When not making strange, haunting music, the core members of Biota belong to a mysterious Colorado visual arts collective called the Mnemonists. Every few years they indulge their aural muse and take to the recording studio with their tape machines, steel guitars, violins, hurdy-gurdy and any number of obscure, unpronounceable instruments. Invisible Map is their umpteenth album in two decades (the sixth available on CD)and it’s as ambitious and original as anything you’re likely to hear these days. The songs exist entirely removed from any trends, yet it’s hard to imagine a musical style that isn’t evoked throughout the 37 tracks. Trace elements of free jazz, prog rock, triphop, trance, folk, country and classical music kaleidoscope together in a sprawling yet surprisingly focused 76 minutes.
These dreamy soundscapes are as hypnotic as an absinthe high, alternately sublime and densely turbulent, even disorienting. Ears tuned to more mainstream sounds (pretty much any music besides this) might find Invisible Map a little frustrating the first few or a hundred times it’s heard. Middle Eastern rhythms fade in and out, conga beats bounce through, freaky harmonies are looped underneath. But this is not self-conscious fusion-for-art’s-sake. While the ancient instruments (when’s the last time you heard someone play a nae?) might be a bit indulgent alongside the electronics and samples and tape loops, there is such an uncommon depth and purity to the sound it’s almost impossible to come away cynical. Mystified, yes. It’s rare that big ideas seem to translate so completely from studio to CD–unless this whole project is one big accident, in which case it’s even more likable.
The short pieces are largely instrumental, but on the few vocal tracks Biota reveals a latent, minimalist pop sense. For Invisible Map, Genevieve Heistek of the chamber rock ensemble Godspeed You Black Emperor has been recruited to sing. On the standout "Landless" Heistek narrates an adrift-at-sea tale with a mournfulness worthy of Cat Power or Mazzy Star. The mesmerizing song features deep percussion and an accordion under the bittersweet chorus: "Oh, it’s a long horizon." Invisible Maps comes with a colorful booklet filled with some of the Mnemonists’ artwork, resulting in a neat little multimedia package. It’s easy to see the dark hodgepodge images as visual cues for the music. The design is striking enough that those who remember might even find themselves longing for the days of the gatefold LP.
