Trapped on an ocean of disparate languages, sound gravitates towards meaning, escaping the obsolescence of mother tongues by denying the slow decay of time. In the biblical tale of the Tower of Babel, God punishes the tower builders by scattering them across the earth, unintelligible to each other. As they departed their blissful prison of same-think, they became drunk with new songs, washing down their newfound ‘auditory cheesecake’ with sectarian babble. In as much as their speech had been confounded, they were offered a musical re-enchantment through floating words, alveolar clicks and talking drums. By refusing the past, their music ceased to exist in time, choosing instead to create it.
Employing hurdy-gurdy, crystal bowls, bells, voice, drums and waterphones, Tetragrammaton revisits the bedraggled unlanguage of the castoff nomad builders with quantum force. Climbing into gilded time capsules, the three members soon reappear uttering unknown tongues and blowing ancient horns, drenched in the embryonic saliva of Thoth, that Egyptian God of knowing-it-all. Point of Convergence is arguably the group’s finest outing yet, capturing stripped-down harmonic explorations, overdriven dronescapes, meditative underwater recordings and a judicious dose of blown-out psychedelia.
“Jamie Reed’s cymatic cover art is something you’ll want to put on the wall alongside the cover to the famous swimming pool LP by Yoshi Wada.”
– The Sound Projector