By: Ross Edwards
Presocratics drip with aloofness in their haunting, scattered opuses to noise and whispered melodies. Their music could safely fall in the ambient category, although they are clearly suckers for a sad melody, as on the garage-fi, lush version of "Moon River," which even with drums manages to stay very rhythmically ambiguous. Their arrangement is over the top, swelling to such an enormous size it threatens to drown the shy vocals, but after a while the sound truly makes more sense of some of their noisier tracks.
"State's Evidence" is one of these noisy ones, presenting whirling, bubbling themes, introducing the old upright piano, and surrounded by aggressive non-tones. The long "Red Democracy" sounds like the score to a silent horror film, or maybe it was composed under the influence of the weirdest David Lynch. This is music not to be listened to when walking home late at night, because it threatens to creepily overwhelm you.
Some tracks lighten up however, like the static-infused "if they come in the morning," which obscures dramatic beauty with random sounds. The song is tragic and self-effacing, and at times is so noisily annoying it seems Presocratics are daring you to listen to it. Presocratics make music that sounds like something profound has just happened, and they are sculpting the ethereal aftermath like a rumbling storm in the distance.