Explosions in the Sky - American Primeval

A Closer Listen

A quarter century to the month after Explosions in the Sky recorded their first album, How Strange, Innocence, the Austin band returns with the album they’ve always seemed destined to make.  American Primeval is the original score to a dark Western series on Netflix; the only thing that would be more perfect would be to score a fireworks display.

American Primeval reunites EitS with Peter Berg, the director they worked with on Friday Night Lights.  The new series also stars Taylor Kitsch, although it’s a lot more violent; in response, the score’s tone is the polar opposite of Big Bend, while retaining the band’s sense of gravitas.

“The Fort” begins with shaded couplets of strings, which lead to the first stirrings of a guitar’s lowest notes, foreshadowing the plot.  Then the first references to Morricone arrive, offering sweet relief; there will be much to fear, but someone to cheer for as well.  The band has always sounded dusty and reverb-drenched, but finally they have the visuals to match.  “Ghosts” and “Memories” extend the vibe, sounding like a long journey into uncharted lands.  Already one can sense the difference between this and other EitS productions; these tracks do not seek catharsis through cacophony, but aim to establish a mood of resolution mixed with dread.  In “Hard Road,” one can hear the wind rustling across the prairie.

“Andi Ondi Ahman” is as warm as a folk song around a fire, an oasis of beauty wedged into a bleak landscape, a counterbalance to the visual brutality.  Even as the prospects of the protagonists grow increasingly slim, the music finds ways to encourage them, if only for brief stretches, knowing that it will all come to an end.  The score exudes a sense of forward motion, while warning of enemies unseen, communicated by the pounding drums of “Jacob’s Descent.”  The sonic explosion arrives without warning in the midst of “Snow”s placidity, echoing the suddenness of death on the range. In “A Massacre,” the drums are let off their leash.  The characters, as well as the band, were only delaying the inevitable.

While it should come as no surprise to fans of EitS, the score stands alone as an album, devoid of incidental music and refusing to repeat motifs.  The piano chords of “This Land” lay the album to ground, like a body lowered into the grave.  As the guitar channels the Woody Guthrie classic, the notes sound like a eulogy: sorrow and hope intertwined.  On its silver anniversary, EitS continues to shimmer and glow.  (Richard Allen)