Dino Spiluttini
Death Chants
SCORE: 7.4 out of 10
Put together by three previously composed pieces and two new ones, this may be one the most fluctuating Spiluttini’s releases to date. Death Chants aims -and succeeds- to evoke the anxiety of present times with its disjointed structure.
I’ve been reading, hearing and even have said this phrase quite a lot recently: these are weird times. And indeed this is a very, very weird time to be alive. We’re going through something that is affecting our lives -worldwide- and the chances of ever going back to how things used to be just a few days ago appear to be minimal. Whatever happens after this is over (because it will) is uncertain; what is certain is the fact that, now more than ever, the world will be graced with an unprecedented musical outpour, which undoubtedly will paint a brighter future, even if the works inspired by these events are a little dark.
Amongst the millions of artists taking advantage of this period of isolation is Dino Spiluttini, an Austrian composer who has been highly regarded due to the undeniable emotional impact of his electronic pieces; I would also argue that he needs to be recognized as a constantly-evolving artist, as he has shown throughout his catalogue, and the most recent Death Chants is no exception.
Put together by three previously composed pieces and two new ones, this may be one the most fluctuating Spiluttini’s releases to date. Not that the previous albums didn’t have any nuance to them, but Death Chants doesn’t feel as connected. This brief set of disjointed tracks represents a slight departure from Dino’s previous sound, which focused more on the use of tape loops to convey a haunting, decaying atmosphere, one that hit its peak with 2018’s eerie masterpiece, No Horizon.
The current pandemic-related cancellations for small and massive events has taken a financial toll on touring artists and the album’s aforementioned disjointedness stems from the fact that it had to be quickly assembled out of the necessity to put something out for sale; as a result, its sudden twists and turns make it feel devastatingly urgent. Dino aims -and succeeds- to evoke the anxiety of present times with his uneven flow, one that is ever changing and subtly erratic, just like flipping through the news, stumbling upon tragedy after tragedy.
As soon as the album starts, we’re treated to what sounds like a dying piano; the harmony and the melody on “Intro” move as if convalescent, slowly turning more and more unrecognizable, until they simply give up. The trail of reverb they leave behind is a highlight just for how morose and emotional it feels. Dino doesn’t mess around and straight up begins the album with a swan song. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering that on the liner notes, the artist affirms that “Many people are going to die, some of which might be our parents, grandparents or friends”; the statement might seem cold, but the music that’s being made to cope with this feeling, lets us know that his worries are real.
However, this EP also has a (kind of) playful side. The two new pieces -the titular tracks- are arrays into a mutated strain of r&b, one with chopped vocals scattered throughout a bed of blurry textures that sound as raindrops hitting the window of a fast moving car, or like frosted glass slowly cracking; in a way, these cuts serve as a look into both the past and the future, since they mix Dino’s signature sound (the decaying electronic textures), while foreshadowing what’s about to come in subsequent albums (a foray into a deconstructed form of r&b).
It cannot be stressed enough: these are weird times, and for a lot of us, music will provide much needed refuge and a healthy vessel upon which we can bestow all of those negative emotions that may come during these period of isolation. Dino has provided us with art that will help us -and him- get by; and while Death Chants may not have the beautifully cohesiveness and excellent flow of No Horizon, it’s because it wasn’t meant to be that way. Death Chants is a product of its time; a dark reflection of an even darker reality.
