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By Petter Ness

Grapes, Mark Alexander McIntyre’s most recent musical endeavour is a firm and uncompromising piece of ‘screaming silence,’ that at varying moments feels confused and schizophrenic, yet calmly confident at the same time. The album is split into three mutually complementing acts. The first act consists of McIntyre’s lone-wolf-detriment, stripped down to its folk-quintessence; a lo-fi cosmos of tunnel acoustics that reminds one of Charles Manson before that whole murder-cult thing, when he was a more than decent musician. The second act consists of only 1 minute and 34 seconds, but interjects a psychedelic interlude consisting of motorcycles, crying toddlers, roars, pistol-shots and world wars in a wide array of malevolent sounds. “A Birth, A Death, The Dark, The Light” constitutes a turning point from which the album slowly rises to its climax on “Tell Me,” in an electric-organic anthemic orgy. Any frequent listener of Greg Ashley, Tallest Man on Earth, or even Woody Guthrie, will find all the fun and emotional disaster they could ever want in this myriad of sadness, malcontent and, ultimately, beauty.

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