Pitchfork

The first time I saw Godspeed You Black Emperor!, the stage they were playing on was about as big as my apartment kitchen. Shoving nine shaggy, disheveled Canadians into a tight corner along with cellos, dulcimers, glockenspiels, and whatever-the-hell-else strikes me as somewhat inhumane but the physical proximity of the musicians seems a completely appropriate manifestation of what has become the typical GYBE sound. The music begins calmly and comfortably, droning and relaxed, as the musicians attempt to adjust themselves, but before long, the inevitable tension arises: Norsola steps on Sophie's foot, Dave ashes in Efrim's hair, Mauro elbows Roger, the projector shines into Aidan's eyes, and eventually the sound grows to a cacophonous slow riot.

You'd think that the essentially two-person line-up behind Esmerine would then contribute to a more relaxed and meditative mood. Consisting mainly of A Silver Mt. Zion and Set Fire to Flames' Becky Foon on cello and Godspeed's Bruce Cawdron on sundry percussion, Esmerine's minimal personnel should have much more breathing space, and hence, arrive at a less stressed sound. Not so: Their debut record is a mixed bag of the contemplative and the aggressive, as the two members seem to latch onto that claustrophobic Godspeed frustration, possibly purely by force of habit.

A xylophone opens the record's leadoff track, "Red Fire Farm", with strings and militaristic drumming following close behind, building, building, and then slowly exhaling as the track returns to a crawl. So it's typically Godspeed-esque, save one important thing: In stark contrast to GYBE's fiery 22-minute suites, Esmerine practice remarkable efficiency: The track reaches its climactic frenzy in a taut 4\xBD minutes-- and without sacrificing any of its tension or release. Of course, while this is certainly a functional start to the record, it's hardly spectacular, and even less so in comparison to its follow-up, "There Were No Footprints in the Dust Behind Them".

"Footprints" exhibits a much more effective use of the elements available to the two leaders: Here, strings take the forefront, and, given plenty of room by underlying unobtrusive percussion, are allowed to set the song's pace. This provides them the space necessary to explore the range of their pitch and tempo, and to shake the room, drone at midrange, and then shriek out excitedly, all within the span of a few concise moments. Though Esmerine hardly exercise the succinctness of the opening song here, the unexpected dynamic range of "Footprints" makes its 12 minutes seem a perfect length.

These two tracks represent how the rest of the album can generally be categorized: a) typically Montreal structured crescendos, or b) exploratory contemplations. What's interesting is that these two elements balance each other out, neither allowing the album to become an exercise in tension sustenance (a la Yanqui UXO), or to be written off as obnoxious, rambling tedium (Set Fire to Flames' Telegraphs in Negative). While the crescendos are allowed ample time to brood, the meditations are never shown a level of hospitality that could encourage them to overstay their welcome. Still, it might have been nice if the duo had taken better advantage of their opportunity for genuine exploration.