HMOT — There Will Come Gentle Rain
HMOT is a Siberian artist who got his start back in 2012 releasing beat-oriented, dub-based music, but has now refined his style into a kind of esoteric and subtle experimental ambient that would not be out of place on many avant-garde labels. It's a similar transformation undergone by an artist such as Shackleton. There Will Come Gentle Rain is one of two new albums to be released in 2024, a short full length at 35 minutes.
The album opens with a clattering and clamouring of folk guitar strumming, which seems to be engulfed in a chaotic stereo modulation of digital processing, vaguely harmonizing in tune with the guitar. Already, from the beginning, we get a clash of two very contrasted worlds. As the four-minute track progresses, the previous sounds give away to a distant, reverberant randomized scalar melody from an analogue synth and scattered percussive tonguing from some kind of wind instrument. Within 4 minutes, the sound has already become a difficult-to-describe, curious amalgamation of unexpected sounds.
The 2nd piece, "Yağımlı Yamğır Yawır", leans into the synth ambient elements heard on the 1st piece, with elegant chordal pads sketching the kind of thoughtful domestic melodies one might hear on a 90's Autechre of Boards of Canada disk. This style of ambient melody turns out to be a central feature on the recording, underpinning all kinds of closed-mic'd field sounds and instrument improv for the rest of the disk.
We get unexpected female vocals in the 3rd piece, and somehow they seem to harmonize with each of the vaguely structured sounds in the background with their folk-ish melody, proving that even at their most abstract, HMOT is concerned with including subtle tonality and chord progression in a kind of sketched, implied manner.
The 4th track, with the descriptive title "Sharp Razor, Hazel Flower Under My Skin, You Can't See Me Anymore", amusingly has a synthesized imitation of a seagull's call which is almost perfect, awash in a rhythmic stereo panning of rushing air.
The album closes with a marching band cadence on a snare-less drum that grows in intensity and volume as watery wisps of elongated tone emanate from a synthesizer underneath, in one of the longest tracks, the seven minute "Yandım".
The album is well-titled, as many of the sounds and environments feel reminiscent of cool, wet weather. While there is electronic ambience, electronic percussion is never heard, and instrumental sounds abound. The overall experience is lush and organic, existing oftentimes in a world of free rhythm. A satisfying, well-produced experimental soundscape album.