Genre: Dark Ambient
Fractured earth rises scarping a line of angular cliffs against desaturated skies, the escalade up the precipitous embankment threaded with a retiary of frayed barbed wire where the moribund bodies of those who pressed upwards before hang; overhead cachinnations of mechanical fire bespeak of a swifter execution than the twitching marionettes clambered upon. At least, so intimates the geography of Phragments first track on this debut album, re-released in full replicated fashion from its previous limited edition of one-hundred fifty metal cased CDRs.
The adumbration of ‘Homo Homini Lvpvs’ is one of gloomy ambient backswells ribbed with electronic stridulations, percussive bombast lopes on the wired frequencies elicited from the strung coils of metal spurs; armature becomes transmissive. Great cumulus clouds disgorge constantly into the sky flagellating the ruined earth with thunderous orchestral impacting, welling strings sound more like sirens than melodic exposition. Sampled phantom voices slough in a sundered world, creasing such empty waste as Phragments portray in attempt to classify structure figurative and literal. Crackling dirges frown like the roiling and tumid clouds upon a dearth of dense earth now nothing more than morass and memory, the sirens of horns pulped with strings blare their constant machinations. Martial rhythms find ingress in track four, ‘Pangaean Hymn’ which bleats a confluence of old meter and manipulated noise, a transmuted membrane to drape across barren wilderness. Seething gloaming invects new percussive qualities, irregular mechanical trills and roped ligaments bespeak of almost new animation rather than fragments of the past. Whereas a lot of dark ambient/industrialism blends both into vistas of decay, ‘Homo Homini Lvpvs’ is a lumbering machine digesting and recombining elements of the old into its new schema as liaison with progression in lieu of humankind, though analysis shows the cracks and splinters preventing pure imitation by this beast that stamps a bourn of desolateness.
All eight tracks are as they were on the CDR though this digipak release retains a bonus in the form of a video track. Grainy black and white unveils swarms of beetles and old Slovakian footage of life on the streets, in the home and on the farm, including military might across the eleven minute opus.
This new edition of ‘Homo Homini Lvpvs’ comes pressed in a silken single gatefold digipak on hard card, the only visual elements being the grave of a city viewed between strands of barbed wire and the Phragments symbol of cog conjoined with cross. This edition is limited to five hundred copies.