Seven That Spells – The Death And Resurrection Of Krautrock: IO

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Love the way Seven That Spells storm at you in corrugations of drum and hyperactive fret fingers on the second instalment of their Death And Resurrection Of Krautrock albums, staggered momentums that cool into some twilight rebound, a delight as bassy injections flirt with the drums and the guitar noodling some sweet Egyptian-strung ode.

Far from the kraut-worshipping you’d at first expect, IO dips nicely into some eastern European chants, like a male Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares chased by the gnostic fox, the surrounding instruments stoking an elaborate Circle-esque pyre of mysticism, its rhythmic core holding you in its spell. It brings to mind those Master Musicians of Bukkake as the shrinking spaces fall into a delicious insect-filled pavilion, sitar shapes echoing the wavering grass. An interesting detour to the feast yet to come, one that starts on space-slitting booms of percussion, gradually reimbursing you with those sweet swirling frets. A Yiddish-like burn hopping with infectious percussion, the guitar heroics bending palette knives of chord, conspiring with the bounding bass. Brilliant directives chewing a chantry that blends nicely into an avalanching, all-consuming vibe replete with glinting razors.

A sensation later splashed all over “Burning Blood’, after a short interlude of piano, a song that keeps its cards close to its chest, playing things deceptively proggy on a staggering momentum with some indulgent Kawabata-like ascensions before flooring you with a headlong lock-groove drilling, a sizzling rollercoaster of energy. An overdriven burn melding psychedelically into the beeping repeats of a telephone’s ringtone, then the whole shebang drifting off on lighter polyphonic currents that finally ditches its backing for a ghostly zero gravity drift into the blackening cosmos.

-Michael Rodham-Heaps-