It's hard to believe that six years have gone by since Deaf Center's Pale Ravine hit the shelves. In the time that's passed, the distinct melodies of Norwegians Erik Skodvin and Otto Totland have become almost synonymous with a specific shard of mysterious imagery so it feels high time that the duo should return to add a new next chapter to their shadowy story. In contrast to Skodvin and Totland's previous work, Owl Splinters was recorded in a studio setting (Nils Frahm's Durton studio, to be exact), and the lo-fidelity, haphazard techniques of their early recordings are now all but gone. With the benefit of some high-end engineering and analog equipment, Skodvin and Totland's murky compositions have been transformed from sketches into glorious widescreen spectacles. The blackened, scraping tone of Skodvin's strings ring out on the album's opener "Divided" before seismic bass drones push up from beneath with a cacophonous, earthy clarity. This is the same Deaf Center we fell in love with all those years ago, but bigger and more powerful than ever before. Between these epic compositions, the two musicians take time to give their own solo instruments the time to breathe -- Totland on the piano and Skodvin on the cello. These small vignettes are crucial to the overall narrative of Owl Splinters, allowing a crack of sunlight through the oppressively bleak atmosphere. Everything slots into place on the album's centerpiece "The Day I Would Never Have" -- piano and cello tumble into each other, forming a dense, affecting cloud of sound. Echoes of half-remembered horror movies, love songs and the dark arts come together in a Norwegian cauldron to reveal something that at its heart is deeply moving and beautiful. Deaf Center are back, and Owl Splinters might just be their most defining statement to date.
item # 32187