Built on sporadic percussive takes and blistered textures, Chance Of Rain plows through unintelligible forms — all bones but no structure — struggling to establish itself as material: techno made of wreckage.
On Chance Of Rain, her second LP, she loses the vocals and lets her machines do the talking. It doesn't feel like a wholesale artistic reinvention, but it does show Halo edging away from the abstract nature of her early records towards something tougher and more immediate.
Chance Of Rain careens through a dance chicane, weaving between the lands of pop excess and minimalist ambience; it's never still for long enough to be fully pigeonholed, merely slotting partially into pigeoncaverns (which are much larger).
In spite of her project’s ever-changing wavelength; she sees the capacities of electronic music, and wonders what it takes for it to exist at all.
As its title implies, Chance of Rain hinges on uncertainty and fluctuating pressure, not outpouring. It’s impersonal, then, but never inhuman.
Plainly speaking, this is psychedelic music, and it’s music that’s both moving and a pleasure to move to.
Thrillingly, its very minimalism highlights sections of Laurel Halo’s canvas left blank – intentionally, you suspect – and crying out to be filled by the listener. Accept that invitation: Chance of Rain has vision and scope to spare.
When the album finds a moment of peace—like when the title track dissolves into a simple, noir-ish outro—it feels forged. Craggy and hard as hell, you'll wish Chance of Rain forged a few more such moments, but its consistent, nagging ability to knock you off balance is worth wrestling with.
What Chance of Rain does, more so than any of Halo's work, is create a sense of liveness and immediacy that doesn't diminish with familiarity.
Chance of Rain is a murmuring storm of alluvial drones and steady percussive patter.
Vocal-free, ‘Chance Of Rain’ sees Laurel Halo once more stepping back behind the sounds of her machines, but it’s the depth of those sounds that speaks volumes.
Halo's voice is never heard -- likely a relief for those who found Quarantine too unsettling -- but this is about as jolly as the cover illustration, drawn by her father.
On Chance of Rain she pushes those boundaries into territory which is alien and clockwork, only approximating anything human or organic with vague stylistic references.
Aiming for a more conventional sound, Laurel Halo has made an instrumental techno album that still carries a lot of her musical quirks. It's obviously not as personal or as freakishly disorienting as her previous album, but by mixing in elements of musique concrete with techno, she has proven once again that she is an incredibly talented producer that follows her own path.
1 | Dr. Echt 1:37 | 73 |
2 | Oneiroi 7:34 | 84 |
3 | Serendip 6:28 | 80 |
4 | Chance Of Rain 7:35 | 73 |
5 | Melt 2:19 | 77 |
6 | Still/Dromos 3:50 | 68 |
7 | Thrax 5:55 | 77 |
8 | Ainnome 7:13 | 70 |
9 | Out 1:29 | 70 |
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