There is nothing about the music of Planning For Burial that could be deemed conventional; at least not in terms of style. For Thom Wasluck there are no boundaries or genre confines to adhere to with his art, owing him the freedom to create a sound unlike any other. Blending elements of drone, doom, indie-rock, and shoegaze, Planning For Burial has always been an uncompromising prospect, and âBelow The Houseâ is no exception.
Recorded in the confines of Wasluckâs childhood home in Pennsylvania, which he returned to after years of living in New Jersey, he immersed himself in the mundane emptiness that came with daily routine. The record speaks of solitude, isolation and sorrow and thatâs before you have looked at the back-story of âBelow The Houseâ. It sounds, feels and even smells like despair, painting bleak pictures, as ugly, twisted images manifest before you.
Yet âBelow the Houseâ is no pity party or cry for attention. It barely feels like catharsis. It is a projection of the human condition through a bleak and desolate soundscape. Be it the monolithic wall of distortion that aurally punishes you through âWhiskey and Wineâ, or the heart-wrenching narrative of âWarmth Of Youâ, in which Wasluck declares, âI wanted you, I needed you,â over an incandescent drone, âBelow The Houseâ is an emotional endurance test.
While each composition is vocally kept to a minimum, at least when it is audible and not buried amongst the oppressive noise of âSomewhere In The Eveningâ, it relies heavy on instrumentation to do the talking. It speaks like a soundtrack to a movie you havenât seen, allowing you to follow Walsuck as he transmits to tape the sounds in his head. In the tradition of bands like Have A Nice Life and Wreck & Reference, who also call The Flenser home, âBelow The Houseâ is more than just a record: it is a journey.
It isnât all blistering cacophony for the duration, though. âThreadbareâ is sullen and softly picked, with melodious keys and bells, only giving way to low-end drone at its cadence. There are also two haunting instrumental passages that segue the latter half of the record, and the title track relies on disjointed acoustic guitars to bring âBelow The Houseâ to a close.
Thereâs no doubt that âBelow The Houseâ is the most refined Planning For Burial record and, while far from clean cut or polished, it does have a more welcoming nature than that of the previous full length, âLeavingâ. It is, however, a body of work bereft of goodness, tailor made for lonely, loveless nights.
GLEN BUSHELL