recorded/released: 2004
label: Cassatio (WNFM007)
format: CDr
issue: 20 copies
running time: 32:36
aka: Secret Death
01: Nyctohylo
02: Pulsar Revival
03: Lights Out
04: Sky-opener
05: Sneak Attack
06: Falling Apart All Over Again
07: Deonic Moonchylde
08: Lighter Than Air, Deader Than Dust
hmmm... well folks, this one is apparently meant to be the final chapter. i'm honestly somewhat inclined to consider this one as a personal gift to me as opposed to a "release", looking at a few of the song titles as well as the name of this album itself, i'm led to believe this. well, if this is the case, i'm again most certainly glad to be me! again! i already feel a crystalline transcendence radiating from this, and so far i've only listened to 30 seconds of it! i was forewarned that this was headed my way, and i made the due preparations for this event. i even intentionally delayed myself somewhat in retrieving this in order to build up more excitement. but i tell you, dear reader, that on the day i picked this up i could hear the unearthly harmonies of vast choirs of disembodied angelic beings (listen to the end of "love to love you baby" by DONNA SUMMER) singing through the door of my p.o. box before i even opened it. and when, by means of the magic key i opened that door, a strange light like no other light emanated from that hallowed space. like an all encompassing blackness, yet saturated by something with qualities attributable to "light", yet this could only be intuited and not seen. a purifying fire that reduces one to it's most pristine and unadulterated essence, in order to be shot through a most terrifying vacuum like an arrow, to strike its target in the black night and sow the seeds of a new garden in the midst of a sea of sorrow. i bid thee, reader, to reflect on these words before i proceed with this review. welp, the battle has barely even begun, but the war is already won. if you can't handle the fact that i'm extremely biased in favor of this dilly-o then you might as well log off the internet and grab your weep-o wipes and sit in a corner with a warm ba-ba of milk and just whine and howl when you want mommy to change your diaper. "nyctohylo" gets things going with a beat that strangely reminds me of something that would be heard in an inuit shaman's ritual... and, thank the gods, we hear those great heavily effected vocals that we were first introduced to in "bushmeat". when the guitars kick in, it's dark, it's lo-fi, and it feels damn exhilarating. this track drives you, and fortunately it has enough integrity to be obscure and rough around the edges enough to remain beyond the reach of the vulgar masses. pulsars rotate at very fast speeds, and "pulsar revival" finds itself carried along by a rather fast closed high-hat tap. the guitar work on this one comes off to me as very stoic, sort of like the seeker of mysteries gazing upon the ruins of an ancient and great civilization, acknowledging that change is the only constant. then that stoicism turns to a bit of anger and cynicism as wondrous temples are consumed and eroded by the desert sands, but this song ends in a "deep bleep" that makes us think of having died, and waiting to be born again, floating in warm anmiotic fluids. "lights out" has a strange nocturnal feel to it as if it were composed and recorded during those wee hours when most of humanity is deep in slumber. the synth is very prominent here, and the song seems to say "o.k., you've found us, but you must first prove yourself worthy before we invite you to sit at our table". whoa... i think this is something new for CHAPEAU... "sky-opener" has a sentimental and nostalgic feel to it, like sitting alone with a bottle of wine remembering "the way it used to be". this one isn't necessarily CHAPEAU's best song ever, but i think that this one may actually deserve the title of most underrated. hell, i'm sad to see this song come to and end... actually it's sort of a sad song period, and a total success as well. "sneak attack" is a wierd jazzy number driven by high-hat cymbal and faster paced bass-line... maybe like if mr. e. victor c. went back into the 60's and donned an afro-wig and tied herbie hancock up in a closet and hi-jacked his band and added CHAPEAU guitar. hmmm..... it looks like "childhood regression" time with the opening keyboards in "falling apart all over again", another sort of sad-ish sentimental-ish one... it has some more fast-ish cymbals but all in all we again have that nostalgic and somber atmosphere. kind of like looking back to woe-begone days when a sense of security was guaranteed, but now you've gotta fend for yourself. but instead of wussing out you roll up your sleeves and take on life's challenges. sure, it's o.k. to remember those old days of yore with a sad smile, but you gotta move on... CHAPEAU probably has its most "odd-timed" drumbeat in "deonic moonchylde". it will take some time, if even ever at all, for me to figure out what the lyrics to this song are. but "...moonchylde" takes me to a starlit desert oasis at night, hearing the wind rustle the leaves of the date palms and carrying the whispers of ancient voices. "lighter than air (deader than dust)" does an excellent job of projecting an image of sand and dust being mercilously whipped up by the wind into cruel vortexes in the middle of arid desolation with its echoed drums and tranced out keys and guitars... this number most definitely being the perfect closing track for "light pollution". and a perfect farewell track for CHAPEAU. well, if this is meant to be goodbye, i'd rather it be a bittersweet departure such as i feel right now, in the manner of two explorers who just ended an adventure climbing a great mountain, but now they must go their separate ways. thank you, CHAPEAU, for bringing joy and colour to this experience of descending from the more tenuous levels in order to experience what it is to be a human on earth. CHAPEAU, you remind us of those days from before our descent from paradise. be proud, CHAPEAU, thine purpose has been served, and executed with a pride and excellence paralleled by very few. so mote it mother f-ing be. amen.

- M. Duncan (Black Mayonnaise), 2005