Fire! – Testament

Rune Grammofon

This is the three-piece Fire!‘s eighth album for Rune Grammofon and just in case the usual formula where the trio invites friends over to assist in the production of ever-more dramatic output has become too familiar, they have turned their back on all that. Instead, they headed for Illinois and spent two days with Steve Albini paring the essence of the sound back to sax, bass and drums and allowing rhythmic sturdiness as a framework for new adventures.

Over forty minutes and five tracks, the trio strip things down to what drew them together in the first place, and the simplicity of the bass and the portentous percussive procession lend weight to the sax that smears the boundaries. The elemental rhythm makes the skyscraping baritone all the more intense, with a gradual build in intensity that encourages the sax to further bursts of outrage.

They are like three sides of a triangle: without one the others would collapse and that is what makes the trio of which Fire! is definitely the power variety the ultimate in musical purity. Leaden bass playing three notes on “The Dark Inside Of Cabbage” is beyond simple, Andreas Werlin‘s torpid percussive stutter replete with hi-hat slowing the heart rate. The sax is a lonesome moan and you sense time ticking away as the groove starts to misfire slightly, causing Mats Gustafsson to react viciously, desperate to pull it back in line.

It is a glitch in time like another view that echoes further in the abstract drum workout of “Four Ways Of Dealing With One Way”. Johan Berthling‘s mournful bass figure and slow sax off set the rhythmic energy and the dichotomy between the two is ace. Considering the simple approach, each of the pieces has a very different feel; the harsh percussive clatter of “Running Bison. Breathing Entity. Sleeping Reality” reacts adversely to the smoky growl of the sax, while the bass keeps absolute control, a UN peacekeeper with hands totally full of a tight-lipped battle of wills that erupts out of the obsessive structure with unbridled blasts of joy.

The range of sounds that Mats can coax from the instrument are phenomenal, and the final piece has two minutes of breathy blasts and angry dog expulsions, eructations that evoke an ancient creature woken from much needed slumber. Fantastic yet abstract, it struggles to gain momentum and feels bleary-eyed, too early with a long slow trudge ahead. An air of resignation that is slowly shaken, bass tiptoeing, drums slipping and cymbals dissolving, a visceral scream then a dedicated and ponderous descent, all the while becoming subsumed by a frozen white-out until all that is left are snowy bootprints and the feeling of icy breath held.

Thankfully, Steve Albini has done his usual hands-off act and the clarity of the trio shines through. Where they go from here, who knows; but on the strength of this Testament, it will certainly be unmissable. Long may they reign.

-Mr Olivetti-