Fabrik – Impermanence

Fabrik

Birmingham’s Fabrik are releasing their second album of rolling, experiential grooves on the back of a previous track, “Black Lake”, being picked up for use as a podcast theme in the States. Via stateside crowdfunding, they have put together a physical release for this album that is packed full of slinky vibes and evocative soundscapes, twisting around the beguiling vocals of singer Hayley Trower.

There is mention made of similarities to Portishead or Massive Attack, but where they tended to deal in lyrical obfuscation, Hayley is forthright in her approach, drawing the listener in to her experiences as the band builds a head of steam behind her. The album does open with a trip-hop kind of rhythm, but the trumpet loop and arch vocal delivery overshadow that; and as the story unfolds, so a reggae-influenced guitar accompanies the vibrato-edged shimmer.

The trumpet is hypnotic and the gauzey feel adds to the sense of remove which the band continues on “Powder”. The shuffling drumbeat, the surprisingly jagged guitar scrapes, another persona for Hayley; the band manages to shuffle things around and there is a feel of that kind of mystique that Lana Del Rey manages to instil. To mix things up, there is a Suicide feel to the title track’s motif of romantic hopelessness, and it is full of space and texture.

Where the band succeeds is in the ability to transport the listener, helping to inhabit with Hayley the situations in which she finds herself. Her battle with addiction on “Demoness” is compelling and the production of the track is quite soft, as if cocooning her in a safety blanket. There are points where I am reminded of Natasha Khan‘s vocals, and also of sadly missed nineties singer Raissa in the gentler moments, particularly on the subtle rain of “Forest Fires” and the effortlessly beguiling “Drenched”, with its mariachi-like trumpet and wordless vocal refrain. It is a beautiful pairing.

There are big, splashy drums on “Lioness” with the sinuous voice curling around the slow-motion rhythm, and there are hints of influences here and there; but really, Fabrik do manage to just sound like themselves. There is more tension on “JUNGL”, with its synth-like pistons and locomotive beat, flecked with indeterminate sounds. The music is searching, questioning in dark corners and gives the feel of driving headlong into a jungle, flailing around for the vice which is high up in the canopy, drifting and drawing. There is a German feel to the shimmering keys on “Everest” and the circular piano motif and skipping rhythm are a charm. Our misuse of the world is put into stark relief here, and shows that the band is not afraid to hold a mirror up to the world as well as to themselves.

There is cello on the ballad-like “Medicate”, which is a great change of pace, with the voice ululating and fluid; and as they seep into the final track, the sparse and spiky, Portishead like “Hinterland” with its plethora of disparate textures and found voices, you feel the band drifting, evaporating into the aether and leaving behind a feeling of satisfaction and wanting just a little bit more.

Impermanence is a lovely production that takes the listener on a long, dramatic journey, scaling peaks and crossing valleys before delivering you home just a little bit changed.

-Mr Olivetti-