In the obscure and bewitching realm of rhythmic noise, This Morn’ Omina is among the most celebrated catalogue entries. Nothing even begins to compare to the experience of this Belgian troupe’s acoustic production – they are visionary musicians on the cutting edge of the style.
It’s been six long years since L’Unification Des Forces Opposantes on Ant-Zen, yet This Morn’ Omina’s reputation among lovers of the genre has not faltered in the slightest. Their productions are heroic in scope and size, the Gilgamesh opus of obscure electronica.
After meeting this wonderful group at Terminus Festival two years ago, I couldn’t be more excited to hear this new album
This Morn’ Omina has a ritualistic quality – worship music for a pagan, sinful technocracy. It is characterized by fiendish drumming, a fast paced tempo cut with distortion that blends wonderfully with the serene underlying melody line, obscure, ululating verses and tribal chants. Mika & Co have a distinct niche in that market, forming a strange aural space of postmodern mysticism.
There is a cabalistic beauty in the fiery tempo of the first CD. It invokes imagery of a taiko drummer troupe sitting atop a post-apocalyptic city’s ruins, praying for the fate of the shattered world. The second disk of the collection slows its pace to reveal a meticulous glimpse into This Morn’ Omina’s pastiche of clipped sound samples. The structural complexity in their music is unrivalled; every minute bell and whisper contributes to the frightful harmony that is their trademark.
The outpour of inspiration in Kundalini Rising is overwhelming. This album has been a long-time coming, and the release is evidently cathartic bliss for the artists as much as for the anticipating audience. It’s a pleasure and an honour to be once again privy to the chimerical output of This Morn’ Omina’s transcendent creativity.