Stefano Pilia and Massimo Pupillo ‎- Dark Night Mother

Consouling Sounds

Massimo Pupillo and Stefano Pillia are both doyens of the Italian underground scene and are serial collaborators. Here they merge their distinctive sounds with the aid of some female vocal assistance to produce an album of wonderful tones that, thanks to some exquisite production, just seems to seep from the speakers into the room and surround the listener in a gentle cocoon.

The songs are mainly guitar and drum pieces, with a subtle drone in the background lending some texture to the spare playing; but the deft manner in which the instruments are used and the unique properties of the guest vocalists mean that each track inhabits its own little world.

Opener “Dark Night Mother” features the dulcet tones of Alexandra Drewchin, AKA Eartheater, and the purity and enunciation of her words along with the soothing ebb and flow of the acoustic guitar seem to perch at the foot of your bed as a fluid bass drone eases into the background with obscure shadows. “You are the light of wisdom, taking away the confusion”, she trills as the music curls from the speakers, filling the room with half-dreamt feelings of comfort.

The droning, Eastern-style vocalising of Maestra Olivia Arebalo on “Weeshdeen” has a very different feel. There is a nasal quality here that doesn’t soothe, yet there is an ache to it that demands empathy. Ironically, the backing that the duo has chosen to perform here is that of a lullaby. The shuffling drums of Cristiano Calcagnile are reminiscent of Jim White, with the most delicate of cymbal brushes holding the hushed guitar in a warm embrace that is not too stifling. The track drifts and at times the vocal grows silent and then returns, but with the addition of what sounds like an insect squeaking and this does just enough to cause a bit of tension in the sound. Massimo and Stefano want to treat you, but I don’t think that they want to make it too easy. There has to be a little something that ensures that the track stays in your mind.

Twin guitars move cautiously around one another on “Orion Children”, strummed and struck in a series of sparkling explosions like tiny Catherine wheels as Sandra Canessa‘s vocal (a languid breath that soothes the beating heart) entwines itself around the American primitive-style sporadic guitar lines. There is economy of movement in the desert guitar and traps of “Black Moon Lilith”, and as the song progresses, so the tension builds. The shriek of train brakes is engulfed by the steamy hiss of a great locomotive, waiting patiently in a one-horse town, the people and dogs watching the pressure rise from under heavy eyelids. The dust and heat are almost palpable, and it is this attention to production detail that makes the album such an engrossing listen.

The campfire ritual of “Oxun” changes the mood again; this time, the distant, haunting vocals are courtesy of Lucinda Mahua, and feel as though they are coming from the treetops. Sandra Canessa beguiles us once again on penultimate track “Fatima Gate”, with a melancholy guitar run adding an aching intimacy to the whispered chant. By the time the final track arrives, the only one with a male vocal, this stunning combination of guitar, drums, drone and voice has worked its magic, and drawn us into a world that is gossamer light and thrilling, yet at times can ache with an unexpected depth. It is a world well worth visiting and you will want to again and again, because it feels as though it were constructed just for you.

-Mr Olivetti-