Written by Nikolai Dineros
There is this inherent pressure for concept albums to be atemporal. Perhaps rooted in misinterpretation, the idea of a concept album being similar to that of an odyssey revealing gospel truths of whatever musings its creator has willed into existence. What follows usually is a prophetic candor reaching apocalyptic scales. Dark Horse’s debut album ‘Spirituals’ challenged my idea of a concept album.
Behind ‘Spirituals’ is an ensemble from two major players in the underground — and I don’t mean any local music scene. Renowned author and alternative culture connoisseur Karl De Mesa and Ronnel Vivo of the Vivo Brothers fame (known for Basalt Shrine, Dagtum, Sound Carpentry Records, atbp.), among others, join forces to create this brooding experimental doom folk project.
The production of ‘Spirituals’ showcases the duo’s mastery of dread. Despite his proclivities and inclination for heavy sounds that demand your full attention, Vivo’s presence in ‘Spirituals’ is more understated than in his previous projects. This time, he plays a complementary role, taking charge in creating the needed ambience that gives De Mesa’s performance the urgency and biblical breadth fitting for an album that is more prose than a technical display of musical proficiency.
The name Karl De Mesa is one linked to horror, more so the banality of it in the life of the everyday Filipino. Anyone familiar with his body of work would know his affliction for themes of family and resistance.
The album’s single “Comrade Buddha” revisits this common Demesian trope, as explored in his earlier essays found in “Report from the Abyss.” More succinctly, a postmortem reflection of an ideal or a past, more formative self that bore witness to such tumultuous events. Binding spirituality and armed resistance and weaving it into a perturbed hymn is just the cherry on top, further displaying the masterful duo of De Mesa and Vivo.
Meanwhile, “I Offer Pslams” finds the author recounting his memories in specific places, paying tribute to his mother in a solemn act of devotion. The album’s denouement, “Airwaves (A New Song of Darkness),” carries an oppressive air that leaves the listener in a claustrophobic state, as supplemented by Vivo’s scornful production work.
These are just two examples of how De Mesa reveals himself in his writings; it is no surprise that these characteristics would bleed into his music. And not to mention, “I Offer Psalms” and “Comrade Buddha” are two of the highlights from this album. The other tracks, however, all follow the same pattern: tirades of cataclysmic scales interwoven in layers of cryptic wordplay – some are piercing, some barely scrape the epidermis.
With all that being said, ‘Spirituals’ left me with more questions than answers. First, the album did not leave us with a satisfying conclusion to ascertain its connection to De Mesa’s past works, perhaps by design. What does the concept of an album say about the ever-changing state of the artist? Does it hold water when challenged by time and circumstance? ‘Spirituals’ approaches ideas in albums not like the be-all-end-all I may have mistaken them to be. Rather, it takes a larger-than-life concept (that is, De Mesa’s encyclopaedic knowledge of the systemic horrors he grew up with) and shrinks it to the size of a ball — a small yet dense ball.
It might take me forever to parse every line, every subtext in Dark Horse’s debut album in connection to what I know of the artists involved in this project, how Vivo interpreted and translated these messages into sound, and how ideas can be tackled and revolved around by artists pursuing such ambitious endeavors. For now, I am satisfied with the knowledge that ideas are temporal. There are no hard-and-fast rules in creating art that stands the test of time — or even if they should. Whether ideas are reflective of the artist’s current state of mind, the connection ends the next time they hold the pen.
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