Category Archives: Baron

Straight Outta Birmingham

Featuring : Baron

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Baron last graced these pages back in 2013 with Hearth Shell’s synth arpeggios bubbling away underneath a New-Age via late 70s NYC vibe.   Which was about as representative of the album as any other track off it.  Which is to say, not a lot.  Which obviously made us love it.

Baron in 2015 is pretty fucking focussed in comparison.  It is, dare we say, a rock record.  Well, via Progressive Folk.  And Psyche.  And Wild Cry on the album sounds like a shamanistic David Byrne on cough syrup.  But anyway, guitars…everywhere.  And drums.  And riffs.

Which brings us to the album’s epic centrepiece, Stry.

Dragging itself out of a some celestial marsh — all fog and stars — the song slowly makes its way towards civilisation, one enormous squelching footstep at a time.  And by civilisation we mean a 13th century dwelling teetering between worlds.  And when it gets there it does not knock but stands at the threshold with fire licking across its skin.  It glances at the ghosts of all that have lived there and all that will.  It’s at this point that the sky rips in two.

Baron – Stry

Stry is taken from Baron’s album Torpor which is out on Svart Records.  You can pre-order here  for digital and here for limited vinyl.  Both are out on today.

The Cave of Forgotton Streams

Featuring : Baron

Sometimes our haphazard attempts at arranging tracks to post come crashing down.

Sometimes I wonder about that treacherous gulf between the rolling excitement of the new and the cannonisation of the old.  There must — I ponder, stroking a greying beard — exist a great sea of music trapped in the caverns of our iTunes libraries, crushed further and further down by ‘sort by Date Added’.

So I went spelunking (because it’s a more lyrical word than potholing) and stumbled across a cave of such beauty that it hurt to think of it laying, underground, all this time.

baron_Columns

Sometimes you just want to be sung to in a voice that sounds like waves and sunshine.  Sometimes you wish for that episode of Miami Vice where Crockett & Tubbs spend the entire episode sat on the Porsche, watching David Bryne perform on a street corner to no one.  Sometimes Vangelis in his New Age pomp is exactly what you want to hear.

Baron – Hearth Shell

Today iTunes offered up Baron and it was a good day.

This is taken from Baron’s Columns that came out at some point in 2013 (all right, 13/01/13).  You can buy it here.  Our humble apologies for neglecting it until now.

The Shadows are Persistent

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Crackling lightning subsides after briefly signalling your arrival atop this place. The skyscraper’s concrete roof is reassuringly cool and indifferent beneath your bare feet.  You spot a bland, sturdy door rising from the rooftop that undoubtedly leads to the building below.  All abstract thought has retreated, to be replaced by a gnawing hunger for food and shelter.

The door gives way during the third attempt at smashing the lock.

Baron – Hearth Shell

The access stairwell is harshly illuminated.  You shadow is cast like a monochrome kaleidoscope against every available surface.  This would be a problem if there was anyone around to care.

You gaze at the building’s inhabitants: shapes formed of glass and cotton and metal and plastic.  Your eyes continue their search for anything edible; any sign of life; any hope of sleep.  The journey, hardly begun, has left you with nothing.

Death waits in the shadows for you to fall.

A hum, a single tone and a splash of colourful light spill out from a distant corner.  The vending machine’s flimsy resistance lasts only a few noisy blows and the loot is yours.

Death moves from the shadows, stirred by the brittle sounds of your victory.

Shadows dance around; light from the disembowelled machine reflecting off the shards of glass that now litter the floor.  You move on.  Pressing further into the building.  Emboldened by your resourcefulness, cunning and guile.

The abandoned corpse of the machine is slowly swallowed by darkness.  Death stalks you.

You press down levels, faster and faster.  The unconscious feeling of cold dread pressing in on the nape of your neck.  Walls and lights and text and machines — they fly through your vision before being consumed by the darkness that descends with you.

You must leave this place.

A lift lies motionless, its doors open and inviting.  You dive in and hammer the button marked ‘0’.  The doors begin to close.  Light fades in the hallway.  You hear a scraping sound and cast an accusatory glance at the doors as they drag themselves together.  In fairness to the doors, the sound had unquestionably come from further off down the hall.

Brett Naucke – Endless Royalty

The lift doors finally open on a corridor.  At the end is an emergency exit.  The door is open and soft daylight spills in.  Halfway down the corridor on the left, also ajar, is an imposing laboratory door.  The door is emblazoned with every yellow, red and green warning sticker you can imagine.

The lift lights start to dim.

Group Rhoda – Disappearing Ground (Identity Theft Remix)

You haven’t seen Tron and you regularly ignore warnings about experimental equipment.  If you decide to rush into the room, go here.

You hear the faint (and incongruous) sound of branches swaying beneath the talons of unknown creatures…and this seems infinitely more appealing to you.  Exit the building and go here.

2013 References

Image taken from The Stanley Parable

You can acquire Brett Naucke’s excellent ‘The Visitor’ here.

A special mention should go to Identity Theft whose 2011 album, Night Workers, we only discovered this year (thanks to Group Rhoda).  It’s an opaque gem and you should check it out here