Son Lux’s Bones finds the enigmatic Ryan Lott experimenting with the casualties of deconstructing his sound for something more visceral than earlier releases. Wildly tribal, an introductory listening of the record results in a chasm of Neolithic post rock. On repeat occasions, however, Lott reveals less of a penchant for a Neanderthal groove, and more of a polished answer to the dying gasps of trip-hop.
While there’s an enormous feeling of isolation on the aptly titled album, there’s also a strange unifying feeling of cosmic identity. I don’t buy into vibrations or the cosmos, but for the sake of the record I’m willing to suspend my disbelief. Of course, any of this spacey-ness is reigned in by the fascinatingly archaic sensibility.
The latter half of the album exudes a certain In Rainbows aura, though Lott is not posturing for any Greenwood facsimiles in the near future. As unnerving as it is that Son Lux will provide the majority of the soundtrack to an upcoming adaptation of a John Green novel (See: Paper Towns – July 2015) there’s a great deal of solace in knowing that Bones prefaces an already dubious venture.
What separates Son Lux from the likes of H&M dressing rooms alternative hip-hop muzak is not his disregard for atmosphere (he’s got that in spades) but rather feral approach to the genre. Bones elucidates the brilliance behind a coarse progression of a record sans militancy. This approach seems rather more accessible than the F.O.M.O. club rubbish some try to pass off as an artistic interpretation. Groove with the dissonance, it’ll all work out.