Album Review - Downwelling by Not Waving & Dark Mark

            A Google search for “melody vs. rhythm” and some quick reading on the foundational definitions of music; that is what I found myself engaged in halfway through my first listen to “Downwelling”, the latest release from Not Waving.  The compositions of ambient electronica and sometimes cacophonous street sounds and rattling cans provide a perfect backdrop for the lyrical work from the depths of the larynx of Dark Mark, the credited persona of vocalist Mark Lanegan, and the real reason I found myself engaged with this work in the first place.  But those same compositions also quickly begged the basic question “What is music at all?”, which may be all Alessio Natalizia wants to do with his experimental collection of sounds.  The idea that these minimalist compositions can constitute a song, in any sense that we are mostly familiar with, is quickly put to rest by the skillful interplay of the vocals and instruments, but it is also an idea that never quite leaves the listeners mind.

            The dichotomous dissection of any familiar musical fabric is brought into stark relief by the irony of opening a musical collection with a track titled “Signifying the End.” Three notes only accompany the otherwise a cappella vocals, which are themselves presented with some of the smoothest and subtlest tones that the otherwise gravely voice of Mark Lanegan can offer, before the whole thing delves into a place of dreamlike echo and a soft synthesized hum.

The next track, “City of Sin” opens with the more familiar guttural growl of Mark Lanegan asking “Whose that come a-running?”, his words quickly accompanied by the shedding of chains and the quickening pace of keyboards.

            A purely instrumental track is like a palate cleanser before the more percussive amplifications of “Burned Out Babylon” which, with its industrial underbelly bared, could conceivably pass for a remix of a decades earlier track from The Mark Lanegan Band album “Here Comes That Weird Chill”.

            “The Last Time Leaving Home” wraps up what must be the first side of the LP version with a rolling synth hum that invokes waves lapping the shore and washing away any remnants of doubt that you’ve come to inhabit another world through this doorway of sounds. “Persimmon Tree” reflects the album opener in tone, with softer vocals and keyboards, as well as in subject, focusing again on the idea that there is much about the world that will outlast each of us and indeed, humanity as a whole. 

            If “Persimmon Tree” gives us the notion of a world without human interruption, “The Lights of Canopus” takes us directly into the post-apocalyptic city and sets one up for quicker pace of “Murder in Fugue”.  Whether the fugue in question is musical or psychiatric is yet to be determined.

            At nearly nine minutes, “Broken Man” closes the experience with questions of redemption, guilt, hope and forgiveness that seem to be taken straight from the biography and work of Lanegan himself.  And as the first single released it will likely serve to bring devout fans to the album where, aside from questions of musical conception, they may also find themselves asking if there is any product this man can’t raise to new heights with a voice as deep as the ocean.