The Brudenell Social Club in Leeds is a great small venue (around 300 capacity, give or take) so while the sound isn’t of stadium quality it’s cosy enough and gives a sense of close-ness, for want of a better word, that’s more intimate to me than those larger venues. In this case the support act were a local band called Glissando and the headliners worked to a set comprised of highlights from their latest album and some old favourites.

In the role of support Glissando made a pleasant yet inobtrusive job of warming up the audience for the main event; they’ve been likened to the Cocteau Twins but since I’m not familiar with their material I can’t vouch for that. Anyhow, Glissando are a haunting mix of tolling drums, echoing guitar riffs and otherworldly vocals that feels tender yet vaguely unsettling, in a good way I hasten to add. The convention, if there is such a thing, for ambient/post-rock bands is the lack of lyrical content but in Glissando’s case the vocals are part of the instrumentation and heighten the mood of the pieces. I don’t have an overwhelming urge to buy their records but their live act worked very well indeed.

I’ll admit right off that Mono are hands-down one of my favourite bands and their concerts have a legendary status so I had very high hopes for this. I’ll also admit that I was two pints of ale and a double whiskey for the worse when I walked into the venue and was at the front near the far right hand side of the stage so probably wasn’t in an ideal position for a hardcore audiophile. Nevetherless, the sound they can create is quite something: it veers from plaintive, chiming piano and clean guitars to the tinnitus-inducing wall of sound.

The set opened with Ashes In The Snow, complete with the same faint wailing and tender glockenspiel introduction as the studio version. The live rendition closely followed its recorded counterpart but the obvious appeal of the live experience is the frequency range, in the bass range particularly: stripped of the orchestral arrangement this and Burial At Sea felt more raw and immediate.

I didn’t recognise The Kidnapper Bell but it sat well with the rest of the set; less complex and layered than the more recent songs but in the live setting this isn’t such a bad thing. If nothing else it offered a pleasant surprise for those of us expecting performances of the newer songs and little else. The extra bottom end and presence also lent itself well to Pure As Snow (Trails of the Winter Storm), which started off in the vein of their more restful tunes but built up into an impressive crescendo; the pounding of the percussion gave way to borderline-atonal noise courtesy of guitarist Taka, as he coaxed a maelstrom of digital shrieks from his beat-up Jazzmaster and extensive pedalboard.

Sabbath, another old tune that made a surprise appearance, gave another change of pace with its atmosphere of serene reflection. The following number Yearning is one of the fan favourites and I can see why: the dynamic changes worked even better than they do on record because it allowed such marked shifts in mood. If there’s one limitation to their studio sound it’s the tendency to iron out these volume changes and mix the instrumentation down together; here, Tamaki’s basslines and Takada’s drumming pounded out louder and clearer than they ever did from my hi-fi speakers.

Follow The Map is a bit of a departure arrangement-wise, feeling almost like an intermission piece; even so, in its short (by Mono’s standards) duration this one still does a beautiful job of setting out its own narrative. It happens to be one of my personal favourites too: the joyous finale sounds great with orchestral backing but I was glad to hear the same strength of feeling with just Takada’ drums, Taka and Yoda on guitars and Tamaki on keyboard.

An inevitable yet stunning rendition of Halcyon (Beautiful Days) followed – from what I’ve read, they ALWAYS play Halcyon – and of course closing the set with the tearjerking Everlasting Light. Again, it’s credit to the band in that they can recreate all of this without session musicians or prerecorded samples: the orchestral part isn’t there but the spirit and impact comes across just as clearly. They played out almost exactly how I expected them to but with an extended intro here, a bit more FX pedal tweaking there and the physical expressiveness of the musicians’ performance.

If there were any interviews or signings I must have missed them but I was fortunate enough to briefly meet Taka and Yoda as they caught some air backstage afterwards. During the performance I had a vague sensation that, what with it being the end of the UK leg of the tour, the whole band were feeling a bit exhausted so I was reluctant to pester them with too many questions (I was still feeling overwhelmed TBH). Nevertheless they were happy to return my stammering thank-yous with some polite words and a couple of friendly handshakes – all in all then it was a very special evening.

Setlist

1. Ashes In The Snow
2. Burial At Sea
3. The Kidnapper Bell
4. Pure As Snow (Trails of the Winter Storm)
5. Sabbath*
6. Yearning
7. Follow The Map
8. Halcyon (Beautiful Days)
9. Everlasting Light

*I can’t be sure but I think this could just as easily have been Are You There?.

Their latest studio effort at the time of writing, Hymn to the Immortal Wind, is my favourite so far because of its cinematic, orchestral grandeur but Gone is a neat way of experiencing a cross-section of their sound’s evolution since the tracks are set out in chronological order. Over time the arrangements have become more structured and purposeful; tunefulness is a subjective thing but alongside similar bands Mono lean towards the more sentimental as well as being one that uses the power of volume to get the listener’s attention.

Finlandia drifts in with some ambient chiming noise and a repeated riff performed on one then both guitars as the percussion and bass follow their unhurried lead; a few harmonics and Goto’s signature tremolo picking provide variations on the theme before the inevitable distorted wall of sound carries it but overall it’s the same cyclic melodic figure throughout. What amazes me about this tune is just that: it has one common thread but the use of dynamic changes prevents it feeling too repetitive when serving as an opening track. The fact that a number of bands employ the quiet-loud-quiet pattern to provide an emotional handle for the listener to hold onto is beside the point: the devil is in the details, so when it’s done as beautifully as it is here I couldn’t care less.

Rather than consciously being different from other acts or trying to stand up next to those who inspired them, Mono let their work be guided by the mood or idea at the time…the end result is a journey of sorts I guess. Black Woods is, as its title suggests, atmospheric and significantly darker with brooding arpeggios and quavering chords; the Loud Bit takes a little longer to build momentum and it doesn’t have the firm sense of direction of their later material. The extended coda – quite challenging listening by their standards – is in keeping with their early noise-rock roots though: shrieks of disorientating distortion pan from speaker to speaker, not unlike My Bloody Valentine’s notorious live renditions of You Made Me Realise actually.

Yearning makes very effective use of Goto’s and Yoda’s parallel guitar parts working together to reach a crescendo more gradually; it feels as though their formula is maturing a little because it’s taking on an extra dimension and complexity. It’s one track where Tamaki’s bass cuts through the mix quite clearly – the only criticism I have for their recordings is the way her playing often gets buried in the onslaught of guitars and drums (I suspect their live show is a different story).

Memorie Dal Futuro is a more restful and tender piece that features an aspect that has taken on greater and greater significance in their studio recordings: that of a strings section to add colour and variation to the electric guitar-driven setup. They aren’t the first to use the sweet-and-sour contrast but it’s rarely in this context: the violins, violas and cellos feel integral to the arrangement rather than an addition or alternate version.

As a B-side to the preceding track, Due Foglie, Una Candela : il Soffio Del Vento is both a companion and a contrast by being slightly darker in tone. It’s shorter too, but highlights the manner in which the guitar lines are layered in an orchestral fashion: Yoda’s clear arppeggios drift through Goto’s delay-drenched trem picking to round off that section of the album.

Since I’ve Been Waiting For You combines the guitar and cello very effectively in my opinion, to give a feeling of restfulness and contemplation. What I love about soundscape-y music such as this is the way in which it conveys emotion that is powerful yet somewhat vague; there’s a lot of strong feeling in there but it’s up to the listener to channel it in their own way and find their own meaning in it.

Gone sounds a little Italian in flavour in the intro thanks to the rapid trem picked chords (hinting at their Morricone influences perhaps?) but the background strings soon lift it up, pause for breath for a few seconds, then the wash of cymbals brings in the trademark crescendo which is uplifting yet melancholic, and somewhat overwhelming, before falling into the abyss with a whine of feedback to segue into the next track, Black Rain.

This one starts of quite peacefully but there are dark undercurrents that soon make their appearance; looking at the titles of the rest of the album, originally released as the Phoenix Tree EP, it’s clear as to where the inspiration came from (and if not, The Phoenix Tree‘s cover art certainly will be). Interestingly it has some spoken vocal samples too; in Italian and performed by Uzeda’s Giovanna Cacciola.

Rainbow is a short intermission piece performed by a string quartet; there isn’t much I can say about it apart from the fact that it’s really pretty and hardly sounds like it was written by members of a contemporary guitar band at all. Little Boy (1945 – Future) finishes the compilation in grandiose and intense style: plinking glockenspiel gives way to gentle volume swells, pounding bass, cymbal crashes and ominous feedback that feel like the calm before the storm. Sure enough, the drum beat picks up the pace and the final devastating, eardrum-shredding torrent of fuzz guitar and menacing feedback sees it home.

For what it’s worth I don’t judge music purely from a technical standpoint; that is to say, I value the emotional impact of a piece over the virtuosity involved in the performance. Being able to move your hands faster than other people doesn’t make you a better musician; it doesn’t mean much to non-musician listeners either. This is why I rate Dave Gilmour and Kevin Shields over Slash and Eddie Van Halen, and why I believe Mono’s music is so raw and pure.

Their visceral and painfully loud approach to music isn’t showing off and posturing; it’s getting back to the concepts of melody as used in orchestral/classical while ignoring the contemporary rules of verse-chorus-verse chord structures that have to finish in less than five minutes. It’s all about nailing a powerful sensation with vague sounds, and saying one hell of a lot without singing a word.

The band’s sound is in the vein of Mogwai or God is an Astronaut in that the songs are almost all instrumentals with keyboards and occasional samples woven in between layered guitar lines. Although there are several bands, including the two mentioned above, who fall into the category of atmospheric post-rock or shoegaze this is one of the finest examples I’ve had the pleasure to hear so far: a tender yet emotionally-charged gem of an album that balances experimental guitar noise with staggering orchestral beauty. If it isn’t the best thing we’ll hear in the next twelve months I’ll enjoy being proved wrong.

The relatively short track listing should indicate that this is not a collection of three minute radio-friendly numbers: the promotional info on the official site claims that it was performed “…with a romantic, hopeful narrative in mind,” a sentiment I can easily empathise with. The band have what I understand to be a long-standing relationship with Steve Albini as studio recording engineer, whose approach means that the arrangements maintain a ‘live’ feel which in this case compliments the use of a twenty-eight piece orchestra as backing for the band’s guitar-driven compositions.

Ashes in the Snow opens the record with dueted guitar riffs that are joined by a rising wash of cymbals before the full strings section joins in; in typical post-rock style there’s excellent use of dynamic changes between grandiose walls of distortion and more restrained moments with the end result of feeling as though the nearly-twelve minute(!) piece is telling a story, or charting a journey, with music. While the use of high volume and distortion or a relentless tremolo picking technique might otherwise be challenging or even atonal listening, the blend of electric and acoustic ensures that every minute has a sense of subtlety and harmony.

Burial at Sea also starts with a quiet, clean guitar line and takes things into less dramatic but, as the title suggests, somewhat darker territory. The orchestral aspect works wonderfully here to colour the plaintive guitars and booming drums, picking up in tempo during its second half with a crescendo that exploits the sonic characteristics of both to the full. Things take a more gentle and restful turn with Silent Flight, Sleeping Dawn in which piano, flutes and harpsichord carry the track through most of its six minute duration.

I love the way that in Pure as Snow (Trails of the Winter Storm) the two sparkling, melancholic guitar parts create a sensation of instrospection, followed by a gradual build-up into something more powerful and epic, as if it’s the soundtrack to a film that doesn’t yet exist; the plaintive shrieks of distortion and feedback keep a low yet still noticable profile to give a feeling of intensity tempered with sweetness and order in chaos. Needless to say the choices of song titles are evocative but also very descriptive!

At less than four minutes in duration Follow the Map is the shortest on offer here but it’s one of the highlights of the album for me. The piano is accompanied by a reverb-drenched guitar reminiscent of Dave Gilmour, the strings echoing the piano to paint a soundscape of heartfelt emotion: hope, longing, loneliness and reunion. Incidentally the abstract promotional video to accompany the song reflects its intentions.

The Battle to Heaven is closer to what I recognise as Mono’s signature sound; the orchestra sitting a little lower in the mix and the fuzz-laden guitar chords featuring more prominently. The great thing is, even when the music itself – as opposed to lyrical content – is relied upon to maintain the listener’s interest, it never once feels boring or repetitive. I’ve actually had this album playing at least once on my hi-fi for a week and it still hasn’t got even close to wearing on me. Gone required several listens to warm to it but Hymn to the Immortal Wind sounded fantastic from the get-go and still does, however often I play it.

The very title of Everlasting Light gives an impression of hope and optimism, as hinted at by the bittersweet tinkling piano that makes up the introduction; the atmosphere is buoyed up by the trem-picked guitars and a faint presence of strings in the background. The band and orchestra join together in a joyous, eardrum-shredding yet somehow heart-wrenching crescendo to give one of the most uplifting but simultaneously tear-jerking finales to any recorded musical performance I’ve ever heard; the guitars offer a contemporary edginess while the orchestra’s contrasting association with classical gives an end result that sounds new, yet is somehow timeless.

Are the titles, and the feelings they evoke, part of an overall concept or idea? I’m honestly not sure. I do have a fascination with the inlay booklet of every album I buy though, which means I pay a lot of attention to the artwork and content of the sleevenotes. In the case of Hymn to the Immortal Wind each track has a fascinating short story or a few paragraphs of descriptive text, courtesy of a Heeya So, whoever she may be. The content fits the sentiment of the music itself, should you take the time to read it (I recommend you do).

On reflection, and repeated listens, I still feel the need to say that this is indeed the best new album you are likely to hear this year: it makes me feel as though I’ve had my heart broken and mended again. Superlative stuff.

Track listing

1. Ashes in the Snow
2. Burial at Sea
3. Silent Flight, Sleeping Dawn
4. Pure as Snow (Trails of the Winter Storm)
5. Follow the Map
6. The Battle to Heaven
7. Everlasting Light