Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10
There is nothing quite like the thrill, the trembling ecstasy, of finding a sound that is willing, determined, to shout into the void, a voice that comes from out of the dark, and like the figure on the pier, hands clasped to the ears, the swirling, layered canvas that is life catching the moment of delight, the solitude of pain, the agony of expression, the belief of true parity amongst equals.
We hear the scream every day, but it get lost, misplaced in the noise of the machine, we forget the tangible and real uproar that nature releases in its daily survival, and we have displaced the genius of our own unspoken thoughts in exchange for commercial gain; we have forgotten The Infinite Scream, the drama of letting go all the agonies without placing blame on anything other than the trigger point, our own insecurity, our own level of industry.
Industry, the human interaction with the world, the scream that Edvard Munch could perhaps perceive as he witnessed the deep red vibrancy of the sky as it colourised the universe, and one that countless poets and visionaries, artists and the common wonder of the person tied forever to the wheel have exercised their right to pierce, to digest, to examine with impunity, and it is one that Decommissioned Forests, the trio of passionate minds and spirits that make up this newly formed group, have put into practise with sharp intensity of feeling and a towering, clinical observation of audible strength.
Written and performed by Howard Gardner, Max Rael, and Daniel Vincent, Industry is a more of a movement that it is of a foray into framing the belief of angst, a movement that comes from embracing a poetic voice unafraid of the darkness, and one that encapsulates the truth and beauty to be found in artists such as Jim Morrison, Munch, Emily Dickinson, of Ginsberg, and Alan Moore, renegades with a soul, mavericks with pride, and as the album progresses, as the intertwined story plays out, so the listener is left breathless, consumed, and loyal to this dramatic recant and pleasure.
Through movements such as, Triggers, the sheer quality of expression in Spectral Kleptomania and Dust Ashes and Other Pointless Ephemera, and the three-part serial like Ants (Our Last Supper, Every Trauma Ever After, and The Universe Is Unaware), Decommissioned Forests hold the listener spellbound with what is a mission of aural performance. All three artists combining, but never overshadowing their respective partner, in a show of unity and belief, one that makes the maverick in us all smile and wish we could match the industry of Industry on all that we wish to achieve.
In the trembling ecstasy of life, if we are fortunate to hear the scream then we should embrace it, and like Decommissioned Forests, create art worthy of time.
Ian D. Hall