(Andy Synn may not understand “art”, but he knows what he likes… and he likes Grey Aura)
They say that you can’t spell “Avant-Garde” without the letters “A”, “R”, and “T”… and it turns out they – whoever they are – were right!
Of course, Grey Aura have known that for a long time, as both of their previous albums – 2014’s double-disc debut Waerachtighe beschryvinghe van drie seylagien, ter werelt noyt soo vreemt ghehoort (which chronicled the final exploits of Dutch explorer Willem Barentsz) and 2021’s equally ambitious, but considerably more concise, Zwart Vierkant (which retold and reinterpreted the first half of a story of obsession and insanity written by the band’s own Ruben Wijlacker) – more than qualify as true expressions of avant-garde “art”.
So it should come as little surprise that Slotstuk (as I’ll be referring to it) – which picks up, thematically speaking, where its predecessor left off, unravelling the tale of “a 20th-century Modernist painter whose attempt to dismantle physical reality through abstraction leads him to the brink of madness” – continues to push the boundaries, further blurring the lines between not just the various different genres which comprise the band’s creative palette… but also the lines between sanity and insanity as well.
Of course, no band, no matter how talented (or how weird), can truly communicate what it feels like to lose one’s mind, but Slotstuk – which I’d argue is even more unconventionally aggressive and unpredictably abrasive than its predecessor, both more Black Metal in some ways yet still defying such simple categorisation – nevertheless serves as a fascinating glimpse into the depths of the band’s own particular brand of musical madness.
It’s madness with a method though, that’s for certain, as while it may lack Zwart Vierkant‘s strange fluidity, the crazed catharsis and unstable intensity of tracks like “Daken als kiezen” and “De ideologische seance” – both of which are positively overflowing with an expressionistic amalgam of heart-rending howls and anxiety-inducing riffs, flittering, fret-wandering bass lines and skittering, shape-shifting drums – cleverly mirrors the ongoing mental decline of the album’s central protagonist.
At the same time there are moments of lucidity scattered here and there – such as the dreary, rain-drenched acoustic opening of ambitious, transformative early highlight “Een uithangbord van wanhoop”, for example, or the sinister jazz-break in the middle of “Opgehangen afgrond” – whose presence both serves to deepen the creative palette of the music (adding some subtle shades and subdued nuances to offset the rest of the record’s maximalist, multi-hued assault on the senses) and also reflects the true horror of knowing that you’re losing your mind… yet being unable to do anything to stop it.
And while you don’t have to spend time digging into the source material in order to enjoy (if that’s the right word) this album – though the increasingly “blackened” brush-strokes which make up songs such as the riff-heavy, synth-infused “Waarin de dood haar kust” or the dissonant, discordant delirium of “De stem, nu als zeeboezem” (one of the record’s most disturbing highlights) certainly make more sense when one considers the black, empty void at the heart of the story – the experience is all the richer when the central themes of the novel are taken into account.
Sure, this ultimately makes Slotstuk a more difficult, more demanding, work than Zwart Vierkant (which, need I remind you, I chose as one of my “Critical Top Ten of 2021“) as well as being somewhat less “coherent” (though this is likely by design) and arguably less consistent overall, but it also allows the album (especially as it spirals towards its chaotic climax during the final moments of the manic, panic-stricken title-track) to gift us with a fleeting glimpse – which, for most of us, will be more than enough – into the very mouth of madness.
And, really, isn’t that what art is meant to do?