Album Review: Namo Maitri - "Withered Mind"

Occasionally in this human existence, we are encouraged to step outside our comfort zone and engage in an activity we otherwise would not.  It is the potential of the experience that lures us, for it theoretically promises two beneficial outcomes – either we have found a new experience that we enjoy or, perhaps more commonly, we are least granted some new sense of perspective on the activities we already enjoy so well.

All that preamble is meant to say this – I’ve taken a dive into electronic music.

It seemed the natural thing to do.  Music has been trending that way for a while, and with its recent invasion even into the fortress of metal, it was time to see what all the ruckus was about.  So, for the time since I sampled DJ Tiësto’s “In My Memory” roughly around 2002 (which speaks not only to my age, but to the idea that I have perpetually been six months behind new music even then,) I took the recommendation of a trusted friend and ventured roughly blind into the soundscape of Namo Maitri’s “Withered Mind.”

What’s most impressive, about Namo Maitri’s collection of songs, and what will become a theme here, is the range which they exist in.  The album begins with “Isolation,” an etheric wisp with a borderline tribal affect, which pleasantly quiets the mind.  This plays in stark contrast to the follow up title track, which begins (and is threaded through,) with a sample of Charles Manson’s (in)famous “Believe me…” quote.  The juxtaposition of the two songs is jarring, but serves to demonstrate the number of roads that Namo Maitri is willing to take us down, which is to his credit.

“Legacy” is where the album comes alive.  Everything that the artist has built up toward through his first three tracks coalesces here, with a well-paced trip-hop beat underpinning the slower and more melodic overlay we’ve come to expect through the beginning of the album.  The song is a hybrid of themes from various Halloween movies (I mean the holiday, not the specific slasher movie series,) and early 90’s west coast hip-hop pacing.  While that sounds like an untenable combination, this is where “Withered Mind” shows us its excellent potential.

“Old Milk” is the album’s opus, an eight-minute laid back banger that would feel at home rolling down a sunshine-beaten, downtown avenue with some friends in a hydraulically-equipped car.  Surprising for an instrumental track over eight minutes, the cut is never boring, as it moves between three separate acts; a scratched intro, a sparse but thunderous piano middle, and finally a fully electronic ending with layered beats in harmony.  The second act is the most effective as the piano provides pleasant discord from the airy beat underneath, lending the piece depth, but all three phases are bound by the simulated hip-hop clap and weave around each other.

The curious adventures continue with the next two tracks, as we get the guitar-composed “Shampoo Night” (featuring KMFDM’s Andee Blacksugar, who seems to be popping up in this column a lot lately,) which then turns into “Time to Go Back,” which I want to pause on for a moment.  This latter song spends half of its time influenced by the dance music of the Indian subcontinent, and then transitions into an almost proto-reggae.  I didn’t think I’d write any of that today, but it’s the kind of experimentation that (micro) Namo Maitri and (macro) electronic music can play with and come off sounding fantastic.

The most damning thing one could really say about “Withered Mind,” is that many of the songs are very short, and manage to just establish their central idea before the end comes.  In some ways “Withered Mind” is reminiscent of J Dilla’s “Donuts,” in that we are presented with the ideas of songs and musical postulations more than we are the completed evolution of those same ideas.  I would have liked two more minutes of “Time to Go Back” to cite one example.

For all that, the focus here really should be that Namo Maitri gives us an opportunity to explore a much wider landscape of music than is customarily combined on one album.  Furthermore, “Withered Mind” does so without making us wander through a dense slog of electronic production and over-permutated beats.  These songs are light and airy, easy to get into, simple to listen to and free to enjoy.  Particularly for an inexperienced metalhead like me.  So if you’re looking to wade into deeper water, Namo Maitri provides a fine portal.