Every once in a while I'm sent an album that I struggle to make sense of. This is by no means a problem. My brain needs the work out if I'm going to keep my neuroplasticity up while headed into my golden years. Also, as a rule, just because I'm not sure what I've caught, doesn't mean that I'm averse to sharing it with you. I'm generous in that regard- for better or for worse. And this is how I'm choosing to introduce Anatomy of the Heads, whose latest LP, Jungle Cult Terror, I enjoyed quite a lot... even if it caused me to become suspcicious of every random groan emitted from the wood in my apartment or every shadow I happened to spot out of the corner of my eye. AoftheH (as I think they prefer) is comprised of three named individuals (Michael van Gore, Jonas Heidenritch, and Jérôme Fisch) and was formed on the island of Kiribati (allegedly) in 2015. They describe themselves (among other things) as a "psyop" on Bandcamp, which is probably true. They're very strange and their music makes me feel like I'm being manipulated in a profound way. How isn't clear- but the impression remains. Allow me to explain, if you can imagine free jazz performed in the style of raw black metal with some Pacific island motifs embedded throughout like obsidian cobra scales, then you have the basics of their sound- but not the whole story. There is an environmental factor to AoftheH's work, especially on Jungle Cult Terror, that surrounds you like a paranoid fog. A horror as light as air, one that flows into your lungs and pulls you down and into their world like your chest was filled with stones. Even though these sounds appear to be perilously close, it never feels like you can ever quite pinpoint their origins. Your line of sight is always obstructed somehow, as if the drums and moaning player responsible for this cacophony are ducking behind rotting trees or wallowing in the mud under a dense carpet of untamed underbrush. They are a mosaic of dark patterns and even darker enterprises. This eerie ambiance is summoned by the spot-on mixing, which replicates the temperature and texture of a Herschell Gordon Lewis film- wicked and uneven, but manifested with a purposeful, maligned intent that is bafflingly clear and dismayingly inviting. I don't have that much more to say about this one, other than give it a whirl, and if you need it, BetterHelp is just a web query away.*
