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Review: Microfilm - AF 127 [Album]

Head Records // "Unnerving, eclectic, disorientating, but ultimately beautiful. One of the records of the year"

by Alex Taylor, May 27th, 2012 and has been Read 1188 times.
Last Edited by: Alex Taylor May 29th, 2012.

The Sahara desert is one of the most expansive places on Earth. It covers over 9,400,000 square kilometres, making it almost as large as the United States, and houses dunes up to 590 feet high. It is also incredibly sparse; travellers go for days without any contact with civilization and the only way life can survive is by finding one of the many oases dotted around the vast, parched landscape. These are vital given that the Sahara receives less than three inches of rain a year. Even in its wettest areas, rain may arrive twice in one week, then not return for years.

Microfilm’s soundscapes reflect the Sahara well. They hail from the Pink Floyd school of tripping your mind ever so slightly, sending you into trance – unnerving, eclectic, disorientating, but ultimately beautiful. Imagine the desert sun beating down mercilessly, then suddenly, just as you think you might slip under, you find water and shade. This is the journey which the French post rockers third record, AF 127, takes us down.

If this all sounds very intense, that’s because it is. As the album title suggests, the LP runs counter to mass marketable pop: the carefully curated product placement, vacuous smiles and inane choruses so frequently packed into a 2 minute YouTube clips, desperate to grab our fleeting attention. Instead, Microfilm serve up a killer brand of instrumental rock. Opener, ‘Flying Guillotine’ acts as a statement of intent. Introduced through an audio sample of howling, desolate wind, this soon gives way to brooding distorted guitars which build into waves of crisp energy. Instant comparisons can be drawn with Mogwai, however there is a ferocity evident, thanks in part to the effervescent drumbeat, that demonstrates a sharper edge.

Listen: 'Flying Guillotine'

Audio samples are common place throughout, acting as vocals in the otherwise lyricless tracks. This only adds to the warped sense of unregulated fluidity. For example, by the time ‘Flying Guillotine’ comes to a standstill, what began as a gusting wind has transformed into none other than men chanting Chinese; faded out with space-age bleeps. It therefore comes not as a surprise, but instead wry amusement, to find the next two numbers, ‘X’ploitation’ and ‘Icebar’, dominated by soundbites from, or inspired by, 1950’s America - the former surmising the frigid attitudes toward sex (pre Kinsey), and the latter lecturing on drugs. Both contain twists and turns, exposing the culture of appearance over reality so prevalent at the time. ‘X’ploitation’ is driven by a playfully monotonous bass guitar, fitting the helplessly repressive tone of the dialogue. Simple enough you might think. Yet listen closer and you’ll hear a girl making explicit sexual demands; a contradictory message typifying the hypocrisy of a nation.

Listen: 'X'ploitation'

‘Icebar’ is equally juxtaposing. Despite the dialogue deterring against substance abuse (taken from Anita Bryant’s straight-laced, 1970’s educational anti-drugs short), structurally and sonically the song gradually evolves into an acid trip. 2 minutes into the 5 minute run-time, we find ourselves hurtling down the rabbit hole – Anita’s warnings that ‘some of the things might look great and turn out to be terrible’, begin to sound borderline psychotic, enhanced by the echoing effects and sinister guitars. Indeed, the final extract, a ditto played during the credits, can easily be interpreted as a knowing love letter to drugs. Social comment aside, the song is a perfect example of how well the band combines the sampling, the distant ethereal sounds and the layered guitars to such excellent atmospheric effect.

Microfilm incorporate so many different styles and mediums into their rock instrumentation, with such weighty cinematic overtones, that it becomes difficult to define them solely as musicians. At points the album even drifts into film noir territory. ‘Intruder’ sound tracks and narrates the paranoia of a girl who is certain someone is after her, chilling interlaced with the panicked words of a mother searching for her daughter. Clearly they are a band working with the bigger artistic picture in mind. Is this music written to film, or the other way around?

Such creeping obscurity makes ‘Claude’ the most important track on AF 127. Featuring minimal dialogue samples, it serves to release all of the tension built up in the preceding tracks, and also demonstrates the scope of the band. Oscillating through peaks and troughs, like an animal straining for release from its cage, it eventually breaks free into a wall of noise, before simmering down ominously once again. Think Sonic Youth, complimented by disparate new wave sounds. Stretching out in oceanic fashion, the 12 minute piece abridges two sides of the album. From this point onward, (with the exception of ‘Intruder’), AF 127 steers away from verbal narrative dictation and lets the reverb inspired shoegaze do the talking. A softer, less abrasive side also emerges on ‘Wolf’, ‘Stranden’ and ‘Beauregard’, adding well needed balance; reaffirming that Microfilm are far from one dimensional fraudsters – they can send the energy whichever way they want.

Listen: 'Claude'

Final track, ‘Beneath the Sea’ is a sunny conclusion, the calm after the storm. Waves lap up on the beach and children can be heard playing. It is the oases in the desert, the shade from an album which is so engulfing, it could overwhelm. However, most dangerously, Microfilm know just when to take the foot off the pedal, leaving you time to renew yourself, refreshed and ready for more. Expertly produced and wonderfully bold, this is one of the best albums of the year. Enjoy it.

AF 127 is out NOW

Worth listening to:

• Flying Guillotine
• Claude
  
• X'ploitation
• Beaureguard
• DPT. 7
• Rio
• Icebar