Paranaut - The Hills Fell Silent Indie By Jesse Lynch

I have a problem. And no, it's not that sticky rash thing, I got some ointment for that. The problem is that, when listening to Paranaut's new CD, The Hills Fell Silent, I see things. How is this different from my normal state of mind? Well, instead of the usual razor fanged demons and talking chairs, I see a distinct and alarming world; the world of Paranaut.    It goes something like this: A barren, winter swept mountainside. Leafless trees dead or dying. The air so biting cold you can see it. There's a campfire, warming nothing more than itself. Around the campfire, defiant to nature, men pound instruments that look more like weapons. The music swirls dynamically; sometimes fast and aggressive, other times mournful and hypnotic, often a mixture of both. Tribal and animalistic, the music challenges the very mountain itself. Sporadically, a wild haired mountain man stumbles into the circle and bellows his angst with the world. The words are less important than the raw emotion that tears at his vocal chords. A few disconnected utterances and then he fades back into the gloom until he feels the need again.    Sure, I could talk about the mechanical aspects of the music. Even in its detuned heaviness the recording is clear enough to hear all the notes. The songs seem to fit together like a well written story. There are so many different layers to the songs that if you don't use headphones you're probably missing out. But these things don't really describe it. The Hills Fell Silent is about as close to music as art that I have heard in awhile. The only way to really get a sense of it is to listen. So get a CD. Better yet, get a CD and catch them live, then you'll be set.    www.myspace.com/paranaut

Copyright © by Crave Magazine All Right Reserved.

Published on: 2006-08-26 (896 reads)