Cantu-Ledesma's been working out fractured noise pop for quite a few years now, on his own as well as with Tarentel, Alps and Raum but A Year With 13 Moons looks to be one of his highest profile records yet. The album is caked in a frothing, crackling layer of dust obscuring the dense strands of guitar and synthwork in the labyrinth below the storm. But below that cloud is where Moons' beauty lies in thick, billowing waves that convey a lost sadness and shifting sense of loneliness. The album is as hypnotic as the clip of centerline down a darkened highway, blinking slowly as film frames until the morning fog envelops the windows in abstracted shapes. The rumbling in the distance sounds like thunder, and its only too late to realize the rumbling is an avalanche of sound that whites out everything but noise and howls and an icy clang in the air that resolves into stillness. Apparently Cantu-Ledesma was attempting to convey memory without sentimentality and in A Year With 13 Moons he succeeds in never feeling sappy but there's definitely a sentiment that's felt in the cracks and crevices, and the shades and colors of the folds.
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