This bleak, 30-minute instrumental opus from the Grasshopper Lies Heavy is like a stoned-drone Peter and the Wolf with the part of God’s wrath played by snarling, sharp-toothed guitar. Part I begins with a shivering squeal that’s soon swallowed by an omnipresent roar and never quite spit back out. The roar fades to a rumble, and Part II rings in the upper register, conveying an unnatural peace in the wake of a slaughter, perfect to soundtrack that scene in a horror film meant to lull you into believing the killing is done though the killer’s unaccounted for. The drums thump like an unsteady heartbeat, spurting blood out an open wound. Part III begins bleating, telegraphing distress though no slasher springs immediately from the lake. Brighter guitars assuage that creeping sense of dread, but they darken until dawn breaks in chiming beauty. Part IV marches on in a steady plod that eventually grows monotonous after several minutes of focused listening, but Part V’s drums advance mournfully like cadence for a man being stripped of his rank and dignity. The guitar sounds unexpectedly sympathetic, weeping along until it shakily descends into impenetrable blackness. Just as it brightens, it dies. That sounds about right. — Jeremy Martin
Support Local Journalism.
Join the San Antonio Current Press Club
Local journalism is information. Information is power. And we believe everyone deserves access to accurate independent coverage of their community and state. Our readers helped us continue this coverage in 2020, and we are so grateful for the support.
Help us keep this coverage going in 2021. Whether it's a one-time acknowledgement of this article or an ongoing membership pledge, your support goes to local-based reporting from our small but mighty team.
Join the San Antonio Press Club for as little as $5 a month.