Austyn Wohlers - Bodymelt in the Garden of Death

A Closer Listen

Ever heard of art pop quartet Tomato Flower?  If so, you may be shocked by the sound of Austyn Wohlers solo, or the other way around.  Wohlers sings, growls and screams through single “Destroyer,” written in the aftermath of her breakup with another band member. And it’s not the only bad thing that’s happened to her recently; her mother had a severe health scare that could have led to her death.

Life experiences change people, but less often do they change timbre.  Wohlers emerged from her emotional encounters a different artist, eschewing lyrics while embracing drone.  Bodymelt in the Garden of Death is a powerful set of layered compositions that operate as a score to trauma.  The title refers to a moment in which Wohlers was hugging her mother while surrounded by the glistening flowers of her mom’s garden.  The sun was setting, the storm had passed and the metaphors were starting to bloom.  These seeming juxtapositions work their way into the music, which swerves from sweltering to cooling and back again.

The haze surrounding the notes is like the cloud of unknowing, an occluded mirror.  Cicadas create the preliminary drone of “Grasshopper Heaven,” as if nature is empathizing with one of her own. The celestial connection continues on “An Angel’s Emerald Wing.”  Crickets in a vast field, joined by Ruby Mars on harp.  It seems that Wohlers is thinking of heaven, her mind jumping forward, even pre-grieving.  Halfway through, the insects and music thicken before leaving behind an intimation of bells.  As the album continues, it seems as if Wohlers is deep in meditation, no longer fearing for her mother’s life, but seeing wisdom.  “Attachment Illusion” reflects a Buddhist concept meant to illuminate and liberate.  The music draws back to reveal nature, reflecting the transition of the artist’s attention from her mother to the flowers, as if they had a deeper lesson to teach.

The key track, in title and execution, is “How Heavy the Slow World.”  The title comes from Robert Creely’s enigmatic poem “The Window,” which may be interpreted as an allegory of mourning or of surrender (“a leaf of yellow color is going to fall”).  But like the album, it also celebrates what exists while it is still here.  The timbres twirl, then grow dense and deep, heavy as autumn thoughts.  The weight lifts in the closing piece, borne by a rolling stream, which represents both the flow of time and the cyclical flow of nature.  Wohlers has found acceptance, and has grown lighter as a result. She’s no longer growling, no longer screaming, but floating, buoyant.  (Richard Allen)