Implodes
Black Earth
Boomkat Product Review:
The dark side has never been more in vogue and heavily populated than it is right now, and you could be forgiven for wondering if another album with a title like Black Earth is something you really need in your life. But take it from us: there’s real weight and authenticity to Implodes' invocation of evil and occluded energies. Hailing from Chicago, it's difficult not too see them as part of the city's post-rock lineage, and they share that scene’s godfathers’ rare ability to harness and corral seething, raging guitar noise into deeply textured and nuanced walls of sound. On the face of it, their music can seem almost ambient, but turn up the volume and you’ll realize just how oppressive and crushing it is. The band offer their own definition of the Black Earth: “Black Earth is a haunted and magical place. There’s an old barn there with many rooms and a silo that’s filled with dead insects. Outside there’s a big wood pile filled with spider webs that probably has black widows living in it. There are mysterious plants growing everywhere. At night, when the air is crisp and clean, you can lie on your back by the fire and look up at the stars and listen to the animals and insects making their music.” Sounds like hell to us, but whatever, you can’t argue with the results. With its reverb-soaked vocals and sleigh bell-slinging rhythm, 'Marker' recalls recent darkwave/gothic pop fare from Tropic of Cancer, The Soft Moon and Belong, while the incantatory ‘Screech Owl’ and beautifully overdriven ‘Meadowsland’ could almost be a more bucolic-minded Sonic Youth. Some of the album's finest moments are drumless, clock-melting ambient exercises that summon GAS as much as Godspeed, tracks which seem to have no beginning and no end, but manage to grip you throughout. 'Experiential Report', all yearning, cyclical acoustic riffage, sounds like Emeralds’ Mark McGuire having a nasty trip, and 'Hands On The Rail's mumbled vocals and achy guitar drones exist in the shadows of Dylan Carlson’s Earth. Black Earth is custom built for all the drugstore cowboys and cowgirls among you, and well worth plunging into.
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Boomkat Product Review:
The dark side has never been more in vogue and heavily populated than it is right now, and you could be forgiven for wondering if another album with a title like Black Earth is something you really need in your life. But take it from us: there’s real weight and authenticity to Implodes' invocation of evil and occluded energies. Hailing from Chicago, it's difficult not too see them as part of the city's post-rock lineage, and they share that scene’s godfathers’ rare ability to harness and corral seething, raging guitar noise into deeply textured and nuanced walls of sound. On the face of it, their music can seem almost ambient, but turn up the volume and you’ll realize just how oppressive and crushing it is. The band offer their own definition of the Black Earth: “Black Earth is a haunted and magical place. There’s an old barn there with many rooms and a silo that’s filled with dead insects. Outside there’s a big wood pile filled with spider webs that probably has black widows living in it. There are mysterious plants growing everywhere. At night, when the air is crisp and clean, you can lie on your back by the fire and look up at the stars and listen to the animals and insects making their music.” Sounds like hell to us, but whatever, you can’t argue with the results. With its reverb-soaked vocals and sleigh bell-slinging rhythm, 'Marker' recalls recent darkwave/gothic pop fare from Tropic of Cancer, The Soft Moon and Belong, while the incantatory ‘Screech Owl’ and beautifully overdriven ‘Meadowsland’ could almost be a more bucolic-minded Sonic Youth. Some of the album's finest moments are drumless, clock-melting ambient exercises that summon GAS as much as Godspeed, tracks which seem to have no beginning and no end, but manage to grip you throughout. 'Experiential Report', all yearning, cyclical acoustic riffage, sounds like Emeralds’ Mark McGuire having a nasty trip, and 'Hands On The Rail's mumbled vocals and achy guitar drones exist in the shadows of Dylan Carlson’s Earth. Black Earth is custom built for all the drugstore cowboys and cowgirls among you, and well worth plunging into.
Boomkat Product Review:
The dark side has never been more in vogue and heavily populated than it is right now, and you could be forgiven for wondering if another album with a title like Black Earth is something you really need in your life. But take it from us: there’s real weight and authenticity to Implodes' invocation of evil and occluded energies. Hailing from Chicago, it's difficult not too see them as part of the city's post-rock lineage, and they share that scene’s godfathers’ rare ability to harness and corral seething, raging guitar noise into deeply textured and nuanced walls of sound. On the face of it, their music can seem almost ambient, but turn up the volume and you’ll realize just how oppressive and crushing it is. The band offer their own definition of the Black Earth: “Black Earth is a haunted and magical place. There’s an old barn there with many rooms and a silo that’s filled with dead insects. Outside there’s a big wood pile filled with spider webs that probably has black widows living in it. There are mysterious plants growing everywhere. At night, when the air is crisp and clean, you can lie on your back by the fire and look up at the stars and listen to the animals and insects making their music.” Sounds like hell to us, but whatever, you can’t argue with the results. With its reverb-soaked vocals and sleigh bell-slinging rhythm, 'Marker' recalls recent darkwave/gothic pop fare from Tropic of Cancer, The Soft Moon and Belong, while the incantatory ‘Screech Owl’ and beautifully overdriven ‘Meadowsland’ could almost be a more bucolic-minded Sonic Youth. Some of the album's finest moments are drumless, clock-melting ambient exercises that summon GAS as much as Godspeed, tracks which seem to have no beginning and no end, but manage to grip you throughout. 'Experiential Report', all yearning, cyclical acoustic riffage, sounds like Emeralds’ Mark McGuire having a nasty trip, and 'Hands On The Rail's mumbled vocals and achy guitar drones exist in the shadows of Dylan Carlson’s Earth. Black Earth is custom built for all the drugstore cowboys and cowgirls among you, and well worth plunging into.
Out of Stock
Boomkat Product Review:
The dark side has never been more in vogue and heavily populated than it is right now, and you could be forgiven for wondering if another album with a title like Black Earth is something you really need in your life. But take it from us: there’s real weight and authenticity to Implodes' invocation of evil and occluded energies. Hailing from Chicago, it's difficult not too see them as part of the city's post-rock lineage, and they share that scene’s godfathers’ rare ability to harness and corral seething, raging guitar noise into deeply textured and nuanced walls of sound. On the face of it, their music can seem almost ambient, but turn up the volume and you’ll realize just how oppressive and crushing it is. The band offer their own definition of the Black Earth: “Black Earth is a haunted and magical place. There’s an old barn there with many rooms and a silo that’s filled with dead insects. Outside there’s a big wood pile filled with spider webs that probably has black widows living in it. There are mysterious plants growing everywhere. At night, when the air is crisp and clean, you can lie on your back by the fire and look up at the stars and listen to the animals and insects making their music.” Sounds like hell to us, but whatever, you can’t argue with the results. With its reverb-soaked vocals and sleigh bell-slinging rhythm, 'Marker' recalls recent darkwave/gothic pop fare from Tropic of Cancer, The Soft Moon and Belong, while the incantatory ‘Screech Owl’ and beautifully overdriven ‘Meadowsland’ could almost be a more bucolic-minded Sonic Youth. Some of the album's finest moments are drumless, clock-melting ambient exercises that summon GAS as much as Godspeed, tracks which seem to have no beginning and no end, but manage to grip you throughout. 'Experiential Report', all yearning, cyclical acoustic riffage, sounds like Emeralds’ Mark McGuire having a nasty trip, and 'Hands On The Rail's mumbled vocals and achy guitar drones exist in the shadows of Dylan Carlson’s Earth. Black Earth is custom built for all the drugstore cowboys and cowgirls among you, and well worth plunging into.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
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Boomkat Product Review:
The dark side has never been more in vogue and heavily populated than it is right now, and you could be forgiven for wondering if another album with a title like Black Earth is something you really need in your life. But take it from us: there’s real weight and authenticity to Implodes' invocation of evil and occluded energies. Hailing from Chicago, it's difficult not too see them as part of the city's post-rock lineage, and they share that scene’s godfathers’ rare ability to harness and corral seething, raging guitar noise into deeply textured and nuanced walls of sound. On the face of it, their music can seem almost ambient, but turn up the volume and you’ll realize just how oppressive and crushing it is. The band offer their own definition of the Black Earth: “Black Earth is a haunted and magical place. There’s an old barn there with many rooms and a silo that’s filled with dead insects. Outside there’s a big wood pile filled with spider webs that probably has black widows living in it. There are mysterious plants growing everywhere. At night, when the air is crisp and clean, you can lie on your back by the fire and look up at the stars and listen to the animals and insects making their music.” Sounds like hell to us, but whatever, you can’t argue with the results. With its reverb-soaked vocals and sleigh bell-slinging rhythm, 'Marker' recalls recent darkwave/gothic pop fare from Tropic of Cancer, The Soft Moon and Belong, while the incantatory ‘Screech Owl’ and beautifully overdriven ‘Meadowsland’ could almost be a more bucolic-minded Sonic Youth. Some of the album's finest moments are drumless, clock-melting ambient exercises that summon GAS as much as Godspeed, tracks which seem to have no beginning and no end, but manage to grip you throughout. 'Experiential Report', all yearning, cyclical acoustic riffage, sounds like Emeralds’ Mark McGuire having a nasty trip, and 'Hands On The Rail's mumbled vocals and achy guitar drones exist in the shadows of Dylan Carlson’s Earth. Black Earth is custom built for all the drugstore cowboys and cowgirls among you, and well worth plunging into.
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