The soundtrack for passing empty skies
Russian folktronica upstarts Poostosh (which is Russian for “an uncultivated plot or heath”, if you were wondering) deliver an ambient and cinematic third album that seems to share as much confidence in its odd misstep as it does its triumphs. Sitting somewhere between inaccessible and unimpressive, ‘Herbarium’ isn’t the album to grab you on the first listen. It barely grazes you, in fact. Almost a contrary, difficult album ‘Herbarium’ gives up the most delight when the least is asked of it, there’s always a new shoot of experimentalism with every listen, through that solid ground of acoustic lines.
The first track ‘Overjoyed To Hear The New Poostosh Album’ is the liveliest and easily the most irritating, a massive shame to squander that brilliant name, bouncy synths jar with the conversational vocal sampling last seen in Julian Plenti’s throwaway ‘H’. Second track ‘Life As We Forgot It’ is the true stylistic start of the album, all tracks that follow contain reminders of this one, and it sees the trio at their most cinematic. If Michael Mann’s Miami Vice had been Moscow Vice then this track could easily have taken the place of Mogwai, the accompanying sounds to frozen rivers and white skies. The next couple of tracks lie in a dazed ambience, a haze only disturbed by the fuzzy, almost Sonic Youth outro to ‘Leprechaun’s Gang’. ‘Birthnight’ bears witness to an oddly Gary Numan turn, while still retaining the acoustic guitars. Dreamy soundscapes are the order of the day for most of the other tracks, aside for the uncomfortable ‘Corneal Abrasion’ and the Godfather-esque ‘La Storia Di Un Ragazzo Che Trovo’ L’amore Ma Perse La Testa’. ‘The Meadow of My Infancy’ threatens the catchy pretension of a Mike Oldfield track but never fulfils the promise.
The paradox lying at the heart of ‘Herbarium’ is that, even as unique as it is on paper, it sounds more incomplete than individual. Sparseness and emptiness surely lay each side of the same path and ‘Herbarium’ takes a wild, swaggering stumble between the two and as much impression is left by what should be there, as what is there. Cinematic it most definitely is, but what is cinematic without cinema? ‘Herbarium’ forever seems in need of something more, even if that is just a film playing over the top of it.
As it is the Moscow band have almost soundtracked Siberia, from its most tranquil beauty to its chilling hostility, even with the odd grey totalitarian reminder of its past, it’s impossibly stark. All there is to do is lie back in the snow, and gaze at the brilliant sky; it feels throughout as though this is what ‘Herbarium’ was intended for.