MONO‘s debut album, Under the Pipal Tree, was released in 2001. This year they reach their silver anniversary. Few bands get to this point; even fewer remain relevant, and fewer still continue to release their best work. MONO’s finest albums are scattered throughout the young century, and we suspect time will prove Snowdrop to be among them.
Snowdrop is MONO’s first album in years without longtime producer and friend Steve Albini, who passed away after completing work on OATH. While he cannot be replaced, his worthy successor is Brad Wood, a friend of Albini known for his work with Smashing Pumpkins. Given the circumstances, one might expect the new music to be mournful, but it sounds more like a celebration of life.
Over the course of their career, and most notably on 2009’s “iconic” Hymn to the Immortal Wind, MONO has embraced orchestral elements in their work. Snowdrop is graced by the presence of a ten-piece orchestra and an eight-member choir. Everyone gets their time in the sun. But leading off the set is the title track, which one can only call classic MONO: a long, slow build, filled with pensive guitars and keys: 2:28 of mood setting before the first of many eruptions. Hearing the drums rush in, one feels the surge of euphoria that accompanies only the best post-rock. With nothing left to prove, MONO continues to occupy the top tier. Brass enters in the fifth minute, followed by an even more massive rush of guitars; then to no one’s surprise but to everyone’s delight, a short denouement highlighting the quiet-loud-quiet.
In contrast, “Winter Daphne” leaps from the gate with pounding drums, surging guitars and a sense of excess, then softens after two minutes have passed, only to build again. As the album’s first single, it’s a wonderful introduction to the world of Snowdrop, charismatic enough to attract new fans. Glissandos fall like stars as strings serenade the night sky. When the wordless choir enters, the entire project ascends.
“Gerbera” may start with strings, but the track belongs to drummer Dahm Majuri Cipolla, who lays down a rhythmic introduction before falling silent, returning with heavy snares. The music builds around him, level by level, expanding to its fullest in the third movement, when the choir reenters and all elements converge, reaching the album’s highest peak. Almost every track is named for a flower or tree, establishing the tone of emergence. From the snowdrops of winter to the Gerbera daisies of early spring to the evergreen ivy “Hedera,” the album follows a distinct trajectory, color blooming south to north. Just as each title honors a different bloom, each piece highlights a new performer; on “Hedera,” pianist Tamaki Kunishi has his time to shine.
“Bells of Ireland” begins with actual bells, bursting through a static field. Kunishi takes up the reins, building a bridge to the strings. This is the perfect placement for the album’s softest, most reflective piece, and here the melancholy finally breaks through. Despite all of the gratitude, there is still sadness, a bittersweet lozenge. MONO cannot, will not end here, but takes this opportunity to look back, tears in their eyes, as the bells toll one final time.
Finally the band says “Farewell to Spring,” the release of Snowdrop coinciding with the end of the season. As they say farewell to spring, they also say farewell to a friend and to an era. And yet, as every drum beat, every guitar chord, every vibrating string announces, now summer is here. The world seems less full without a friend, and yet it is still full, in the same way as a life is emptied by a loss, but overflows with love. The choir reaches for the heavens; the guitars join in cacophony; the invisible angelic choir sings in return. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 