An absurd number of musicians slaying at the same time establishes the phrase “Bigger is Better,” and it’s a satisfying trend.Boredoms flipped New York on its ass earlier this year with 77Boardrum: 77 drummers jamming at once with results similar to the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Another mind-numbing event was the Nuit Blanche Festival in France, concocted by experimental composer Rhys Chatham, featuring an opus of 400 guitars playing simultaneously. After experiencing A Crimson Grail, previous albums described as ‘epic’ pale in comparison; while not the balls out rock of 77Boardrum, the effect is similarly breathtaking.

Chatham merges the chaos of 400 guitars into a focused arrangement over the course of three movements around twenty minutes each. Each wave-like song creeps towards a crashing pinnacle, a deafening tsunami of rumbling drone—the perfect soundtrack to late night vice and noisy neighbor retaliation. Constricting the sound to headphones is a slap in Chatham’s face and in certain countries results in 3-5 years imprisonment. The work is carefully controlled, and through the grandiose wailing the guitarists never lose their cool, maintaining a thick sound without the suffocating buzz of other harsh ambient releases.

“A Crimson Grail: Part 1” flexes its muscles for the first half in preparation for a shimmering climax; guitars test the water’s edge and let the rest of the gang know it’s all right to play. Layers of fuzz whirl repeatedly over the previous series of notes, building over and over into a stirring crescendo. It’s almost maddening in height, a towering barrage of glorious noise filling the room that makes you want to scream out and cut the tension. Next up, “A Crimson Grail: Part 2” broadens the tone with drifting notes and a solo drummer setting the pace via hi-hat. Guitars spread out and the blob of noise we heard earlier takes on an individualized sound where serrated harmonics accentuate each measure. The hi-hat picks up speed and the harmonies come together in a hazy glow that distorts and swells until the tracks culmination, the drummer launching into a frenzy to quell the midnight din. “A Crimson Grail: Part 3” takes the last half of “Part 1” and distorts it into a sludgy landscape of drone that stretches for fifteen minutes ending with a gorgeous crest. Deliberately slow pacing makes the transformation from silence difficult to track, and the eventual caterwaul crashes into the listener like a renegade semi creeping closer in a rearview mirror. The 400 demons return with a knockout punch, a monstrous fuzz with an eerie core. The audience yell their praise: with ears bleeding from the symphony, screaming primal rage over the rolling bliss, they’re released from the hypnotic spell. That’s how I picture it at least.

I can’t speak highly enough for A Crimson Grail: it’s an incredible work of minimal ambience, the highlight of Rhys Chatham’s career. Aside from how striking it sounds, there’s also the events cultural and historic significance. Perfectly orchestrated, A Crimson Grail sets the bar for future mega-concerts, and opens up infinite possibilities. A staggering work of beauty that’s one of the years best release.

-James Anaipakos