When a band opens their album with a track that clocks in at nearly half an hour, you know they aren’t messing around. When it happens to be the first release by an unfamiliar name, you have to wonder if the musicians involved aren’t contemplating career suicide. That said, ‘Chromosphere’ – the huge sound collage that opens the debut album from sonic experimentalists Droni Eye Omi – is absolutely superb.
Brad Frye (of stoner/sludge metal band Red Mesa) and guitarist Ronaldo Baca really immerse their audience within arcs of sound from the very moment the recording opens. From a wall of feedback, distorted waves of guitar set up a dirty tone, almost as if a sludge metal band are tuning up, and from within those waves of noise, a second guitar cuts through intermittently with a more traditional use of feedback. This improvised cycle continues throughout the first six and a half minutes, after which, a small shift into quieter feedback loops brings more of a traditional drone feel. The solo guitar occasionally even feels as if it’ll float into silence, only to be rescued by a second howl, then to be dragged back into a pleasingly swampy sound. Approximately two minutes later, a piercing tone cracks through a distorted backdrop that’s so loud, you’ll hear your speakers trying not to collapse under the weight of the noise.
After dropping into a traditional piece of feedback at around ten minutes and balancing that with a couple of heavy chords around thirty seconds later, the more patient listener should get a sense of a huge sonic change, even if the focus on shrill tones can feel hard going. The way those tones are later used to create sounds that waver between the siren-like and dive bombing tones actually gives this massive piece one of its first highlights, before the return of a sludgy tone suggests a return to the formative musical sketch. Around eight minutes later, the wall of distortion breaks to reveal a second tone with more of a traditional drone feel, occasionally hinting at something bigger, only to slunk back into the rear. A massive howl of noise fills the last few minutes, which coupled with extra drone that sounds like a billion infuriated bees have been recorded and then fed through an enormous amplifier, creates something really intense, before crashing out with the help of a pulsing chord and high toned feedback. This might be hard going in places, but certainly doesn’t wuss out in terms of reaching a natural climax. Nor does it sag midway; this really is half an hour worth of genuinely intense improv.
The shorter companion piece ‘Black Flare’ runs to just the fourteen minutes, but for fans of minimalist noise/drone works, it’ll be no less interesting. For those who made it through the previous workout, the heavier guitar tone will feel immediately familiar. However, it’s used in a flatter way at first, creating a layer of dark sound as a classic swampy backdrop. From there, feedback tones take on an almost metallic feel, before a stripped back moment allows for piercing tones to take the lead. A few industrial sounding guitar chords soon hint at something bigger, but that “something bigger” never comes. Instead, slightly different howls of feedback come to the fore, and at around the five minute mark, seem set to dominate for the duration. However, as with all great improvisational fare, the natural flow dictates that things can’t be left to stagnate, and by the eight minute mark, there are a more musical flourishes, adding descending arcs of sound and another wall of feedback, both of which should be enough to make this feel like a full journey has been taken. With some of the most intense feedback appearing intermittently during the final four minutes, you should also get a sense of how loud this recording session would have been. If it’s at all possible, the even more obtuse elements of this piece make it a little harder to get into, despite being half the length of ‘Chromosphere’, but there are still various moments of interest that’ll make it worth the time for drone fans and for listeners whose interests lean towards more experimental.
This takes the idea of using a side project to create something different to its most extreme. If you’ve previously associated Ronaldo with Flemenco guitar work, you’ll certainly be left wanting, and there isn’t really anything here you’d liken to Red Mesa, unless you assume there are bits here that sound like that band’s song endings at their most intense, then vastly expanded into distortion driven works. It also says something about the freedom to record and release something you know isn’t designed for a mass audience when you run the record label and do your own PR. To call this marginal would be an understatement. Despite having absolutely zero commercial potential, this recording exists somewhere between Neil Young’s ‘Arc’ and the wilful sounds of Sunn :))), firmly in the knowledge that there will be a few drone devotees that’ll absolutely lap it up.
April 2025