Neither Here Nor There – Milarepa’s Cave (reviewed by Dave Franklin)

The man who brought you the exploratory and inventive sonic ride that is When Mountains Speak now leads us on a new, but no less exciting and eclectic musical journey. And whilst the free-form, wildly unpredictable nature of the music sees Milarepa’s Cave rooted in the same creative attitude as Steven Clarkson‘s other outlet, it is sonically expanded, with a more diverse set of instruments called on. And at nearly an hour long, there is plenty of time to mix and match and merge those elements in any and every combination possible.

And if When Mountains Speak was increasingly introducing saxophone to their signature sound, here, along with the squalling guitars and the tabla drums, it now becomes a much more focal point. The project title gives us a hint as to the nature of this new path: it is named after a sacred Tibetan Buddhist site, a spiritual theme that, through personal adventure and adversity, has become important in his life.

Although one long, semi-improvised and ever-evolving piece, “Neither Here Nor There” moves through many sonic seasons and musical moods, themes, and ideas seeming to bubble up, be explored, and then changed into something new when they have seemed to have run their course.

If the beats and ever-present pulsing basslines are the oriental-infused bedrock upon which “Neither Here Nor There” is built, the musical landscape seems to wander between east and west, but more often than not feels otherworldly, extra-dimensional, as befits the piece’s title.

Jazz saxophone is stretched into free forms tethered to the song just enough to stop them racing off into the ether; similarly, guitars wander between space-rock delicacy and scorching, scathing alternative jams. Synths add intrigue, whether in the form of ambient undertones, seductive sonic washes, or their own unique, liquid, languid, and luxuriant language. At one extreme, it is art-noise-rock, based more on idea than melody; at the other, it is meditative and melodic. What it is never is predictable.

I think “meditative” is the word. Not necessarily the near-silence and unobtrusive nature you’d expect, but more a sound that, when focused on, helps reset or provoke the mind to think differently, like a full immersion in a floatation tank of noise. Think of it as a sonic Koan, a paradoxical anecdote that doesn’t require an answer but rather stimulates lateral thinking – in this case, everything from the nature of music to the nature of existence itself.