Milanku - À l’aube

A Closer Listen

We are starting to suspect that everyone in Montréal is a post-rock artist.  The city, so integral to the genre’s development, continues to produce bands who keep the flame lit.  Milanku, now on its fifth release, brings the sense of grandeur and hard-earned development we’ve come to expect from the Montréal scene, and À l’aube is clearly influenced by GY!BE and other bands, save for perhaps that one thing.

Yes, there’s some screamo here, lasting less than a minute in the eleven-minute opener with the ironic title “de leurs silences”.  But it makes sense, though such segments make the album teeter on the edge of our instrumental fence.   The band is tackling some weighty topics, which cannot be gleaned by music alone, and conveys them in bursts, inspired by the works of Milan Kundera and the isolation of the pandemic.  Instrumental “il sera déjà trop tard” is about “feeling a loss of control”; subsequent pieces address information overload and violence against women.  Of course, if one does not know French (and in the closing piece, Swedish), such messages will fall short, replaced by a relatable sense of anger, a railing against the machine, a learned helplessness erupting into a guttural howl.  Late in the album a counter-balance arrives in the voice of Erika Angell, a voice of such sweetness that it acts as a thread of hope in a labyrinth.  This is where we met the band – at the end – before we went barreling back to the beginning.

For us, it always has been, and continues to be about the music, and this album’s visceral power cannot be denied.  The piece begins with a drone, and then a drum, and expands ever-so-slowly.  Melancholic melodies intertwined, producing a “great sadness,” a requiem for all that has been lost.  The Big Burst at the six-minute mark makes the largest impact, after which a man screams into the void one last time, impotent to change the trajectory of the world, only able to rail, rail against the dying of the light.  When one plays the opening notes of the album again, they sound even sadder, and round the cycle continues, sadness to anger and back again, a cycle of despair, a tragedy of repetition that has become the human race.  (Richard Allen)

Angry Metal Guy 80

Gentleness is a trait rarely exhibited in extreme music – perhaps for obvious reasons. The petals of flame that flutter to the earth are too often wrenched by relentless gravity, dream worlds meet their end with violent sound, and meditation that offers healing is ripped open like a scab. Therefore, gentleness is a scar for Milanku, a weariness with the wounds suffered and a soundtrack of healing – of a busted bone never set quite right. There is always a piece missing, a limp in its graceful gait, and a numbness in fried nerves. Beauty is not naïve in À l’aube’s crystalline quality, but rather one that, like its title, acknowledges the hurt, the darkest, while praising the coming dawn: not so much healing as the possibility of healing.

Milanku is a quintet from Montreal, having released two full-lengths prior to À l’aube. 2018’s Monument du non​-​ê​tre & Mouvement du non​-​vivant fully embraced the trademark “unbearable lightness” of the act’s muse, Czech author Milan Kundera. This ended up feeling like a Mono album with harsh vocals, which were blasted minimally anyway, begging the question of whether Milanku belongs within metal ranks (Metal Archives says no). While metal traditionally conveys frustration, crisis, and desperation, À l’aube is content dwelling in its melancholy.¹ While the density of post-metal acts like Alaskan and We Lost the Sea is undeniably present here, the beauty takes center stage, emerging from the crushing weight of memory with a notable limp. Contrary to its solid but whimsical predecessor, À l’aube is world-weary and jaded, and all the better for it.

À l’aube by Milanku

Milanku’s assertions of melody are deeply embedded in the Godspeed You! Black Emperor school of thought, emphasizing texture through an injection of just enough ugliness. Opener “À l’aube; de leurs silences,” like any grand opener, is the closest Milanku gets to Through Silver in Blood or Panopticon in its pulsing bass lines and plodding riffs,² although its interwoven shimmering leads and simple melodies have a simultaneously hypnotic and raw effect, and signal the approaching dream. Each track flaunts organicity and expertly honed dynamics through intertwined melody from its dueling guitar leads and thunderous bass, drums are the tether that keeps À l’aube in memory of earth, vocals sparse and emotion aplenty. The contrasting distorted bass and angelic melodies of “À l’aube; il sera déjà trop tard” suggest innocence and grieving,³ while tragedy bleeds through the driving rhythms, crashing climaxes, and wailing tremolos of the quietly apocalyptic “À l’aube; prêchant la mauvaise nouvelle.”⁴ Melody is simple and amorphous, but always memorable throughout À l’aube.

While expertly composed crescendos, exploratory songwriting, and moods of bittersweet and tragedy are no strangers to post-metal, Milanku shows its true character and insane potential in its concluding pieces. While considered a bit of an intermitting calm before the storm, the jangly electronics and disembodied layers of voices of “À l’aube; de la grande tristesse” paints Milanku with a twisted brush – any qualms of pretty post-rock with harsh vocals cast aside.⁵ Closer “À l’aube; nous sommes disparus” presents a gradual and devastating crescendo of Milanku’s most vulnerable and crushing sides, letting the disembodied voices lead the ascent to our final lull.⁶ Enter the pulsing bass and pounding plods, the grounding agents, and the wailing, the gnashing of teeth, and the commanding barks – a swan song that reflects terror and desperation in humanity’s last breaths. Through this final track, the unbearable lightness takes full force in À l’aube, its building melodies and unflinching stare a clear ascent from its predecessors, and a challenge to post-metal today.

Milanku’s third full-length is a thing of beauty and terror. Its dichotomy of clean and harsh is endlessly intriguing, allowing exploration through a garbled shimmer that chokes and sputters across its thirty-nine minutes. While the ubiquitous Isis and Neurosis comparisons are partially fair, you’ll be more apt to recall Holy Fawn or Novarupta of yesteryear; its emphasis on organicity lends itself to minimalist sprawl rather than mammoth brutality. Somehow, though, the unbearable lightness of Milanku’s sound feels more punishing than any riff can provide. While certainly not for everyone and the nuanced post-rock influence takes many listens to unpack, this ascent through the roaring thunderclouds in the pinkish glow of dawn is worth every wound or scar that brought you here – it is an invitation to just be.

Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 256 kbps mp3
Label: Moment of Collapse Records | Folivora Records
Websites: milanku.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/milankuband
Releases Worldwide: March 31st, 2023

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