You've heard of guttural singing, but what about guttural albums? Kathryn Mohr puts us under a dark spell with upcoming release 'Waiting Room'. She not only puts into the world something from deep within, but also absorbs the environment around in a unique full circle process. The Oakland-based artist self-recorded this 11 part performance in a one month period spent in eastern Iceland. This opus was birthed in a windowless concrete room, lit with a string of multicolored light bulbs (which made their way into the album art), located inside an old fish factory in Stöðvarfjörður. However, whilst it may have been birthed in a veritable cell, this Icelandic stacking doll piece knows no borders.
It opens on 'Diver', which sets the tone with an ethereal sound. From the start we can feel the world around us, without necessarily being able to identify what part we are listening to. It remains enigmatic with its crackling and atmospheric sounds at the forefront. Mohr’s softly sang voice seems untouchable, behind a veil. We can feel in it her wanders around the shoreline, recording furtive moments through sounds.
'Rated' then takes us by surprise, teaches us to expect the unexpected with its distorted and doomy feel. We are looking for something without any distinct goal in mind. The inspiration Mohr takes from horror comes through crystal clear on this unsettling piece, and it also brings both industrial and new wave elements with a dark synth underneath. The isolation of the tiny fishing village transpires, bringing about feelings of want throughout.
'Driven', the lead single of the album, is refreshing and ruminative. The strong bass seems to be guiding it, allowing more lyric-driven, clear singing to take up space. Those feelings of want becoming stronger and turning into a languid rhythm. We are in the waiting room, where time seems to expand in a hallucinogenic manner. It has a cinematic quality to it, bringing to mind a non-descript indie film about love, choices and (bad) decisions.
'Petrified' continues in the same vein with a haunted indie folk twist. The loop rhythm on the guitar, intentionally out of tune, adds to the distortion and atmosphere. Everything is slightly out of place, and just enough to make you wonder how you feel without giving anything away at first. This is enforced by her voice being sat in the background, as if drowning and losing control.
We enter a surprisingly grungy track in 'Take It', its gritty vocals and levelled guitar are reminiscent of an early Pretty Reckless sound. The distant vocals echoing in our heads almost feel like voices whispering in our heads, under the chaotic umbrella of everything that's happening. We end on an out of tune guitar fading away, which brings us on perfectly into the next piece.
With a very distorted riff, 'Elevator' begins. As it does, the sound of static does too, like headphones starting to break. The mix of genres fascinates just as the atmosphere does, reminding the listener in part of a Nine Inch Nails instrumental. but with a hint of punk singing. It is both hectic and languishing. When talking about this song, Mohr evokes PJ Harvey and early Hole influences, finding herself deep in reverb and dissonance. But what about the origins of the song? The artist highlights how desensitised people can be as “Young people are exposed to all sorts of media, without reason or care. It’s the same in life – you never expect what will happen next or how horrible it might be. One second you’re watching a nature documentary, the next moment autoplay is showing someone getting their arm ripped off in an elevator. The unexpectedness of horror, how it’s thrust upon you, imposed, by other people, governments, personal demons, algorithms or pure chance is shocking to me.”
The logical continuation is the song 'Prove it', which presents different piano keys, all out of tune, starting off the track. The strong distortion reminds us of ice cracking, before distorted chords are tested within the song's body. We're trying to find our footing, trying to find a melody on unstable grounds, which seems to continue through 'Horizonless' in a hushed shadow under a doomy guitar. We may have found a melody, but it does not seem to have distinctive lyrics, only sounds, until they fade away.
That is, until 'Cornered' shocks us awake with static and a phone ringing, before going to an automated message letting us know that the number is not attributed. The horror creeps in again, eerily similar to an old tv or radio but not quite the same, instead it may be the sound of some program happening, or recording being made. There seems to be life but we can’t be sure, as there is a clinging feel, like someone being active around the house. Despite being the second longest track on the LP, it contains no singing. That goes to show just how important atmosphere building is in Mohr’s universe.
We are once again caught by surprise with 'Wheel', which has an almost Lacuna Coil-like quality in its rhythm, with some parts being almost spoken. It is in line with 'Take It', but has a very different vocal style. Here we are in a more exhausted version, singing as if it’s a last breath. But Mohr keeps trying one more time until the last song, the title track, 'Waiting Room'. The owls sing this song open, inviting what feels like a distorted organ in. There is a notable echo in the singing, summoning all the horror past to create a haunting and ethereal finale. We keep on waiting for something without being sure what. This vortex ending spirals us in drowning screams and broken records.
'Waiting Room' is a catharsis of emotions, spaces, destruction and rebuilding. It carries affection, pain and reinvention of self. It confronts the violence of the human nature, but also our ability to love. By creating a dream-like space, Mohr gives us an opportunity to question and explore for ourselves without direct threat. She pulls herself out of the waiting room to let us question it, as well as to consider what might crawl out of the shadows when there is nothing and no one to distract us. Trust us, this album is worth a listen.
'Waiting Room' will be released on January 24th via The Flenser.
Words: Lysandre Pons
Photo: Senny Mau
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