The sounds of post-rock have always gone hand in hand with vast landscapes, sunsets (or sunrises) and snowy covered moorlands. It also has gotten a bitof bad cred as of late as “new age music for thirty somethings”. Granted, there’s probably a few who fit the bill, but in the case of Capillaries, their sounds are aggressive enough to keep you on your toes, without ever actually stepping and crunching them into compound fractures.
In fact, this EP, called Into the history of light could very well fit in the “vast landscapes” category but with an extra factor in it: a road trip. Or any type of travel. One of those moments when you simply hop into a car and ride around, aimlessly, with just a jacket calling shotgun and a blood-orange sky lingering over the early February scenery.
Every trip seems to take longer at the beginning. You might have been without driving for a while, so getting those little tricks of the old car take some time getting used to it, but soon enough the old car (let’s say it’s a Maverick ’cause they were awesome and I never had one) stopped stuttering and finally got you into that old road by the old neighbourhood where you grew up. Memories of 10, 20 years fly by and although a tear wants to be shed, you know the only way out is through (‘The history of light’). Even if it takes you eight minutes to drive away, you will feel better afterwards.
The highway (let’s say the 540, that one that goes near Fayetteville, Arkansas) welcomes you, with its busy traffic and greyish hues that contrast with the late winter skies. A slow, relaxed drive can sometimes get stressful if you’re cutoff by a couple of dickheads, but again, you keep going on, sweat the small stuff and bang your head while remembering a killer riff you never managed to play in that old dusty guitar you abandoned in the closet (‘Metals of Callisto’ – awesome last third).
An old mall that’s now abandoned, the victim of an economical depression. Old stores you liked, taped shut, with cardboards and driftwood covering the once beautiful windows. The once bright memories are now gone and even if the place is in a state of decay, you can still remember the memories of summer loves and playing hooky. It’s another emotional rush and you still have no words to describe them, so, fuck it, drive a few ovals in the parking lot with the overgrowing weeds, maybe scare a few hobos and go back to the highway. ‘Summit’ is still blasting in the stereo, any memory relived is now again back where it belongs (waving goodbye to the tune of ‘Lumen’).
The ride ends. It always ends. A stop in the greasy diner you used to loiter with your cohorts, now a low-lit joint for truckers too dozed up to even notice you or the shiner-sporting waitress. Food still rules, but the trip down memory lane, has to end. It’s the dead of night and a few nesh stars are in the sky. It’s a quiet drive back home, with a couple of headlights playing the role of will-o-wisps. A few memories still try to breakthrough and drag you back, but it’s the end of the day, you indulged but acknowledge that the past is dead and buried and the only way to truly leave it behind is to step on it. You leave the car, get to your ‘Extraction point’ and maybe you won’t see that car again, maybe you will, but with time, it won’t hurt anymore.
So, yeah, Capillaries. Cinematic post-rock. 6 tracks with calm-build up-continuous explosion and a monumental ending (‘Extraction point’, again, kudos). Check Into the history of life out if you want your post rock loud and smouldering.