“An inexorably haunted landscape” best sums up the three hours of noise on these cassettes. If field-recordings of the history that surrounded Chindia Tower were folded and layered into 180 minutes of sound this would be the result. See, Chindia Tower’s construction began under the direction of Vlad III, who is primarily famous these days for his penchant for impaling his enemies. So many that sometimes chunks of Wallachia (the place he was prince of) looked like a forest of rotting carcasses held aloft by a pointy pillar of wood up their backside.
The music that Âmes Sanglantes created as perhaps a sort of eulogy for this particular tract of history is unrelenting: constant, damaged, oscillating noise is layered with paralyzing drones, yelping vocalizations and animalistic howls. There is a distinct sense of being overwhelmed; of being driven at break-neck speed down a horrific path of discovery or rediscovery. Within the blacked confines of these tapes history is treated as a stain that cannot be washed out, that cannot be bleached from memory. It fades over time, but every glimpse of it brings the twisting incorporeal stab of something we wish we could forget and know we should not.
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