Tilt [CD]

The music here is utterly terrifying, creating an intense and claustrophobic sound that works alongside the oblique lyrics to create a dark and troubling world that deals with fear, murder, terrorism, genocide, assassination and war. The songs aren't necessarily songs, but rather extended, hypnotic ruminations, with Scott merging a variety of styles and influences from classical works, to industrial rock, to ambient-alternative, even world music. The arrangement of the instrumentation is often minimal, growing from strange ambient sounds or atmospheric sound effects, building to a mid-song climax before verging off in a completely different direction for the middle-eight. As a listening experience its both infuriating and mesmerising, drawing us in through the sheer atmosphere and evocation of Walker's lyrics, though, at the same time, disarming us with those strange terrifying sounds and wild instrumental flourishes.

The opening track is gorgeous, acting the perfect introduction to the album by offering us a moment of sublime calm before the approaching storm. It's called Farmer in the City, though the subtitle alludes to the murder of celebrated Italian filmmaker Pier Paulo Passolini, who's film Salo depicts many images and scenarios that could have quite easily come from any of these lyrics. The sound of the song is stunning, with Walker's rich operatic vocals merging with the lush strings of the London Sinfonia, whilst the stark and poetic lyrics offer up images of dark farm houses against the sky and harnesses on the left nail. It's possibly the most beautiful and moving pieces of music created within the last half-century, and is a perfect way to ease us into the more abrasive music still to come.

The Cockfighter is much darker, starting with what sounds like background atmosphere from a middle-eastern mental institution (bringing to mind the dark atrocities committed against Iraqi prisoners at the hands of U.S. soldiers) replete with pounding percussion and a half-whispered/half-moaned refrain... before the song erupts into life with a heavy industrial sound that brings to mind Nine Inch Nails. Once again, the lyrics are dark and seemingly cut-up, with Walker talking about "feathers on the sides of my fingers" before going on to quote from the trials of both Queen Caroline and Adolf Eichmann, which is most apparent in that haunting closing coda, which quotes "...it was the month of July, we had more going out, you were responsible for the rolling stock, I can only repeat, I never saw him in bed, do you know what happened to most of the children, she opened the tent, to take a morsel of air...", which brings to mind the holocaust and a film like The Sorrow and the Pity.

Bouncer See Bouncer is even more extreme, opening with what sounds like someone being electrocuted as part of an interrogation (though it could be the halo of locust as referenced in the later lyrics), building on top of a thumping and hypnotic piece of percussion, to which Walker moans (his deep baritone cracking on the high-notes) bizarre sketches of lyrics that don't seem to make a lot of sense, but yet, capture a feeling and an atmosphere that works well with this uncompromising music.

The rest of the album follows in a similar vein, building gradually to a piercing crescendo, with all manner of bizarre, dissonant instrumentation being layered alongside Walker's rasping, operatic croon, relating lyrics that don't seem to make sense until you study them on repeated listens. The music is always changing, often within the song, going from the kind of slow, mesmerising ambience of people like Eno and Badalamenti, to classical influences like Messiaen and Gorecki... whilst it also could be filed alongside other "difficult" rock albums like Laughing Stock, Metal Machine Music, Soundtracks for the Blind, Metal Box/Flowers of Romance and shares the similarly improvised feel of that self-titled Mark Hollis album. The closing run of songs, particularly Bolivia 95, Patriot (A Single) and the title-track continue the dark and abrasive meditations on the nature of war and desolation, whilst also quoting the refrain "the good news, you cannot refuse, the bad news... there is no news" alongside references to the Gulf War of the last decade, Bogart films and a number of references I'm not going to pretend I understand. The closing track Rosary takes us back to the bleak beauty of the opening Farmer and the City, featuring just walker accompanying himself on guitar and offering up lyrics that suggest something final ("we can save it, we can change it, put it in lines across the room, but we'll never stop it bristling... and I gott'a quit").

Tilt is an album that has taken many, many listens for me to fully appreciate, with the dense and claustrophobic feeling invoked through the music initially seeming quite alienating and off-putting. However, much perseverance and late-night listening sessions have changed my mind and it now stands as one of my very favourite albums.