Locrian from Chi-town (Chicago, USA) are by no means a typical band, and perhaps they are proud of this. Borrowing the post-black stylings of forward-thinking New Yorkers Krallice, post-rockalyptic instrumentality of Explosions In The Sky, and the droning post-disquietude of Sunno))), they’re certainly not ones for short and punchy tunes. Instead, they opt for the more aethereal end of the metal world, where light rather than darkness takes prevalence, and more introspective topics of mortality, spirituality, and some heartfelt reflection takes the stage (no pun intended with one of the songs being “Panorama of Mirrors”). Understandably, this isn’t everyone’s thing, so from the start they’ve got an obstacle to overcome. In making music that dares to try for the “epic”, is it possible for them correctly capture the essence unlike a teenager remarking the latest technological marvel or a particularly skillful maneuver in a sports match?
While Locrian’s certainly a competent musical outing, they’re the kind of band that goes nowhere fast. Indeed, the end of the title track becomes engaging about halfway in after a drone section that, well… drones. The tracks before that have few remarkable moments, despite being well-crafted musical pieces that obviously were made with some amount of care. It’s just not interesting enough to hold its own among their similarly introverted contemporaries in Deafheaven and Krallice, and even the old post-everything trailblazers in Jesu and Swans, who were doubtlessly great influences here.
Overall, Return To Annihilation is just too slow and grand for its own good. The minimalistic album art is a good indicator of what to expect sonically; featuring a shopping cart in an abandoned misty parking lot, a faint outline of trees in the distance, hinting perhaps at the way back to civilization, or perhaps just a way to trick the unsuspecting into going too far into the beyond. It’s engaging, and begs further examination, but it’s easy to get lost when exploring an environment that is largely blank with few landmarks to refer to. And landmarks are what Locrian need on this album; songs that engage rather than allow the attentions desperately sought after to wander and trip over unsorted mental debris. While the final track, “Obsolete Elegies” does pick up with a brief rock-out near the end following a tastefully done ambiance that resembles either a DMT trip or a near-death experience (I would imagine), it’s too little, too late. Style? It’s there. Substance? Woefully underfed.
7/10
Sean Genovese