Spooky.

Album: Delirium Cordia
Artist: Fantômas
Genre: Dada Metal/Ambient Terror
Year: 2004
Label: Ipecac

I’ve been wondering about writing recently. Specifically, I’ve been wondering if I, being a fairly competent writer can, on a whim, write an excellent piece of music review or if I need some kind of divine inspiration. I’ve had moments of intense inspiration and these have lead to some of my better works. At the same time, when I write without having had one of these moments, I still manage to bang out some kind of paper. Usually, those are pretty good too. You’re probably wondering what the point of all this is. Well, I’m now wondering if having a nightmare can count as divine inspiration. I think I’ve been gearing up to review this album for a while now, and having a nightmare seems like the perfect sign that it’s time to do it.

Fantômas is Mike Patton’s main band. I’ve already wrote about them at length during my previous job (ha ha), and that piece of writing is floating around on the internet somewhere… anyway, on to the album. Each Fantômas album is centered on a different theme and this one’s is a doozy. “Delirium Cordia” is like the soundtrack to an unmade horror film, dark, ominous and filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. The theme this time around is surgery…without anesthetic. Whereas previous Fantômas albums were spastic rides through a realm of jump-cut metal, “Delirium” is a much more drawn out affair. It’s one track long, clocking in at 1:14:17 which makes for a unique listening experience. It’s like a movie with no scene selection, no ability to jump directly to anything, you’re in for the duration. The album begins with the sound of a needle hitting a groove, and then the lights go out and the horror show begins. Operatic, howling vocals, dark ambient stretches and abrupt explosions of noise are the game pieces involved and they are used to terrifying effect. This more than any other Fantômas album drips with Patton’s dementia. Guitarist King Buzzo (Melvins), Bass Player Trevor Dunn (Trevor Dunn’s Trio Convulsant) and Drummer Dave Lombardo (Slayer) all contribute in their own way, but only when and where Patton directs them to and sparsely even then. They do get moments to shine though, like about ten minutes in when Dunn’s bass sludges its way through the slowest and most protracted solo you will ever hear in your life. Another great moment is the jazzy piano piece about sixteen minutes in, sounds very noir, like Bohren and Der Club of Gore.

The album isn’t all ambiance, of course, the dark void from which it emerges is filled with samples (mostly of a surgery going wrong), booming distant drums and more creepy sounds than Wes Craven can shake a stick at. As the album goes on the sense of dread builds and builds until eventually it peaks and all we’re left with is the sound of a record skipping…for the last twenty minutes. As I said before, the album is like a soundtrack to an unmade horror film. The exact nature of the film seems like this; a man goes in for surgery and when he goes under, he awakes in a nightmarish version of his reality where bizarre and horrible things happen. Meanwhile, the doctors race furiously to save his life. Cliché? Maybe, but when you reach the end of the album, it’ll be up to you to determine whether or not the man escapes his nightmare and lives, or succumbs to it and dies? I’m not sure which; I guess I’ll have to see the movie.