Reviews
Boards of Canada ‘Tomorrow’s Harvest’
Jack Mckeever. Introducing Editor There has been much made recently (and perhaps with good reason) of the post- apocalyptic vision. TV shows like The Walking Dead and the spookily beautiful Les Revenants have both alluded to the otherworldly, inexplicable mystique in their own artistic way. It’s mostly through the use of imagery of course, of visual activity and set pieces. As a musical outlet, Scottish duo Boards of Canada enjoy no such luxury, and thus they are (in a suitably post- apocalyptic way) left to their own devices to craft their own distinct perception of what the Earth may be like post- it’s end. As always on this, their third album “Tomorrow’s Harvest” (and their first since 2004), Boards of Canada have also deprived themselves the luxury of words, owing any emotional evolutions to the use of music itself. The idea in this case is to create soundscapes that transcend words, and this modus operandi revolves around manipulation of both the unsettling and the gorgeous in equal measure. Opener “Gemini” sets the tone of the album in stone, half glacial post- apocalyptica envisioned by rising bleep arpeggios, half unnerving, lowrumbling synth grates. “Reach for the Dead” is more serene, nuanced layers of thick, lush synths and a hazy crackle. Equally migrating towards this trajectory is the heavenly 6 and a half minutes of
“Jacquard Causeway”, on which a clunking beat is foreshadowed by immersive, cyclical layers and textures. “New Seeds” offers some reprise towards the final throes of the album, dealing in epic, jarringly bubbly keys rotations which evolve into an understated by quietly triumphant wall of sound before ending on soft chamber beeps. Of course, the end of the world is indeed a strikingly unnerving concept, and this is catered for too in abundance on “Tomorrow’s Harvest.” “White Cyclosa” marries disconcerting helicopter propeller samples with a sinister underbelly and an eerie, woozy lead melody, like a search party rooting around in rubble without much hope. “Collapse” feels like you’re watching the Earth cave in on itself from space, bleary eyed and helpless, but it’s somehow soothing with its whooshes of background wind and calm electronic patter. They save the most unsettling of all for last though in the shape of “Semena Mertvykh”, a spine- chilling drum-less hum of horror movie score- esque tone, ending the album on a bleak marker. There are times when “Tomorrow’s Harvest” doesn’t quite reach the heights it aims to, like on the wishy- washy, dream- like “Cold Earth” or the spiralling textures of “Split Your Infinities.” But for the most part, the album’s fragility and musical sensitivity does enough to create a pretty solid landscape of what the future of the Earth may behold, and even though it still seems distant, it hits a nerve frighteningly close to home.