Intrinsically connected to the French punk/hardcore scene, French solo project The Eye of Time (aka Marc Euvrie) release the first edition of a three part-album-long concept - MYTH I: A Last Dance For The Things We Love. This life-affirming and philosophical synthesis is to be overlooked at your peril.
LP £20.99 DEN262LP
180g vinyl LP on Denovali.
CD £11.49 DEN262CD
Digipak CD on Denovali.
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- MYTH I : A Last Dance For The Things We Love by The Eye of Time
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If I’ve learned one thing from my editor-in-chief here at Norman Records, it’s to weep a lot. This Eye of Time record offers a great opportunity, crashing in on a sombre wave of post-rock that reminds me, in turn, of about five different devastating records: it’s got Gorecki-esque strings, Rachels nu-symphony, Godspeed’s hopelessness… the list goes on into abandon. Double down on this crescendo collapse and you’ve got a concept album attempting to encompass the story of… humanity.
Marc Euvrie’s music is huge, always covering the same amount of territory as a Jon Mueller or William Ryan Fritch record -- his tone, however, is strikingly singular, blending pastorality and vampirism into a grand epic poem of pious organ figures, lovely string swells and procession drums. In its abstract, the record considers a culmination of human struggles, citing the current refugee crisis and capitalism amongst its themes. The music, in turn, is more of a lament than a discourse. Euvrie has always been a master of mixing sombre classical pieces and heavily distorted, beat-centric anthems that speak the language of 65daysofstatic, and so his music can speak to power and powerlessness in turn.
There’s a lot happening here, and as the opening chapter of Euvrie’s new MYTH trilogy, a lot of it feels like a wonderful opening set-piece, navigated to climax on one of Euvrie’s many impulses for the grandiose. The piano ballad turned calamity of “L’enfer ce n’est pas les autres c’est moi” is a gorgeous panorama gone wrong, while the record’s title track breaches its swaying, trembling ambience for a triumphant victory lap. Massive fucking stuff.
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