Travel back all the way to the late eighties and early nineties, when bands like Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine were creating quite a buzz in the indie underground. Off late several bands have popped up that continue this tradition. Take for instance our very own Slow Crush or, of course, the by now near legendary French act Alcest who has welded a lot of the trademark shoegaze elements to the primal ore of black metal.

Founded by Lauren Crosser and Rick Martel, Chainlacing is part of that new generation of bands. By the way, if you had to look up the word messuage, you’re not alone. According to the Yorkshire Historical Dictionary, a messuage is an old English word for occupied land or dwelling house. Transcribed to music this messuage is built out of walls of dissonant distortion that instead of being loud and overbearing, as you would have on a metal record, sounds hazy, distanced and otherworldly as if the guitars themselves are sleepwalking. Interweaved in this dreamlike state, the guitars find themselves haunted by the alternating vocal interplay between Lauren and Rick. Occasionally, this sonic fog is dispersed by a wandering piano line or a heavier riff that pierces through, only to be obfuscated again in the mists of noise.

Without going into a full track-by-track rundown of the album, I do want to point out a few things worth of mention. For instance, the opening ‘Petty Pleas’ brings in an interesting post-punk or goth element with meandering guitars that recall The Cure and The Sisters of Mercy more than My Bloody Valentine. Also Rick‘s vocals here sound really low, almost like Fenne Kuppens from Whispering Sons. As a counterpart Lauren has a very ethereal voice. Neither of them make any intentional attempts though to break through the sonic veil surrounding them, preferring to remain hidden in those flimsy shards.

I’ve used the word “haunting” before and by that I don’t mean so much that it’s scary or fit for a Halloween party, but rather that none of the disparate elements ever manage to materialize into a solid form. Everything stays just out of reach. Take the lyrics, for instance: you do get have somewhat of an inkling of what the duo is actually singing, but as soon as you think you’ve grasped the wordings, they slip away like a fading dream. Elusive by design. That sums up the records quite accurately in three words.

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