“Each day, time drops a tiny death at your door.” These words, unadorned, open the album and introduce a short poem, whose narrators speak of patience and perspective before returning to the start. The music springs forth from quietude, lush and full of life. Pijn‘s expansive roster includes cello, violin and saxophone, making their sound wider than other post-rock bands; the hints of classicism are set beautifully against the banks of guitars and powerful percussion. With four tracks in 45 minutes, there’s plenty of room to expand, and expand they do. “Our Endless Hours” goes through multiple stages, even adding wordless vocals that eventually support the poem’s resurrection. The sublime closing segment incorporates piano, bass and soft strings.
The only full break is at the set’s center, a nod to the listening experience; the album is available in all four formats. Rising from “Our Endless Hours” is an all-out rocker. “Carved Expanse” isn’t even soft in its breakdown, which introduces an even higher level of energy. It does, however, yield a long, comfortable recession that spans nearly a quarter of its twelve-minute length.
Once the album is flipped, one begins to consider the title. Low Beams of Hope connects easily to “On the Far Side of Morning.” The band calls the album a place “where positivity intertwines with profound melancholy.” The third track reaches a nearly metallic fervor, flexing its muscles before giving a single guitar the spotlight. When the rest of the band re-enters, it’s as if to say, “you do not fight your battles alone.” Closer “A Thousand Tired Lives” doesn’t sound like a thousand tired lives, but rather Dylan Thomas’ rage against the dying of the light.
Pijn has continued to refine its sound since its inception. The transition continues with a bonus EP that reimagines the original tracks, gracing them with a more ambient sheen. The sextet’s diverse lineup enables them to pivot in multiple directions at once. Just don’t call them “Pigeon,” or make any jokes about pigeonholing; their name is pronounced Pine. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 