Post-metal upstarts PIJN make the most welcome of returns.
SIGNATURE BREW, LONDON
Post-metal heirs apparent fuse gravity and grace
DESPITE HAVING JUST one fulllength album to their name, Manchester collective Pijn (pronounced ‘pine’) are already spoken of in hushed tones in post-metal circles. Their grandiose elegies to loss provide comfort to those familiar with the seven stages of grief, and musically, they encompass an immense spectrum, swinging evocatively between the droning calm of Godspeed You! Black Emperor and the viscous heaviness of Isis at their most enflamed.
Few bands would be able to open their set with an 18-minute song from their debut album and keep an audience in awestruck rapture, but after a brief drone intro, that’s precisely what Pijn do. The power with which Unspoken builds and eventually hits like a 10-ton hammer to the solar plexus is truly something to behold. Broad daylight may not be the best environment for Pijn’s bleak, ominous elegies, but despite that, the music proves to be truly transportive. After so many months away from shows, that familiar ringing in the ears that follows seems like an old friend as opposed to a sure-fire path to tinnitus.
It’s clear that Pijn have been busy during this period of enforced isolation, as they premiere not just one but two new songs this evening. The frantic picking and elegiac lead lines of Our Endless Hours is possibly the closest they have come to aping Explosions In The Sky’s elegiac sound and the galloping riff in Carved Expanse faintly recalls Tool’s Schism without stealing from it directly.
Guitarist Joe Clayton loops his guitar to build layer upon layer of interweaving melodies that are stunningly evocative, whilst Nick Elback flits effortlessly between powerhouse drumming and gently tinkling the ivories. It’s early days yet, but if Pijn can continue playing shows of this standard, they have every chance of being as revered as Neurosis and Cult Of Luna by the decade’s end. REMFRY DEDMAN