Album Review: The Rabbit’s Advice

Rabbit as King of the Ghosts are a collective who formed in Wellington, but are now flung far and wide, boasting members from several Kiwi outfits, including Ripship, Blunt Dog, and Big Pharma, amongst others. It’s been three years of building structure from collective improvisation, and now they have released their debut album The Rabbit’s Advice. I’ve simply not encountered an album like this one, so I’ll let their description say it much better than I can: “It is large-scale post-rock firmly rooted in the mysticism of folk music. Dense layers of percussion and acoustic instrumentation aim to create an otherworldly yet natural landscape, while group vocals add to the communal feeling, and the inclusion of poetry readings from Wallace Stevens and W. B. Yeats gives the album a literary edge.” And even this apt description sells short the depth and breadth that this album truly has.

The first track is Where Have You Been? – a soft chord swells and holds, with a smattering of percussion, slide guitar sparsely noodles in the background. Almost imperceptibly the dynamic builds, with voices floating in the distance. The whole mixture simmers and bubbles, gradually becoming thicker, until gradually cooling and dissipating in its final section. There’s a warm and intimate feel, as if being performed in a large living room, to the start of Thereisnothingicando. Light percussion, hand claps, guitar, piano, strings, and a wonderful chorus of voices. It sounds like a room full of happiness and hot cuppas. However, when the bass joins in at just after the 1’30” mark, it brings a more urgent and driving groove, as if to portray a sense of anxiety increasing, in regards to the song’s title. The drums increase inexorably in volume and attack too, until the beat drops into half-time in the latter section of the song, coinciding with a mellowing of mood, perhaps signifying a move from being panicked, to accepting that the situation is out of one’s control and finding a measure of peace.

House & Hill has a Folky sound; banjo, strings, guitar, bass (possibly double bass?) and some very subtle percussion, I’m thinking maybe bongo and tambourine. The vocals lilt sublimely atop the mellifluous mix, before giving way to a sample of Wallace Stevens reading part of his Credences of Summer, as the musical accompaniment drops back. Piano and harmonica are the most prominent features of the richly rumbling instrumental section that closes the song. Engine Dance has a sombre beginning, stark but stirring, and an earnest voice weaves its way through. A variety of different sounds pulse in and out. This sounds like how I would imagine it feels to float through outer space. The drums eventually join in, along with extremely fuzzed-out guitar. The mood shades and intensifies, before ending up in a huge stomping plod, like a well-armed mastodon marching to war. The dust settles just before the 9 minute mark, everything becoming soft and reflective, drifting to a peaceful conclusion.

Delicately strummed guitar chords, the warm tone passing through a tastefully applied tremolo effect, herald the start of Cords. Some strings and woodwind join in shortly before being accompanied by a sample of W.B.Yeats reciting his poem The Lake Isle of Innisfree. The music calmly continues in an unconcernedly rejoicing way, a giving of thanks for a paradise found. Slightly past the halfway point, a complete mood and feel change. It evolves into a quiet and languorous Indie Folk style, with a subdued yet powerful vocal delivery. The Indie Folk theme continues into Mt. Maybe, a sweet, well put together little song. This is a band that likes surprises, however. The song seems to come to a natural end, then something completely new starts up, with only 45 seconds remaining. A build-up centered around some swift piano arpeggios almost sounds as if it’s about to burst into a 1970’s news bulletin, before deconstructing into silence.

Haunting strings, with tiny drops of tension from the piano signals the start of The Birds. Then come drums reminiscent of trip-hop, keeping a funeral-march pace under the dirge-like atmosphere, with vocals that bring to mind Alice In Chains. Whatever birds these are, they sure aren’t chirpy little canaries. Carrion crows, perhaps. Vultures, maybe. When laid next to the rest of the album, this is by far the darkest track. Menacing, brooding, and colossal. And yet it, too, fades ethereally away, showing the true beauty within the darkness in its last moments. Colour Eater is a fun, Lounge-y sound; mellow and smooth, and more than just a little bit sexy. Colour Eater sounds like the kind of chap who would ask “Hey baby, what’s your sign?”. In magnificent Rabbit as King of the Ghosts style, the final minute is totally different, some strident strings see the album to a close.

The Rabbit’s Advice is an adventure, full of colour, light, and pleasant surprises. The musicianship on display here is masterful and skilled, and it seems each player has a deep understanding of the concept of each piece. An artful and thoroughly gorgeous album.