Plangent by Drown: A Sonic Dive into the Depths of Drone and Noise
Alright, so let’s talk about Plangent by Drown. Released in 2011 outta the UK under Kava Karvup Recordings and Sounds From Inside Out, this album is one of those records that doesn’t just sit in your playlist—it kinda crawls inside your head and sets up camp. If you’re into electronic music but crave something darker, heavier, more raw, then yeah, this might be your thing.
The genre? Drone and noise. And honestly, it fits like a glove. It’s not background music; it demands attention. Like, if you hit play while folding laundry or scrolling through memes, good luck focusing on anything else. This isn’t chill vibes—it’s an experience. Two tracks really stuck with me: "Desolation" and "Syren Pt. I & 2."
“Desolation” hits hard right off the bat. The track feels like standing alone in an empty warehouse at 3 AM, staring at shadows that aren’t there but somehow still creep you out. There’s no melody to cling to—just layers of sound building tension until it almost becomes unbearable. But weirdly enough, that discomfort makes it memorable. It’s bleak, sure, but also beautiful in its own messed-up way. You feel small listening to it, like you’re being swallowed by something vast and indifferent. I dunno, maybe that sounds dramatic, but hey, that’s how it felt.
Then there’s “Syren Pt. I & 2,” which is basically two parts of the same haunting story. Part I starts slow, almost teasing you with these eerie tones that sound like they’re coming from another dimension. By the time Part 2 rolls around, though, things get chaotic. It’s like the calm before the storm turned into the storm itself—and then kept going. The transition between the two parts feels seamless, but man, does it leave a mark. Honestly, I couldn’t stop thinking about sirens calling sailors to their doom while this played. Maybe that was the point? Either way, it worked.
Other tracks like “Writhe” and “Signal Static” keep the vibe alive, all jagged edges and distorted hums. Even the title track “Plangent” has this weight to it, like each note carries some kind of unspoken grief. It’s exhausting in the best possible way.
Here’s the thing: Plangent isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or danceable beats, nah, move along. But if you want something that challenges you, pushes boundaries, and leaves you feeling unsettled yet strangely satisfied, give it a shot.
And here’s the kicker—I listened to this album during a power outage once. No lights, no distractions, just me and my headphones in total darkness. Let’s just say it made the whole experience ten times spookier. Not sure if that’s a recommendation or a warning, tbh.
