Here Be Dragons possesses a unique quality of being stylistically special while at the same time striking a very strong vibration of nostalgia. Time slows down and folds over as the myriad forms and styles are sent through a kaleidoscopic opium den. The album cover is a striking acrylic painting done on wood by one Luke Berliner. The girl depicted in the painting appears to be in a deep trance, eyelids heavy, casting a spell upon those who dare lose themselves within her gaze. Her androgynous appearance as well as the dark, ambiguous nether-scape sets the mood up convincingly for sultry violins, burly trombones, haunted electronics, and a cast of other earthly and cosmic sounds to conjure a most splendid nocturne.
The spectrum of musical sounds and shape-shifting styles denies the The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble (TKDE) a strict classification. Overall, there is a feeling of baroque intimacy that pervades everything. "Lead Squid" slowly emerges with low-end trombones grumbling in the distance, as if invaders are descending upon us this night. The seduction then truly begins with a spine-straightening analog synth passage, soon accompanied by shuffling drums and trombones dancing by the firelight. This is a bold and appropriate song to begin the album with, as it rears many heads during its nine minutes. The opening groove eventually fades away to give rise to a moody guitar melody and dizzied female vocal harmonies. There are enough movements in this track to have one checking to see if the next song has started yet, but this would be premature. The climax comes drenched in liquified, synthetic drums that flex and wring themselves like an electric nudibranch having a dimensional crisis.
And that's just the first track. "Caravan" features tasteful electronic touches, motorized violin flourishes, and solid stand-up bass lines. There are a couple cinematic flourishes courtesy of the strings that seem like a shout-out to Venetian Snares' Rossz Csillag Alatt Született (almost a note-for-note echo). This suspicion resonates when we learn that bassist Jason Köhnen remixed that album (No easy feat!). "Embers" summons The TKDE's inner Massive Attack and couples its mournful female vocals with fantastic swaths of trombone and guitar harmonics. "Samhain Labs" sounds like a meditation on mischief, loosely constructed with night sky guitar reverb, muted horns, and dark flourishes straight from a lava bog. Each piece has so many different sounds that blend seamlessly. Everything is held together by the crafty electronic atmospheres and beats that draw attention to themselves only in select moments. More often they serve as a canvas for the trombones, cello, violin, guitar, and vocals to dance upon, and the results are both subtle and spectacular.
The female vocalist has several personalities that emerge throughout. Often enough, the voices are smeared or cast on sparkling threads through the ether. Occasionally there are lyrics, clearly sung. "Sharbat Gula" features operatic sinews that drift like spirits, while the space between mouth and microphone in "Seneca" is claustrophobic, mimicing Tori Amos at her most saccharine. Dark and mournful, the lyrics are sparse enough to be ignored, if that's one's desire. A turn off for some, perhaps, but they cast yet another layer to delve into and are sung with confidence.
Strangely, after the album's near-hour concludes, I often find myself forgetting the entire experience, much in the way a dreamer doesn't remember what happens during an out-of-body experience. What remains are images and feelings, heightened instincts. A focus on the subtleties throughout the album will reward the listener with fascinating pockets of Middle Eastern narrative, jazzy trip-hop star-scapes, expert drumming, sorrowful lyrics, and the satisfaction of treading into very personal territory.
It is important to stress that deep listening reveals all the rich detail -- no tourists allowed on Here Be Dragons. Before the mapping of the world was in the finite state it is now, ships would boldly tread into uncharted waters, where dragons were said to lie in wait. The folks in the TKDE really pushed outside their boundaries to get each of these songs to take its unique shape. The album finishes with one of the best tracks of the year, "The MacGuffin." This is the mind's epic return from the ghost ship lost at sea. After being lulled into a final sleep by a blurry, muted guitar and vocal storm straight out of Tim Hecker's weather library, a leviathan drum barrage storms the castle, waking up every part of the brain. The triumphant finish is, quite frankly, awesome, and it lasts just long enough to have me pine for it again another hour later after going back to the beginning.
Based in the Netherlands, this is a band filled to the brim with expert musicians from around Europe (some of whom do time with the Mount Fuji Doomjazz Corporation). They've written a nocturnal opus that excels at sounding completely independent of its creators. This is deft song craft, familiar and foreign; a kind that romances the darkness as well as the listener. Each part is meticulously placed and recorded, and the album on whole sounds organic and completely natural. More than anything, the band have a deep respect for the listener's space. Avoiding shouting for our attention, The Kilimanjaro Darkjazz Ensemble serve as shadowy midwives, allowing our own minds to take the next step toward being reborn.
-Nayt Keane