Six Organs of Admittance Albums (10)
What The Critics Say
Following his retrospective RTZ compilation, Ben Chasny continued his 2009 work with Luminous Night, yet another in the string of compelling, moving releases under the Six Organs of Admittance name. It is almost too easy to describe it as simply "yet another Six Organs" album, given that Chasny's wide-ranging, continuously unstable artistic palette thrives on constant shifting between modes, whether talking simply about the arrangements of songs -- or even their core melodies -- or the shifting from stark solo performances to towering full-band arrangements. Luminous Night, though, lives up to its striking cover art and title just so -- a brightness surrounded by dark shadows. (Not for nothing is the elegant first song called "Actaeon's Fall (Against the Hounds)," referring to the Greek myth where a hunter spied the goddess of the moon bathing and was killed by his own dogs for his troubles -- and not for nothing is the final song, certainly the most unsettled-sounding on the whole album, called "Enemies Before the Light.") In some ways Luminous is also one of his most rural, reflective releases -- after the stressed anger of Shelter from the Ash, there is a turn to the mystic and soothing at many points, in the distant, strange squalls of noise on songs like "Anesthesia" and the ritualistic-sounding, violin-tinged slow moodiness of "The River of Heaven," as fog-bound and mystic as anything by Ghost. Perhaps the album's most elegant point is the blending together of the stately progression of "Bar-Nasha" into "Cover Your Wounds with the Sky." The latter's rough feedback crumbles set against distant piano suggests, without fully cloning, the majestic work of Flying Saucer Attack, providing yet another instance of how well Chasny works from numerous touchstones to create his own striking syntheses. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
'Shelter from the Ash'
Release Date 11/20/2007
Tracks 8
Label Drag City
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
It's clear from the very first moment of "Alone with the Alone," the opening track from Six Organs of Admittance's Shelter from the Ash, that this is a Ben Chasny record. The open-tuned drone -- the layers of acoustic guitar wash creating an enormous backdrop of pure "sound" before the half-sung, half-chanted vocal -- is a signature of sorts. It began happening on 2005's School of the Flower and came to fruition on 2006's Sun Awakens, but on Shelter from the Ash it's there from the jump -- that sense of complete "otherness" that inhabits the best of Chasny's solo music. Loneliness and tension are never answered on this record, only expressed into the void without self-pity. Chasny is a guitarist first and foremost, but he's become a songwriter. These eight songs may not be able to be covered by anybody else, but they are wonderfully constructed, beautifully textured, and exquisitely played. "Alone with the Alone" has that tension in it that threatens to burst at the seams at any moment, especially when the electric guitar solos by Chas and Tim Green cut glass through the mix, screaming into the whirlwind. But they are answered by the sleight of hand that is "Strangled Road." His acoustic guitar and voice elegiacally intone: "The belief in life is a belief in love/A strangled road on the mountain/Will swallow your flimsy faith/The trinkets that you keep/Are just made of dirt/And colored gold/By the very men that you hate...." It's heady and dark, even aside from the sense of warning and menace held effortlessly within the poetry of the lyric. Elisa Ambroglio is on backing vocals, and Matt Sweeney playing blues licks on an acoustic solo puts the beautiful melody at odds with the intense and foreboding nature of the words. The spiritual warning here -- about not becoming attached and being honest with oneself -- is accented in the second refrain by the singers as Chasny's electric guitar reaches to break through his own thoughts. And on these first two tracks the beauty of this set is brought into full aural view. Chasny's projects walk a tightrope with an abyss on one side and a fiery void on the other, between the dark side of human emotions and their willingness to consume us whole if we let them. This is one of the most darkly spiritual recordings out there. There is no preaching, only observation -- pointed, unflinching, and all the more powerful because of those limited vocals of his. But of course it's that sound that envelops us, and allows us to take in the words. Album by album, Chasny has become increasingly more relaxed with this sound -- so much so that now it's truly his own. He doesn't change it from record to record; if anything, he inhabits it more fully. The bowed cymbals in "Jade Like Wine" wrap themselves on the margins of Chasny's guitars and drones. His vocals follow that guitar toward an opening in the dark without knowing what's on the other side. He's the anti-Nick Drake. Perception is everything in Six Organs of Admittance's attack: it's enough to notice, to break down to the finest point, the leanest line, the smallest symbol, and allow it to stand for the whole -- which, as music and words come together and look at one another across that space, is more than enough. This is some of the most solitary and lonely music in the world, not in a forlorn sense, but in a spiritual warrior's. "Coming to Get You" and the instrumental "Goddess Atonement" are the two hinge piece on the set, and as only fitting are dead center in the middle of the record. This is folk without folk, rock without rock -- just pure shining musical darkness: "Did you tear what was once was tight/Or was it just me?/I can't tell between revelations/And the singularity/I'm coming to get you/And I will not let it hurt." The droning electric guitar by Ambroglio, the single-note lines by Chas, and the droning wall of feedback noise in the backdrop are threatening but utterly seductive. Gentleness and menace entwined, equal. When Noel Harmonson's drums drop in, all hell breaks loose and this becomes a screaming noisefest of wrangling electric guitars and feedback swirl. On "Goddess Atonement," an instrumental, listeners are already in the aftermath of what just transpired. A wall of noise that sounds like mass screaming (in truth, field recordings from the Amazon) gets canceled out by an acoustic guitar -- Chasny's chops are out of this world. He introduces this thing alone; he layers his electric in, and then drums and vibes, then Wurlitzer and the guts of a piano. It's a repetitive vamp, hypnotically underscoring the theme, which returns on a 12-string played almost frantically, and is answered by another acoustic guitar. The track is in its groove but never feels comfortable there, like it's always trying to escape. The set's longest cut, "Final Wing," weaves all the disparate elements together, and Chasny's singing reflects the depths of this space he's woven for himself and his listeners: "You lost/Your final wing/Never to grow back again/No change/No change from the dirt/To the sun/And wallowing back again/Claim time/From the wounds ripped in the sky...." The guitar sounds like a jet engine trying for the sound barrier and failing. It's hypnotically familiar but itchy, really uncomfortable, and therefore addictive. The title track follows with its wish for cover in the aftermath, though it's unclear just what emerges. All that's really left is sound. Hence, the final number, "Goodnight," with wordless vocals from Chasny and Ambroglio and an organ lining the margins. It's the only true calm in the acoustic and electric inner storm that is Shelter from the Ash. But once more, it's not a blessed-out calm, but more like one of surrender, resignation, and acceptance. Fate always has its way based on how we create its conditions. This shimmering little moment at the end of this disc is a beauty -- just a single measure played over and over again for three minutes. Shelter from the Ash once more asks more from its listeners than is the norm, but as it asks, it also rewards. The mystery and dark majesty of this set will stand up to repeated listening years from now. It is a further delineation of his own sound and as such is a pure, if unsettling, delight. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Ben Chasny's membership in certain bands such as Comets On Fire, and now his touring and recording efforts with Current 93 (his contributions to the latter's Black Ships Ate the Sky made it stand head and shoulders over any studio recording they've released) have certainly influenced his main project, Six Organs of Admittance. Chasny's singing on previous efforts has been a mixed bag. He's buried them in the mix, he's put them out front, he's showcased them in free flowing improvisatory pieces and in tightly written songs. The Sun Awakens is the record he's been promising. Where School of the Flower was a leap, placing his singing and guitar playing in equal measure -- though there were numerous instrumental pieces -- The Sun Awakens is the place they burst forth, fully entwined, completely formed. If anything, Chasny's vocals on this set are the most moving and sophisticated of his career. His singing has become so emotive within a fairly limited range as to nearly outshine his guitar playing, though not quite. The album opens with Chasny's electric guitar playing a short, open-chord interlude before ushering in one of the set's stunners: "Bless Your Blood." Accompanied by Noel Jon Harmonson on drums, John Connell on Persian ney, and Tim Green on a tone generator, Chasny's droning acoustic leads the way for nearly two minutes; but it's his voice and his words which become the central force. They are double tracked like the late Elliott Smith's used to be, though they sounds like something out of Aether, from time and space immemorial. They exhort, calmly, like another instrument, almost chant-like, and accompany the droning floating instruments perfectly. As other high-pitched backing vocals hover about the backdrop, the listener understands that this is a new type of folk song, one rooted in psychedelia, but it's most certainly not freak or acid-folk. The music swells to a nearly feverish electro-acoustic pitch without the tension ever being abated. It's followed in kind by "Black Wall," which picks that tension right up. Played in open E tuning, with rhythmic single lead lines against the drones, electric guitar gets overlaid as Chasny's sweetly dispersed vocals add to the drone effect, with an organ being woven in to bring density to the mix. "The Desert Is a Circle," is acoustic guitar and percussion with wordless vocals shimmering over a tune that is vaguely reminiscent of Hugo Montenegro's theme for The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Two brief instrumentals follow before the record's crowning achievement in "River of Transfiguration." It's a sprawling 23-minute cut, one that begins with tone generators, organ, and sound effects washing across the stereo mix. The sound of a ney is hiding in the background somewhere like it came from some forgotten Jon Hassell release. This series of effects gently creeps and crawls, ever more creepy until the actual tune starts at eight-and-a-half minutes. When the band does kick in -- with drums, basses, electric guitars, and a virtual chorus of wordless vocals in chanted layers, the drone effect becomes a central premise, one that's been hinted at for the entire album. Drone is not an M.O., it's the sound of life itself here. Its pulse is constant, like breath, and represents the interconnectedness not only of the instruments and the music swirling around it (and it does swirl like a kaleidoscope of color, texture, and dynamic) but of all things, really, and this transfiguration referred to in the title has more to do with the Buddhist concept of emptiness, where nothing lives independently of anything else and is intrinsically empty of individual meaning, but pregnant with the possibility of change and transformation because of that interconnectedness. As the piece whispers to a close with throat singing carrying the drone into silence, that becomes self-evident. That music can convey spiritual concepts without describing them is an achievement. That it does so with such drama, grace, and constancy is an event worthy of not only respect, but awe. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'School of the Flower'
Release Date 1/24/2005
Tracks 8
Label Drag City
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Ben Chasny has had a busy 21st century thus far. He's had six new recordings come out since the year 2000 and two others reissued, and he's become a full-time recording and touring member of Comets On Fire. School of the Flower stands somewhere between Compathia and For Octavio Paz, a mysterious, beautifully executed series of airy yet mysterious vocal and instrumental songs that put Chasny's elliptical guitar playing front and center (as has become the norm, he also plays organ and sings) and are draped in Chris Corsano's darkly textured percussion and organ work. The album kicks off with "Eighth Cognition/All You've Left," with free jazz drumming skittering around the forefront with a series of droning organ chords and skeletal single-note runs before it all gives way to a tenderly played acoustic guitar introducing Chasny's lilting vocal. "Saint Cloud" features a gently chanted vocal just beneath layered six- and 12-string guitars and droning electric sounds that develop into a controlled roar near the tune's end. The hinge piece on this set is the 13-and-a-half-minute title track. It begins with a hypnotic guitar pattern that gets doubled and then tripled up and sprawls into the stratosphere of wailing psychedelic electric guitars, spare percussion, and noise before winding down and dissembling itself into silence. Another standout is "Thicker Than a Smokey," a cover by the obscure (and apparently vanished) psychedelic-era folksinger Gary Higgins from his Red Hash album. It's an oddity here because it is so utterly straightforward as a piece of psych-folk, like it could have been on a Stephen Stills solo outtakes record. In all, School of the Flower is another step in a remarkable journey. It is full of emotion yet never sophomoric, it is full of aural poetry and never pretentious, and it is full of that certain mercurial grace that makes each new offering from Six Organs of Admittance something wholly other and an essential listen. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
With Compathia, Ben Chasny takes Six Organs of Admittance further in the direction of "songs" in the traditional sense (as opposed to extended, largely instrumental, raga-like jams). Assuredly, these aren't pop songs, but they are, most definitely, songs. With Dark Noontide, Six Organs' previous effort, Chasny's folky eastern melodies were balanced by his chant-like moan. But with Compathia, he sings on every track save one, the brief title track (which functions as a beautiful instrumental breather mid-album). His voice is also noticeably pushed forward in the mix, and the songs themselves are less cluttered by percussion and other instruments, further emphasizing Chasny's singing and lyrics. As a result, Compathia almost recasts Six Organs of Admittance as a recording outfit: more of a psychedelic singer/songwriter outing now than a (largely) instrumental drone-raga folk concern. John Fahey,Robbie Basho, and Sandy Bull still come to mind when it comes to Chasny's playing, but he has simplified his style -- in a good way -- accomplishing more with less. A dark, orphic guitar figure rings though each track as Chasny tells us (for example) to "run from nightmares" (from "Run!") in a voice that sounds like it knows what it's talking about. With Compathia, Six Organs could be thought of as Devendra Banhart's sober, less whimsical companion. Note: Ethan Miller from Comets on Fire contributes sitar to "Somewhere Between," as well as a searing burst of electric guitar to the album-ending "Only the Sun Knows" (the clear standout track), perhaps in repayment for Chasny's appearance on Comets' 2002 release, Field Recordings from the Sun. ~ Jason Nickey, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Packaged and released as a complement to the 2003 reissue of Nightly Trembling -- both albums feature the same apparently Tibetan or Buddhist design of fire on their covers -- For Octavio Paz consists of various recordings done by Ben Chasny with nylon string guitar, bells here and there, and here and there his own haunting keen of a voice. On "II" -- all the songs are listed strictly by Roman numerals -- that voice is in full effect; even buried in the mix, hearing his wordless cries adds a mysterious and downright sad depth to the already melancholic guitar picking of the song. That blend of sudden emotion shot through seemingly familiar or timeworn elements is a Six Organs hallmark, and it's readily on display here, regardless of whether Chasny sings or not. Where Nightly Trembling focused around particular instrumental and thematic motifs, For Octavio Paz is more varied, ranging from straight one-take guitar efforts that are sprightly as much as they are reflective, pauses in between sudden bursts of beauty, to gentle bell-only compositions. "VI" in particular is a bit of a technical masterpiece, a non-overdubbed guitar workout that both John Fahey and Bert Jansch would doubtless nod approvingly at. But even that has to take a back seat to the concluding "VIII," a near side-long performance on steel-string guitar that at points is moving so quickly -- and with such giddy, crackling energy -- that it would deservedly put legions of guitar magazine gearheads to shame. There's a slight smudginess to some of the recordings -- perhaps intentional or perhaps a result of them being pressed up from four-track, as was Nightly Trembling -- and it sometimes hides the songs a bit beneath distortion that doesn't always seem to jibe, but that's a small complaint for such a fine release. ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Six Organs of Admittance took a huge step forward with Dark Noontide -- the second full-length from the essentially one-man acoustic project -- without completely abandoning the sound of its predecessor. While still operating within a tradition that includes such blues/raga guitarists as John Fahey and Sandy Bull, Dark Noontide brings vocals to a more prominent position on songs like "Spirits Abandoned" and "This Hand." Connecting these more song-oriented outings are perfectly paced drones and ambient field recordings that are enjoyable on their own merits. Working within a very limited framework -- essentially solo guitar and four-track manipulations -- Six Organs is able to explore a surprising variety of moods and textures on Dark Noontide. ~ Jason Nickey, All Music Guide
'Dust and Chimes'
Release Date 12/12/2000
Tracks 11
Label Holy Mountain
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Dust and Chimes turns out to be the perfect title for Six Organs of Admittance's second album. Wandering further into the wilderness that he happened upon with his debut, Ben Chasny constructs a hazy, East-meets-West mélange of ragga-influenced guitar, bells, and nasal vocal chants. It's definitely Chasny's most stoned work, especially on the druggy, sun-drenched whirlwind of "Hollow Light, Severed Sun" and the Tyrannosaurus Rex-sounding fantasy folk of "Blue Sun Chiming," complete with its "Tomorrow Never Knows," backward ambient sounds. In its own hallucinogenic and otherworldly way, Dust and Chimes is Chasny's most upbeat work (aside from his unreleased solo recordings). It departs from the heavy, enthralling ambience of the debut album with a sheer, sun-dappled airiness and is still quite unique from the drone-psych that would follow on Dark Noontide and the anger-induced folk to come later with Compathia. But there is something about the music of Six Organs of Admittance that is so incongruous with its contemporaries that almost requires an entirely new mindset to comprehend it. If Peter Jackson had heard Six Organs before making the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the soundtracks to the films may very well have been very different. Dust and Chimes could certainly pass for music that originated in Middle Earth. ~ Charles Spano, All Music Guide
'Six Organs of Admittance'
Release Date 1/1/1998
Tracks 7
Label Six Organs of Admittance
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What The Critics Say
On Six Organs of Admittance's self-titled debut, Ben Chasny lays the foundation for the psychedelic folk-blues that he would continue to explore all the nooks, corners, and crevices of in his subsequent work. The record relies heavily on ambience and noise to give the beautiful acoustic guitar pieces a rough-hewn quality that makes them seem timeless. A single drone lasts the entirety of the first song, "Maria," but "Sum of All Heaven," with its catchy, repeated line "head for the sun," foreshadows the more pop-oriented structures of his 2003 album Compathia -- although with mythological wilderness music wandering for over ten minutes in this case. On first listen, this record seems less caffeine-driven then Chasny has suggested, but upon closer inspection there is a striking uniqueness and fidgety intensity to the particular thread of dark ambience that is woven throughout. Too hypnotic to be scary but simply far too mind-warping to feel the least bit safe (especially on the horror movie-worthy "Invitation to the SR for Supper"), the Six Organs debut makes Bert Jansch-inspired folk-blues into something endlessly alluring but potentially dangerous. It sounds like something that a third album-era Led Zeppelin might have come up with while crouched around a campfire in the English countryside, heads full of Indian music, British folk, and some really potent drugs. ~ Charles Spano, All Music Guide
