Someone beats on sheet metal. A phone rings? White noise and feedback. Sounds from a long lost sci-fi B movie
I think. Someone recorded the sounds from an alien spaceship's motherboard. A saxophone goes completely fucking berserk. An eerie, unrelenting din pervades everything. This is what I hear as I sit down to review Nonhorse's compact disc. Enter Haraam, Circle of Flame.
Do me a favor. Go to Wikipedia and type in "Haraam." Read the first couple lines and tell me that's not intriguing. An album named after that? Spooky, right?
So, exactly who or what is Nonhorse? A man by the name of Gabriel Lucas Crane found "piles of mysterious old cassettes," called himself Nonhorse and produced the most bizarre, enigmatic album I've heard in a very, very long time. He samples a potpourri of noises from "manipulated voices" to "train signals and animal sounds." If this isn't arcane, I don't know what is.
Do you know those nature tapes? You know, the ones used to make the listener relax and feel completely calm? Nonhorse's Haraam, Circle of Flame is the exact opposite. I'm confident that this album would send anyone under the influence of a psychedelic drug directly into a bad trip. I mean a really bad trip. Hell, I even feel paranoid listening to it and I'm entirely void of drugs at the moment.
This could be haunted house music. I can see it now: walking down a hall in complete darkness, your heart rate elevates as your senses become disoriented. Just then, "Track Five" of Haraam, Circle of Flame comes on and a man wearing a Jason mask sprints out of the room at the end of the hall wielding a noisy fucking chainsaw. Of course, the chainsaw has no blade on it, but you're horrified nonetheless.
If you're psychologically unstable, do not listen to Haraam, Circle of Flame - it might put you over the edge. Give this album to your stoned friends and watch as their pupils dilate and contract uncontrollably. Nonhorse gives us one hell of a psychoactive experience. Disregard my score, as I have no way of truly rating this cacophonic creation. See for yourself.
See also
Mark Z. Danielewski's novel House of Leaves; your worst nightmares
