here men are born in the hands of time / a noose around the hopeful dreams of my mid-tone heart / those dreamlands burn in the heart of rhymes /halos linger around my arms / still embraced a face, a voice / intently as if it was mine / what you knew is nothing… an exploited view… just a photograph
I mentioned that I had stumbled across a couple of bands while I was in Budapest that had blown my mind like it hasn’t been blown for a while. Unfortunately, I left one of the disc’s in a friend’s computer which may mean I never see it or hear it again. But luckily, I carried Esclin Syndo back with me.
They were playing an old Ukrainian war ship, which lies docked in the Danube River. It’s not a small venue – Henry Rollins was speaking there a few weeks later; Sunn O))) had recently played there. But I had no idea what to expect. After downing a few beers and a strange drink called Unicum with a number of friendly Hungarians, and laughing hard at a left-over Depeche Mode wannabe band, still trying to maintain a misguided image of ‘rockstarness’, I stepped forward almost as soon as the opening sounds trickled out of the stage speakers.Within half an hour, I was won. And determined to find the album.
Esclin Syndo are apparently triphop. I wouldn’t agree. Rock-Electronica, maybe. But there’s too much hard rock pulsing through their veins. A five piece led by the intriguing Dalma Berger and Huba Ratkóci on vocals and guitars respectively are mesmerising to watch. Dalma’s vocals ring out like a strange mix between Skin (Skunk Anansie), Björk and Beth Gibbons – at times, gentle, forlorn, and misgiving, at others, furious, scathing, haunting. She is quite the incredible vocalist.
Likewise, the songs blend a mixture between gentle rock electronified by bass reverbs and synths slipping underneath through to a hard rock, Tool-influenced, riff heavy abrasiveness. (See Highways ‘You’re a Voyeur, a victim, a perfect circle…’ chorus.) The bass, drums and electronics drive the music onward, not in an industrial abrasion, but rather as a climactic culmination of complementary sound.
At first listen, admittedly through shitty computer speakers, I didn’t like the album. I didn’t feel it captured the power of Dalma’s vocals, nor the camraderic rivalry for frontman presence she seemed to hold with Huba. But since returning home to friendly Madrid, and embracing it on headphones, it continues to impress and grow on me. Lyrically, Dalma shows a grasp of English far superior to most native rock musicians. And musically, they have evolved a sound that, whilst demonstrative of their influences, is truly their own.
And the Folklore video is great!
I hope these sounds escape the East.
