|1||masters within spaces|
|2||down the ladder of lights, towards the gate of erim|
|3||of corridors and time|
|5||the unbroken circle|
|6||the last house|
|7||song for kalyx|
|8||my passing through the golden apex|
|10||vision (+ mix)|
|11||they are seven (+ mix)|
|12||the emperor’s orchid (+ mix)|
|13||rites (+ mix)|
|14||illumination of the sylph|
CD 6 panel digipack - ed. of 800 copies. Like a palpable ghostly presence that phases in & out vision; at once translucent & illusory; simultaneously rattling silverware, sending chills through the flesh. That strange unseen grip in the h&; that vaporous & unexplained cloud of breath in the middle of the hallway. A great billowy poltergeist, Whitelodge is a musical revelation.
The Lodge skirt borderl&s between the mysticism of seething "post rock" & the dark textures of latter day "apocalyptic folk," managing in the end to sovereign a musical nation of their own. Somber musical expressions exude surprisingly powerful punch & often carve modest stones into towering columns of sound, which, while not actually loud, seem to IMPLY loud. Constructed somewhat like a This Mortal Coil record, the quietly crafted combination of acoustic guitars, electric piano, bass & electronics effuse scents of Sol Invictus ("Against The Modern World"), Gastr Del Sol, Sea & Cake, Insides, late late period Swans, Roseclouds era Death In June with a little "Another Green World" style Eno plastering the cracks...but none of these really captures the true essence of the Lodge what is White. Where apocalyptic folk often drowns in its own cheesiness, Whitelodge rise above & avoid trying to force any sort of posturing or false celticisms into their music. Whispered vocals reincarnate a host of spirits from Red House Painters to Coil, driving the compositions home by inference rather than the obvious. This music is unbelievably tangible in its etherealness. A deep beauty resides within & repeated listens open endless blossoms. This album is also guilty of having at least a couple downright infectious tracks that are so brilliantly cooked as to be virtual tonal crack. The Grand Poobah beckons: become one with the Whitelodge!