It’s perhaps typical of the gung-ho Gallic approach to Black Metal that some of the most exotic forms of this embattled genre derive from France. On one hand, you have the musically ultra-progressive and philosophically zealous Deathspell Omega (either the saviour or soiler of the BM artform) and on the other you have Alcest, who are something altogether different.

Écailles de Lune isn’t a black metal album as such. Sonic alchemist and sole band member Neige has crafted a total immersion musical landscape that variously caresses and claws at your emotions playing out the magical narrative that’s utterly mesmerising. Écailles… could have easily have descended into sonic slush with its mix of mixing atmospheric Black Metal reminiscent of early Burzum, plaintive shoegaze, and post-rock, but somehow it all seems so natural together. Three genres deeply rooted in the pursuit of atmospherics, the soothing shoegaze is broken by dramatic and emotive BM passages while the post-rock elements offer a cinemascopic breadth. Not only does it work, it’s hard to imagine why no-one did this before.

Alcest will, in perpetuity, be bound to their pure BM beginnings, but with Écailles de Lune have produced a ‘black metal’ album that is neither particularly ‘black’ or even ‘metal’. In that respect it’s better compared to the other standout BM crossover release this year – Ludicra’s The Tenant which similarly plays acrobatics with the BM genre but to somewhat different effect.

Écailles de Lune is haunting but beautiful, exhilarating and soothing. The otherworldly atmosphere is only enhanced by the entirely French vocals that make, for a non-French speaking listener (well, I can order a cup of coffee and ask for directions in French, themes that don’t feature particularly highly in this narrative!) this a purely musical experience, which doesn’t at all detract from the ethereal majesty of it all, but in some ways enhances it. In that respect, this release bears comparisons to wacky Icelandic sound sculptors Sigur Ros – indeed, much of this album would play out quite nicely as the soundtrack to the BBC science/nature documentary.

The sign of a truly great album is that, when the last notes fade to silence, you’re left yearning for more. Much much more. The BM or shoegaze or any other label is entirely beside the point, here – Écailles de Lune sounds like an album that needed to be made – as if merely uncovered from the musical mêlée like a beautiful fresco on a grimy church wall.

The likelihood is that this will be shunned by the BM crowd for its ‘indie’ leanings and the French vocals won’t help commercially outside of France, so Alcest will struggle to get a popular foothold, which is a shame as this album needs to be heard by many, many people. Here we have then, the first absolutely essential album of 2010.

Supergroup. Say it out loud “Supergroup”. Does that word leave a bitter taste in your mouth? So many enterprises of exquisite promise, so much shattered hope. Approach all supergroups with scepticism, you say, and rightly so.

So is (Wino+Om+Neurosis+Melvins) > (Wino+Om+Neurosis+Melvins)? That remains to be seen, however it does add up to a stoner/doom/post-rock/prog party to which we should all turn up and revel. Shrinebuilder is a real meeting of minds. The various styles weave in and out of each other and melt, blend and bend to fit a new mould that overall is not quite any of them. It is at times, however, each of them. With Wino, Kelly and Cisneros all taking turns on the mic, you sometimes feel like you’re listening to 3 different bands, often in the same song.

That’s not to say that it doesn’t hang together. Some how they’ve made it sound like these 3 wildly different styles belong together. Underpinned by Cisneros’s hypnotic bass, and sheened with Neurosis style atmospherics and post-hardcore aggression, Wino’s trademark psychedelic guitars drive us through this eerie landscape. However, it’s the southern tinged post-rock soundscapes that really define the sound here so it transcends the component parts.

Almost a genre it itself, this is a singular debut and delivers the sort of quality and creativity that you’d expect from such an influential posse. It’s still too much of a sketch to really be the collective masterwork that these guys should be capable of, but if there’s a sense that Shrinebuilder are still finding their feet with this first offering, I absolutely can’t wait to see what happens when they do.

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It’s perhaps suprising given my constantly developing taste for ever more complex and ponderous music that this album arrived into my life several weeks ago and was filed in the “too damn daunting for where my head is at currently” pile after a single listen. After a several week long odyssey into drone (Earth, Sunn O))), Boris) this suddenly didn’t seem so intimidating any more, so I gave it another whirl.

Apparently lumped into the post-hardcore bucket with the likes of *shels (who also don’t belong there) The Pax Cecilia wafts evanescent over the sorry arse of any dreary musical subgenre they damn well please. Labelling them anything containing the epithet ‘core’ seems painfully beside the point. These slow building arrangements melt effortlessly from from folk to caustic hardcore to sparse drone to proggish melodic interludes. Anyone sampling opening track The Tragedy would be forgiven for thinking that this isn’t even rock music. These lengthy tracks are peppered with baroque strings, soaring guitars and subtle melodic vocals which occasionally erupt into a harrowing scream.

The sheer array of ideas and undisguised talent on display here is astonishing. That this band have done little to bother the popular consciousness is both a testament to the bravery of this album and a self fulfilling prophecy – The Pax Cecilia may well have “too damn difficult for their own good” chiselled on their tombstone, something that wouldn’t be said for the aforementioned Enio Morriconeists *shels who have the potential to really break through.

This album is made to be loved and cherished and played alone on rainy days (perhaps on long train journeys like the one from which this article is being written). This is not a happy album, and not one that you will truly grok in few listens, but like all truly exceptional albums it’s worth the effort. What’s more astonishing is that an album of this quality is being given away free. Yes, you heard me right, if you want to grace your world with this work of loveliness then it can be downloaded in its entirety for free here. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

Since the hot topic of the moment is unsigned bands giving their music away free, I thought I’d mention one of my favourite bands at the moment, Cloudkicker, who are doing exactly that.

Cloudkicker from Columbus, Ohio are a instrumental post/prog-metal act that thus far, to my knowledge, have given their entire back catalogue away free as downloads (all available here for your enjoyment).

This is significant to me. When I first heard their tracks on Myspace, I thought it was decent enough, but nothing to get excited about, and buggered off to hunt down some more fresh tunes. Later, I came by the link to their download page, and being the habitual horder that I am, I downloaded their back catalogue as it was enjoyable enough and would pass some time. These tracks spent a few weeks turning up randomly on shuffle, and slowly started to infect me. Soon I found myself consciously choosing to listen to Cloudkicker.

Cloudkicker use percussive, pulsing guitars and lightly industrial flavours of bands like Meshuggah and Strapping Young Lad and blend with subtle swathes of ambient melody. Cloudkicker grows. This is precisely why giving their music away free is a good idea.

Folks are unlikely to keep going back to Myspace to listen to tracks, and much metal music, especially stuff like this, needs more than a cursory listen to really grok. Cloudkicker are unsigned. It seems unlikely that they would have gained the notoriety that they have purely on Myspace or by charging for CD’s or MP3’s. To my knowledge they don’t promote themselves (certainly not this side of the Atlantic) and the magazines give them no love. So they found their way to me by reputation and onto my playlist through regular listens. I have already told several people about them, and now I’m telling you.

Download these tracks. The worst that can happen is that you don’t like them, at which point just delete them.

Manchester’s genre busting musicologists Oceansize could broadly be classified as post rock. Their atmospheric and unpredictable music is frequently beautiful and always challenging. Boasting 3 guitarists, Oceansize create soundscapes that flow effortlessly between ambient and aggressive and produce a depth of sound few other bands can achieve.

Few songs have the ability to make me feel so emotionally charged as the immersive Women Who Love Men Who Love Drugs from their startling debut album Effloresce. This surging epic begins with the subtly murmured lyrics suggesting the vagaries of drug abuse, before slow building into gigantic storm of frantic Jonny Greenwood style guitars. We are then soothed again by the song’s final coda of echoing guitars and washes of ambient sound. Perfect.

cephalopodous

Like their cephalopodous namesake, Californian post-metal oddballs Giant Squid are somewhat unusual and have long appendages (or songs). And what are curious beast they are. At times sounding like they ascend from the depth to confuse sailors; their obscure mix of styles is mesmerizing and unsettling.

From a bedrock of post rock like Godspeed.. and Pelican, Giant Squid layer flavours of 90′s American alternative, world music, and the classic prog of King Crimson and Pink Floyd. The vocals, a clear nod to the Jello Biafra/Serj Tankian, are accompanied by a plethora of instruments (trumpet, piano, cello). But this is no prog/muso noodling, there’s well structured songs here with tunes that reveal themselves in layers. They’re indie sensibilities add a popier dimension that their peers lack. It’s a refreshing mix in a sea of turgid Meshuggah wannabes.

Stretch your tentacles folks, and embrace the Squid.