As the first song on the new Twin Court EP begins we’re instantly reminded of the dulcet tones of the sadly dearly departed cult hero Mimi Parker. There’s a quality to the reserved, graceful vocal that feels familiar and comforting, like Mimi is still with us, or being channelled through this ensemble.
Very soon, that familiarity is fused with something not so commonly encountered, at least not by us. Almost tribal sounding drums (courtesy of Gondrong Gunarto) and Eastern-influenced additional instrumentation join the fray, and Waves Roll Down takes shape. We’re told that “Waves Roll Down explores both western popular song structure and the Gamelan concept of ‘irama’ (a cyclical notion of musical time)”.
Gamelan is new to me, at least by name. It’s traditional ensemble music of Indonesia —primarily from Java, Bali, and Sunda—consisting mostly of percussive instruments like bronze metallophones, gongs, and hand drums (known as “kendang”). It is rooted in ancient tradition and is central to ceremonies, theatre, and dance. Twin Court fuse this traditional Javanese Gamelan music with Western styles like post-rock and slowcore to create something incredibly unique-sounding.
An acoustic piece rooted in warmth and intimacy, it has a distinctly organic feel to it. Earthy and gentle, the stringed instruments blend with the percussion to build a world of sound. Almost Radiohead-esque in its melody, this is striking, haunting stuff.
Recent single Wildfires is up next. It’s a meditative piece that feels similarly cyclical and swirly. Dreamlike in its structure and emotive throughout, it’s incredibly moving and dramatic. The dark, bassy tones that come in around two-thirds of the way through take everything up (or down?) a notch, adding an eerie dimension to a song that already was rather beguiling and bewitching
Panca Indera is another prior single. It opens with a passage of rebab (an Indonesian spike fiddle, we’re told) performed by warbling elephant (who goes by Christopher J. Miller in his professional capacity as a scholar and educator) and Gunarto’s kecapi (a Sundanese zither). It’s extremely powerful and – whilst we can’t understand what’s being said – it certainly hits home. It feels epic and cinematic, but at the same time, strangely intimate.
Thunder Basin is the last song and brings things to a rather fitting end. Opening minimally, but still mesmerising in its underratedness – it feels like a relative of Sigur Rós song – just as beautiful and carefully crafted as any of the Icelandic legend’s finest moments.
As an introduction to Javanese Gamelan, this EP is spellbinding stuff. And if you’re already familiar with it, then it should represent an interesting take on something ancient, beautiful and well established. This New York ensemble has made something really impressive.
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Written by Kinda Grizzly
