Isa

It’s not uncommon for DIY punk, hardcore and noise artists to veer towards the more contemplative, electronic ends of musical experimentation. ... Croatian Amor’s exercise in post-apocalyptic world building is another effective example of this transition. [Feb 2019, p.53]

Its narratives bump up against moments of real beauty, casting a robotic detachment over even its warmest moments. But Rahbek does an admirable job of presenting visions that are hard to shake.

Amid slashes of industrial noise and chilling silences, the two artists take turns offering similar surreal speeches about gazing up at a black airplane, a pitch-black sky, vomit, and a bird of paradise--sinister appeals to the unknown, to the unavoidable end times. These interstitials give Isa a dimensionality that seems to break a fourth wall of the record.

hat’s most striking is that the album really does tell a story. Its glorious conclusion arrives a little too soon, but it’s good enough to have you hitting rewind. Listen in a dark room, on headphones, and you’re likely to experience a few hairs-on-end moments. It’s ugly, yes, and sometimes contrived. But it’s beautiful too.

It’s a tense work, a deeply troubling piece--it evokes, at least in terms of mood, noise-terrorists like Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire. It’s also a thrilling record, one that stands up to multiple listens, and with each listen it becomes easier to digest.