- Planetary Confinement - The
Running Time: 47:15
When is the defining moment of a band's career?
Is it that first rush of pure emotion born from signing a
recording contract? Is it that first world tour, and the
realization that yes, people appreciate your music? Or could
it be the music itself, and that one album that reaches out
and touches people where they live? In the past, Antimatter has kept their fans at arm's length, crafting two somber
albums that stood with one foot on each side of the border
between longing and lost hope.
Planetary Confinement, however, finds Antimatter far
past that border, deep in the realms of loneliness and
Solo piano piece, 'Planetary Confinement' is the perfect
prelude to the pleading 'Weight Of The World'. As much
as this song seeks compassion, it is very much a cold acknowledgement
of the gulf between a lost soul and the rest of humanity.
The gossamer quality to Amelie Festa's voice on 'Line Of
Fire' lends even more fragility to this album, which is
primarily acoustic. The sparse, bare presentation of the
acoustic guitar peels back the layers of sound, leaving
nothing but an open field and empty space. Vocally, 'Epitaph'
is the sound of a voice miles away being heard for the
last time. The line "A portrait, an epitaph." is
a picture of the whole album, really. As real, and as lifelike
as a painting of a loved one or landscape may be, through
it we cannot touch the skin. We cannot feel the grass under
our feet. It's a cold ache, and that is our 'Epitaph'.
Trouble is one of those bands whose material has been rendered "untouchable".
The sorrowed mania of addiction which consumes Trouble's
'Mr. White' (here covered acoustically, and beautifully
featuring Amelie once more) falls headlong into the scathing
'A Portrait Of The Young Man As An Artist'. Easily the
most blunt, straightforward song Antimatter have ever composed,
'A Portrait...' (the title is a clever rewording of a James
Joyce work) pulls no punches, and shies away from the more
poetic tones of the rest of the album's lyrics. Likely,
this speaks more to Nick's belief that the subject of the
song couldn't be intelligent enough to understand subtlety.
'Relapse' sees Patterson lost in regret, using diminished
keys to accent the full-bodied sound of acoustic guitars.
The last song with vocals on Planetary Confinement, 'Legions'
seems as much a send-off as an encouragement to overcome,
which leads us to the desolate beauty of 'Eternity Part
24'. With quiet keys, muted strings, and distant birdsongs,
thus ends Planetary Confinement (and Duncan Patterson's
tenure in Antimatter).
Remember those defining moments I spoke of before? This
is one. Stark, bleeding tears and melancholy, Planetary
Confinement is an album for the unlit hours. Dark night
of the soul, indeed.