Ogives
La Mémoire des Orages
BELGIUM SUB ROSA RECORDS SRV 544 CD / 2 x L.P. (2023)
With sleeve art reminiscent of a Victorian gentleman scholar’s favourite leather-bound tome and, with a group name culled from a composition penned by proto-ambient guru Erik Satie, one’s investigations don’t need to be on a forensic level to expect to find classical tropes emerging from this plush double vinyl set. And emerge they do. But… band info via the net’s ever widening reach is unfortunately less forthcoming. What I can glean in a join-the-dots fashion is that this octet hail from Liège in the eastern region of Belgium and has, no doubt, a lot of conservatoire grounding within its ranks. This octet was formed by Russian emigre Pavel Tchikov (bass/vox/principal songwriter) and are want to employ compositional techniques last heard in classical and early music, alongside certain shades of the baroque and the byzantine. The opening “Patience” suite sees this amalgam of stylistic devices uncoil slowly with languorous mid-tempo work-outs suffused with dark, velvety texturing, involving church bells, Gregorian chants and relentless chugging riffs (c/o Manu Herion) which are then suddenly squashed by even more strident caroling from a six-strong choir.
Eschewing their native tongue for a while, we’re confronted by the “Mighty Pumpkin” (reminding me of the Charlie Brown comic strip Peanuts for some strange reason). …”I once had a chicken, a shiny rat and a unicorn…” appear to be lyrics chosen primarily for the sound of the words themselves, instead of pursuing a logical flow (?). My initial misgivings re. the cute ‘n’ quirky title were soon cast aside when the track compares favourably to the likes of, say, Nick Mason’s long lost proteges Chimera or to a few pages torn from the Comus songbook.
Distorted chordage, chaotic blow-outs and wafting, atmospheric passages are part and parcel of Ogives’ dusky sound world, much like Neubaten, Crimso, Swans and Godspeed, who are cited as band influences. But it has to be said that the extraordinarily doleful trombone blasts of Manu Herion suggests that the eight-piece possesses enough of an individual voice to stands out within the dark post-rock/neo-prog milieu. Another expert mix from the desk of Steve Albini’s “Electrical Audi Studios”, makes this self-assured debut the best slice of Belgian vinyl since the days when Univers Zero first settled on Planet Zeuhl.