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I have a yoga teacher who starts her classes with forced meditation. It’s forced because nowadays, it’s almost impossible for minds – mine, at least – to be still. She tells us to empty our minds, and makes us sit…and sit…and sit…and sit… Of course, my mind refuses to empty. In fact, it goes into overdrive. It’s cold in here. I’ve got work to do. Why is this taking so long? By the end of meditation, I’m ready to leap out of my skin and strangle her.
Mono can be like that. This Japanese band builds long, achingly patient songs. They’re incredibly, and sometimes frustratingly, dynamic. Their quiet parts often can’t cut through the din of everyday life, like office machinery and street noise. But if you turn up the quiet parts, you risk getting blown out by the loud parts. Classical recordings work this way, too.
Thus, Mono are best heard in isolation, either in headphones or live. They’re loud, yet demand intimacy. I saw them open for Pelican; their mini-tornadoes of sound got lost in the huge concert hall. Later, I saw them open for High on Fire in a club, and they were brilliant. Such a pairing might seem odd, but Mono held their own.
“Yearning” shudderingly climaxed that set. Like most Mono songs, it started small. I knew where it was going – but that doesn’t make cars headed for cliffs any less thrilling. After a bulbously pregnant pause, everything crashed in. It was a K.O. Hit between the eyes, I saw colors. Lights flashed, hair flew, balls shook. Mono kept swinging away, clawing at strings with black metallic heat. (Wolves in the Throne Room came to mind.) I was horripilating like crazy.
The studio version of “Yearning” on Gone: A Collection of EPs 2000-2007 ably captures this power. That’s engineer Steve Albini saying, “You’re rolling” at the beginning. Make time to sit still through its 15 minutes. It will reward your patience.
