The Color of Cyan - AS HUMAN

A Closer Listen

The title AS HUMAN carries a multitude of meanings. What is it like to be human, or to pass as human?  At what juncture might one lose or gain one’s humanity? The Chicago band calls the title track “a meditation on vulnerability and the small triumphs that come with choosing to feel, even when it hurts.”  The Color of Cyan paints with a wide swath of moods, plumbing the depths of human experience and exploring its potential heights, .

Eduardo Cintron’s striking cover image is available separately on t-shirts and linoleum block prints; the vinyl is offered in red-and-white variants.  The rich red hues prompt the listener to imagine lifeblood flowing and spilled, even before the record is spun. (For those who are curious, cyan was incorporated into the cover art for the band’s debut album in 2021).

The best way to describe the lineup is that The Color of Cyan is a post-rock trio with a string section, and this latter element pushes the collective to the next level.  The opener, “Breathing,” highlights their contribution, setting the stage with a dramatic, drum-free build.  This gorgeous slice of modern composition builds to a devastating drone, then recedes, creating space for the guitars to tiptoe into the title track.  The string quartet is still audible, creating a perfect balance. When the drums finally arrive, the lineup is complete.  In the fifth minute, the guitar and drums create a ladder that one might ascend; there’s space to dream and reminisce, to yearn and hope.

“Hands Weaving Sky” returns the string quartet to the fore; the band utilizes dynamic contrast well, saving its crescendos for when they will have the most impact.  Again the listener is drawn into thought, a rest between struggles.  When the music starts to build again, so does the emotion. “At Dawn” rises slowly and carefully, setting a base for the concluding tracks, where the band lets loose.  “Oubao Main” references the indigenous Taino name for Puerto Rico and suggests that we do not face our fights alone.  “Hail the Mountains,” the album’s closer and most powerful piece, is also its longest, and we suspect will be the finale of many concerts.  Teasing an eruption at the two-minute mark, the piece subsides to near-silence, only to build again.  When the catharsis arrives, it does so in glorious fashion, every player operating at their peak.  And then the album returns to its beginning, soft and low, the cycle complete.  To be human is to experience highs and lows, seeking equilibrium; the band seems to be saying wherever you are, just hold on.  (Richard Allen)