The central point of influence of 夢遊病者 — or at least, the root — is people, real people that once lived, or continue to live…
Recently, when expressing excitement at the revelation of a new 夢遊病者 (Sleepwalker) release, I was asked to give a brief “for fans of” list. Friends, I gotta be honest: I was at a bit of a loss. The band doesn’t really fit any genre box, nor does it boil down to a simple list of influences, at least not for my metal-rotted brain. The best way I can think to describe their work is a symphony for the subconscious. It relies not on nostalgia for others’ art, nor does it compromise for instant gratification of the listener.
…at least up until the band’s latest work, Delirium Pathomutageno Adductum. The vocal performance, while at times still shrouded behind the veil of sleep, takes a much more aggressive role pretty early on. The harrowing wails are cursed with a clarity, a curse that is matched in the conviction of their delivery on opening track “Tongue Arc Orion.” Given the band’s prior history, its like being jarred from a restless slumber as the voice cries out for “revival, survival” with a warbled longing for clarity. For a metal touchpoint, the vocal stylings of Urfaust come to mind.
The music remains untethered directly to others’ art, yet feels very… familiar in the world of 夢遊病者. It’s as though prior works established a pallate to paint with, and Delirium Pathomutageno Adductum is collaging those colors together. The way a particular drum break hits, familiar little licks of the guitar from 一期一会, a key change on a riff from 5772, the luscious soundscapes of Noč Na Krayu Sveta all swirl together on this release. In the world of 夢遊病者, it’s as though these past dreams are being recalled upon “waking up.” The clear vocals reflect the conscious state, and the musical dreams are, like all memories, contorted by the mirror of reflection.
As much as I feel Delirium Pathomutageno Adductum is one of the strongest works in the band’s discography, its importance becomes magnified with the context of their prior recordings. Adding the “jazz” term in any review that isn’t explicitly of a traditional jazz recording tends to lead to an air of pretentiousness, but I can’t help but say it when it comes to 夢遊病者. Their music is an untethered release of the soul, finding the beauty in all that makes us human, grappling in both the conscious and unconscious realms. It continues to live, becoming its own animal–nay, its own tulpa–caught within the gleam of self-reflection. The notable 5:40 limit on each track speaks to the human nature to quantifiably constrain ourselves, to put things within a constant of time to contextualize them: to in some way count the number of heartbeats, the number of breaths we spend toward every moment of our lives–both waking and within the dream world. Every second means something, and whether it’s spent toward remembering or evolving, it’s important that it’s expressed in a way that begs for understanding. That’s all we want, isn’t it? Every story, every memory, every bit of music. To not only be heard, but to be understood–maybe that’s all we ever really desired, even when we’re fast asleep.
