's a very brief vocal sample, kicking off a race between Will Eizlini's North Indian hand percussion and Sam Shalabi's frantically repeated guitar part. All the while, electronics float about, growing more comfortable with the idea of structure every minute. But the listener doesn't realize the development of the electronics part until the song transforms altogether into a straightforward drum machine roll, taking the movement in a whole new direction.
I could gladly go on. I could write thousands of words, in hope that my meager keyboard could replicate the intricacies of The Trial of St-Orange, the way gently chimed bells dance with electric static as faint memories of guitar melodies past linger over a background of found sound in "A Glow in the Dark." Or the way that very guitar part will keep repeating, adding a new nuance each go round until what was once a background element has taken the lead. To describe every subtle nuance on this album, every last unpredictable twist and turn of this music would be as impossible as it would be futile. This is the sort of music that defies description. Because even if you were to say that the Shalabi Effect fuses elements of Canada's burgeoning experimental electronics/musique concrète with psychedelic rock structure and North Indian harmonics, you'd still be failing to account for the ambient drones that layer so many moments or the tendency to place sparse AMM-style tinkering in the dark spots between would-be crescendos.
And I did say "would-be." Much like that of fellow Montreal scenesters Godspeed You Black Emperor!, the Shalabi Effect's music is always building towards something. GYBE! takes the obvious way out, usually culminating in a grand cinematic blast. Like a Hollywood action movie, you enjoy it despite its predictability. The Shalabi Effect, though, is the Amelie to Godspeed's Lord of the Rings, veering off on an unexpected path each time it reaches the finale.
Which is why I'm hoping you heeded my advice, why I'm hoping that if you've made it this far into the review, you've already heard The Trial of St-Orange. Because, much like an intercontinental cruise or (more likely, given the Pitchfork demographic) a good road trip with a few close friends in a rusty old Chrysler, the payoff here comes not in the arrival, but in the trip itself. A review of an action movie won't ruin anything, because anyone who's seen a couple of them is likely to predict the entire plot before the popcorn's gone. But the Shalabi Effect isn't just another rehashing of pop-culture cliches. They're as unpredictable and original as can be. And in today's lukewarm, microwavable, prepackaged culture, that's the biggest surprise of them all.
