BIG|BRAVE sound like no other band signed to Southern Lord, but they somehow fit right in. On paper, at least, their sound—a churning, slo-mo experimental metal that revolves around squalling feedback and the dynamics of tension and release—lies smack in the comfort zone of the label that has brought us SunnO))), Earth, Boris, et al. But this Montreal trio is rich with idiosyncrasies. They’ve got no bass guitar, to begin with; those downtuned waves of sludge typically stream from a pair of six-strings. There’s that sense of spaciousness and pause—the chasms of silence that open up as riffs crumble and fall away, leaving listeners gasping and spinning their arms at the edge of a sheer face. And then there are frontwoman Robin Wattie’s clear, piercing vocals, which occupy an emotional zone right at the point between ecstasy and abject despair.
BIG|BRAVE might be a metal band, but perhaps they are better understood as a Montreal band. Their second album, 2015’s Au De La—the one picked up for release by Southern Lord after they mailed it, unsolicited, to label boss Greg Anderson—was recorded in the city’s analog recording studio Hotel2Tango by Efrim Menuck, of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and this, their third long-player, was produced in the same location by another Constellation mainstay, Radwan Ghazi Moumneh, of Jerusalem in My Heart.
These relationships feel key; the Constellation bands’ characteristic doomed grace runs throughout Ardor. The opening “Sound” commences as a trudging march, with overdriven guitars howling their protest to an uncaring sky, and violin (courtesy of Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra’s Jessica Moss) sawing out keening tones somewhere at the heart of the clamour. Another Montreal mainstay, GY!BE founder and Hotel2Tango co-owner Thierry Amar, adds contrabass to two of the album’s three tracks. BIG|BRAVE’s sense of ebb and flow has clear parallels with Godspeed’s apocalyptic post-rock. With each of the album’s songs stretching to over 10 minutes in length, there is plenty of time for motifs to be established, abandoned to wither and die, and then revived and reprised with terrific force.
In places, Ardor is an album of quiet restraint. The second of the three tracks, “Lull,” gives most of its running time to moody slowcore rumination, with peals of guitar feedback snaking in gradually as the track gains weight. Other moments suggest an affinity for the brutal excesses of noise rock and no wave. There are echoes of Swans in the mantra-like repetitions of “Sound” and “Borer,” their clanging riffs cast out in the direction of the horizon. Meanwhile, Wattie’s siren-like vocals vacillate between imploring sensuality, raw self-flagellation, and blank affect in a way that’s reminiscent of Lydia Lunch. Lunch’s music was often jagged like razorblades, though, while BIG|BRAVE are big and oceanic, their music flowing and crashing like waves.
For all these points of comparison, Ardor feels like an album primarily powered by the instincts of its players. BIG|BRAVE started out as a duo playing minimalist folk music and gradually got louder as they learned to play their amplifiers, harnessing the chaotic possibilities of feedback to sculpt and shape their sound. Their lyrics—like a chant on “Borer,” “I am immune/And I am protected”—have an abstract quality, as if dredged up from some half-remembered dream. “A lot of unexplainable feeling goes into our songwriting and live performance,” guitarist Mathieu Bernard Ball told The Quietus. “And I believe that that's what people connect with. All truth, no lies.” Perhaps that’s why Ardor ultimately feels emotionally coherent but tricky to categorize. BIG|BRAVE are the sound of the raw unconscious, turned up loud.
