Emme Ya — Chthonic Transmission (Abysmi Vel Daath)

While he spent time studying the Dogon tribe of West Africa in the 1930s, French anthropologist Marcel Griaule was puzzled to discover that they possessed what then seemed far-advanced astronomical knowledge. Thus, they apparently knew that Sirius, the brightest star of our night sky, is in fact a binary system, despite its companion star not being visible to the naked eye and its existence only having been discovered through mathematical calculations. In his 1976 book ‘The Sirius Mystery’, American author Robert K. G. Temple argues that the Dogon inherited this knowledge from the ancient Egyptians who, in turn, had received theirs from extraterrestrial beings. More interesting to the reader, perhaps, is the fact that the Dogon also believe in the existence of a third, yet-undiscovered star in the Sirius system, which they call Emme Ya.

Given the supernatural connotations and general air of mystery associated with its name, it is hardly a surprise that Emme Ya, the ritualistic dark ambient project of Colombian left-hand adept and musician Edgar Kerval, should be the primary vessel of his explorations ‘in the fields of sonic mutations and hybrid soundscapes emerging from astral atavisms experimented time ago’, as the man puts it on his weblog. And quite resolved to spread his vision he is, too, seeing how the band, in only a couple of years, already has quite a slew of albums, split releases and compilation tracks under their musical belt. The latest in the series, ‘Chthonic Transmission’ is being released today on Britain’s premier industrial imprint Cold Spring, marking the second time the band appears on the label’s roster.

Emme Ya’s magick ritual ambient having drawn comparisons with heavyweights such as Herbst9 and Halo Manash, I was quite eager to finally have the chance to give it a thorough listen. Surprisingly, eight-minute album opener ‘The Vortex of Primigenian Sun’, with its infernal cocktail of anguished voices and resonating bells over a distant layer of minimalist rattle and hum, sounded a lot darker than I’d anticipated, reminding me instead of Cold Meat veterans Brigther Death Now and Megaptera. Not a bad thing, of course, but the ritualistic and magical intent of the band seemed lost on me.

Thankfully, the title track that followed proceeded to set the record straight and somehow conveyed the transcendental aspirations of the artist much better than its predecessor, taking the listener into some kind of Laveyan confidence delivered by a choir of metallic voices crying out in despair over the sound of a creepy lullaby-like loop. In other words, it sounded a lot more appropriate for late-at-night, candle-lit star-gazing sessions and thus fit my ether-craving bill a lot better than some horror film soundtrack ever would have.

You’ll be delighted to hear it is a path the remainder of the album manages to tread with rather considerable success, the more subdued and hypnotic material (‘Reversed Kundalini’) complementing the more ominous tracks (‘The Light That is Not’ or the magnificent ‘Descending to Astral Void’) to usually very remarkable effect. Closing track ‘Emerging from the Grey Egg’ rounds off the proceedings in rather admirable fashion, being one of the stronger songs on offer, and acts as some sort of well-rounded compendium of the lot.

Where maybe some albums would have left an undecided or even messy impression, ‘Chthonic Transmission’ seems to thrive on navigating between those two planes of existence, quenching its luciferian thirst in turns from either of the springs spewed forth by this dual well of knowledge, much like some artistic transposition of its binary patron star system. And even if, like yours truly, one doesn’t really care much for all the otherworldly connotations purportedly surrounding the music, Emme Ya’s latest still contains enough monolithic pulsations and eerie soundscapes to satisfy one’s purely musical cravings.