As alternative rock began to lean into the electronic stylings of albums like Radiohead's Kid A and The Notwist's Shrink leading into the Y2K scare, some bands bent genres in brand new ways, introducing a decade of new post-rock music that felt organic, melancholy, and cold. Perhaps one of the coldest, most heart-wrenching works among the post-rock canon—alongside masterpieces like Talk Talk's Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock as well as Bark Pyschosis' Hex—is Hood's 2001 release Cold House.
Incorporating glitch and indie hip-hop, meandering guitars, brushed drums, and the lull of the occasional violin, Cold House's brilliance lies in its ability to fit the formula while bending it in every direction (without breaking it). With such highly emotive instrumentation spanning 10 modest tracks, you'd expect an album cover of similar (visual) magnitude.
Prepare to be a bit disappointed.
While I must admit that I do appreciate the blurry, bleak photograph the artist chose to communicate the frigid atmosphere the album evokes, the typesetting is terrible (read unnecessary). The idea of gazing out a window at a baron landscape just out of focus is really all the cover needs to illustrate to be effective...but perhaps not enough to be beautiful to look at while listening.
As I listened to "Branches Bare" (perhaps my favorite track off the album), I kept thinking about just how dark the song really is. From the screeching strings to the painful message behind the lyrics laying bare the torment of death and loss, the darkness is nearly all-encompassing. Without the flickering vibrancy of the sonic elements comprising each track, and the way they seem to melt into each other like organic matter encompassed in flames, the album might be too dark, too bleak, too cold to endure.
To better illustrate this tension between light and dark, hope and despair, elegance and grime, I chose to incorporate waves and washes of light, worn and gritty lettering, and sharp angles among tendrils of bare tree branches (using a long-forgotten picture I took of a particularly eerie looking house here in town).
Cover art aside, I highly recommend Cold House if you haven't heard it yet. It's not an album for a sunny day at the beach, or a car ride with a first date. It will leave you feeling exposed, vulnerable—yet, understood. Be warned.
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