Djam Karet
Suspension & Displacement
Cuneiform
A swirling drone of lost tones bubbling up from the primordial underlayers of the deep Earth. Recorded in 1991, this dense, dreamy stuff is pretty much timeless. While the floating tones help push the disc’s title, organic percussion and acoustic strings lift the proceedings to another place and ensure none of this will ever get confused with keyboard-saturated ethereal Goth drek. Listening to the ten-minute opener “Dark Clouds, No Rain” is like being in a sacred circle in the middle of post-apocalypse wastelands. The survivors are resurrecting forgotten gods with hand drums as the wind squeezes through the twists and turns of the wreckage all around. Later, those gods come forth in the form of a disconnected and cold instructional tape booming from the ether. While somewhat relaxing on the surface, there’s a gentle, natural air of uneasiness stirred up here. Like core elements of the mind being aroused. If this resembles New Age jargon, so be it. Understand, though, that we’re not talking about Steve Halpern here. This record is truly deep, and easily withstands repeated listens.
