Space-rock is a strange name for a genre. It conjures up all kinds of escapist notions of floating through the galaxy and out-of-body experiences. But it just as easily describes the sound of a trip through troubled inner space, like Remora.
On this largely instrumental album, what songs there are that feature vocals provide a vague narrative thread, and with it the weaker points of Some Past’s Future. The lyrics offer too many insincere character sketches, and the broken dreams of the people who inhabit these songs seem to be reflected in the static, underdeveloped melodies. Of the songs with lyrics, “Work” stands out as most touching, with Brian John Mitchell singing in a voice not far above a whisper over ominous, bottomless guitar tones.
Remora’s strength would seem to lie in atmospherics (especially on “Nothing Hurts Quite Like You,” which would fit comfortably on a Fripp and Eno album) as opposed to songcraft. But the music seems to mistake those two completely different disciplines for one and the same. One of the hardest things of all to understand about this album is why it sounds so much like everything the people in the songs want to escape.
Written by Damian McVeigh.
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I've also written for Christ and Pop Culture, ScreenAnarchy, Filmwell, and Christian Research Journal. I pay the bills by creating beautiful user interfaces and websites for Firespring and Red Bicycle.