Mono Gone by: Steve Scully Mon:01-Oct-07 Label: Temporary Residence Year: 2007 WB rating 68 out of 100

He may only be a bass player, but Alex James (Blur) sometimes has something useful to say: “I’m not a huge fan of remixes. A pop record is a distilled, definitive work of art, so changing it in any way is unnecessary.”

Japanese group Mono have carved themselves a niche of sorts in the Rock ‘n’ Roll world as technically proficient, meticulous and, above all, loud; they’re the perfect embodiment of the post-rock ethos (‘crescendo, crescendo, crescendo!’). A genre populated by pretence and grandeur, ‘post-rock’ is much maligned, and has garnered little recognition of late despite the success of its flag-bearers Mogwai, Godspeed You! Black Emperor and, of course, Mono. These bands all possess a similar trait: a penchant for overlong works of enormous instrumental intensity.

Like their generic counterparts, Mono are a band of contrivance. You Are There, a quite stunning album, is as powerful a ‘whole’ as any the year has seen: every moment of emotive content, every little tickle of the heart-strings, is entirely, and meticulously, planned by the Mono crew. Music – at least Mono’s view of music – is a collection of innately emotional elements: their emotionalism, their idea of the audience’s reaction, is all calculated. It works, but you feel somewhat tainted, somewhat dirty for having been led around like that.

The problem with Gone is that, in truth, it’s a compilation, and it honestly doesn’t seem to have the same effect as any of Mono’s previous releases. From the earlier tracks (‘Finlandia’ and ‘Black Woods’) we can see the band’s heavy rock roots in full swing, guitar solos blazing about the place, squealing amidst a tirade of rhythms. ‘Yearning’, a track that made its way onto You Are There, is Mono to a tee: understated, ambient guitar melodies gradually built up to create a tempest of distortion. It’s a 15-minute ride on the Mono paradigm, and a profoundly well-crafted piece.

It’s ever-so-slightly relieving when they desert the ideal of purely guitar rock and embrace the idea of a wider orchestral scope. The strings that emerge in ‘Memorie Dal Futuro’ are quiet but essential, underscoring a rather stagnant track with some degree of lush expressiveness. Similar effect is had by the strings and glockenspiel in ‘Since I’ve Been Waiting For You’, Gone’s highlight, which is barely two-minutes long, but of undeniable grace and striking subtlety (something they usually lack).

Mono’s evolution is laid bare by the album’s closing tracks. ‘Black Rain’ and ‘Rainbow’ especially mark distinct turning points for these guys, who you could be excused for thinking relatively monotonous in terms of style. Further embracing the use of strings, adding a new layer to their sound, the orchestral feel is heightened in ‘Black Rain’ by the addition of Giovanna Cacciola’s vocal part. Although spoken word (a little cheesy, wouldn’t you say?), this at least shows that Mono are branching out. ‘Rainbow’ is an uplifting string-driven piece – strangely uplifting by Mono’s standard – in which we are privy to the impressive orchestration and arrangement talents of front-man Taka.

It must be noted that a great majority of the tracks on Gone were recorded and mixed by Steve Albini, an absolute music legend, who was an adolescent during the much-maligned 1990s’. His touch is easily visible in the enormity of the sound; such is Albini’s feel for the heavier side of things.

Sound aside, Gone’s full effect is contextual. It shows us the evolution of a band that few of us know, but of the few who do, many revere. It may not be an album in its own right, and may only be a mish-mash of Mono’s past material, but it traces beautifully and accurately Mono’s progression towards what seems to be a promising future of a wider and more thoughtful brand of songwriting.

The minds behind Mono may still be sitting back, stroking their well-kept beards, thinking how next to lure their fans through a Labyrinth of emotions, but at least now we know a little about them. Before now, Mono was as elusive on record as they were on stage – difficult to connect with, yet undeniably in control of your every reaction. Now, tracing Mono’s development as we can so effectively with Gone, there’s a touch more humanity to this meticulous, technical beast than there once was.