The Knife Music Snobs Inc. A collection of expert witnesses making sweeping generalizations about the scene. Facebook Talk to The Knife A few years ago in a dimly lit living room in Bangalore, amid an assembly of projectors and new friends late at night, Rahul Giri would meet Tanvi Rao. Lounge Piranha guitarist Abhijeet Tambe would host these mini house parties, periodically throwing into a room an abundance of burgeoning talent, and they subconsciously became the messing­around ground for a sub­scene. Vocalists met producers met writers met opera singers, and into the early hours of the morning, collaborations would appear and disappear, occasionally leaving behind something that would last far longer. Those nebulous evenings caused the intermingling of some of the most spectacular music in the country­ illustrated alt rock from Lounge Piranha, volatile operatic­pop from Sridhar/Thayil, fragments of future psychedelic bands, and the evaporative electronica of Sulk Station. Till You Appear is mellowdramatic/downtempo act Sulk Station’s long awaited debut, a sweeping fifty minutes of rainwashed music that slowly drips blue­grey all over your surroundings. It’s been on loop since its release four days ago, we’re all waiting to get sick of it, but it just isn’t happening. Giri has built an ominous castle of echoes to surround Rao’s glassy vocals, a crystalline presage. With its recurring themes of lostness, Till You Appear soundtracks an unhurried yet frantic timelapse of a life spent in yearning. By virtue of its own distinct sound, different music exists at different altitudes; rock and roll was always closer home and earthly, dirty when at its best. Electronica had the inherent ability to be pretty and ambient in a way that lonely guitars couldn’t, until it grew to include the Transformers­farting that passes as mainstream music these days. It is the most dehumanizing genre of music, and it takes commendable talent to tiptoe beyond prettiness and lace it with intimacy. As for altitude, this is a stratospheric record, also unlike anything produced in this country. This isn’t a singles album with singular highlights, it’s designed to be experienced in its entirety. A continuous set of surreal, dizzying revisitations of places suspended translucently in mid­air; colored by mild anxiety. Effortless, Tanvi Rao’s vocals are descending into octaves you really aren’t expecting. Levitating on her haunting harmonies and sparse minor chords, are lyrical longings and paranoia that signal away from any tranquility apparent at first glance. Giri uses this album to pay homage, to influences he’s loved and learnt from and obsessed over, to Portishead and Kid A­era­Radiohead and James Blake and Jon Hopkins and Massive Attack. And to Tanvi Rao. Till You Appear skitters and breaks, shivers and sparkles, combining the cold eerie screeches of Portishead, the strategic pauses of Jon Hopkins, and the burgeoning warmth from James Blake­y synth sweeps. ‘Take Me Home’ is especially reminiscent of PH in their Glory Box glory days, loungey with a quiet desperation, building into something deliciously menacing. The album opens forcing the listener into a dreamlike state, all words fading into blurs. “Sometimes I see an open window, makes me fear,” and the lyrics of ‘Downlift’ limning a sudden insecurity trail off into a loud, threatening spiral. All through the record, you don’t even notice the transitions from English to Hindi and back, noticing only that you understand. Everything falls into place mid­album and there is breathing space, with the laidback ‘Contentment’, before returning to uneasiness Rao speaks of the sweet sounds in her head, all the while becoming ours. About a year ago, I was driving through hills lining the coast, winding down a mountain covered in verdant tea plantations with a magnificently broken heart. One of Sulk Station’s demos began playing on the stereo then, ‘Bindya’. I believe certain situations can bleed permanently into your perception of a song, and entire atmospheres can be encased in its memory. I’ve listened to The Prodigy while punching someone in the face and I’ve listened to Chopin at the foot of Chopin’s grave. The tea­tinged mountain air and the light from that evening remained trapped within that song, and it felt right. Coming from a city where the weather outside is always perfect, erring perpetually on the side of a slight chill, a city that falls asleep very early, this music is staying up late all alone amidst everything that’s quiet. Buy here, now, do it. Sulk Station’s CD launches in Bangalore on March 9th at B­Flat. Stay tuned for a special essential mix from the band. MAR 4 | URL: http://tmblr.co/ZGghUwHRr7ss FILED UNDER: sulk station (5 comments) 5 Comments The Knife Login Sort by Best Share ⤤ Favorite ★ Join the discussion… Anand Viswanathan • 3 years ago Hey that last line was spot on. Perfect lights out music. 1 △ ▽ • Reply • Share › Sameer Rao • 2 years ago Absolutely bang on.The album mysteriously seems to complement perfectly just about any mood you can throw at it. △ ▽ • Reply • Share › GC • 3 years ago Love the music, love your review. △ ▽ • Reply • Share › Vimal Sing • 3 years ago oh, launching today... :­) △ ▽ • Reply • Share › Bhanuj • 3 years ago The album reminded me of late nights on Bombay terraces, the warm melancholy that hits you at 3 in the morning as the city is quiet and you can no longer drown out the sound of your innermost thoughts. Loving it. △ ▽ • Reply • Share › ALSO ON THE KNIFE WHAT'S THIS? 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