Danish artist Emil Brahe started the solo-outlet Sol after the split of Forbandet, and he has been quite productive under this moniker. For the second time now, he releases an album under protection of the black wings of UK-based Cold Spring Records. Emil wrote and recorded all material himself, and the mastering was done, in tradition of this English label, at the Cage Studio by Martin Bowes – think: Moloch, Khost, Tunnels Of Ah, Iron Fist Of The Sun, Skullflower a. o. Oh yes, the vocal parts have been provided by Die Weisse Rose’s Thomas Bøjden.
About each album did differ from any other, and Where Suns Come To Die too is once again another chapter within Sol’s huge curriculum vitae. The album consists of four compositions, which do have a total running time of thirty six minutes. The album starts with This Bitter Earth, which opens with a minimal introduction, based on a vocal speech (by Thomas) and a droning-industrial background sound. It takes almost three minutes, but then the whole gets nastier, with at first an apocalyptic bombast showing up, which slowly / suddenly turns towards rather malignant-mesmerizing spheres of asphyxiating sonic terror. The last minutes are of the transcendental-hypnotic kind, with, as far as I am thinking, quite some melodies based on violin and cello. I Surrender The Soil (which clocks ten minutes of length) is much colder, dustier, emptier in atmosphere, for this composition rather focuses on a minimally droning approach, yet with a specific martial and apocalyptic touch of obscurity and discomfort. Spontaneously Cyclic Law’s roster comes to mind, but that might be a subjective result of my not-that-secret passion for that label. Yet in any case this composition too is quite disturbing, with a truly suffocative and ominous finale. Hymn, the third track, is the only piece lasting for less than five minutes, but it sort of summons the essence of Sol’s raison d’être, with a structure that both relies on tradition, as well on timelessness. This track is as hypnotic as it is oppressive, and therefore an example of this genre. The fourth and last track, The Grinding Wheels Of Time, is the most integer and calm, yet at the same time chilliest and saddest piece on Where Suns Come To Die (and the longest; over thirteen minutes of length). Field drones and mesmerizing sound collages characterize the intense integrity (what a contradictio in terminis, I admit…), with those sinful vocals, the dissonant and anti-traditional instrumental chords, and the minimally droning ambient spheres covering the whole in some form of inner suppression, self-anger, bitterness and imperturbability.
Once again Sol deliver an album that stands far away from conformism, and once again it truly differs from anything else in the past. But in any case the typifying and characteristic trademark of Emil’s creativity shines through the final result. Therefor…