Album Review: Split by Halma Oui Mais Non – A Sonic Puzzle Worth Solving
Alright, let’s get into this wild ride called Split, the 2018 release from German rockers Halma Oui Mais Non. This album feels like someone handed you a box of mismatched puzzle pieces and said, “Make art.” It’s part indie rock, part post-rock, with just enough alternative vibes to keep things unpredictable. Released under Kapitän Platte (yes, that’s "Captain Record" for all us non-German speakers), it’s got layers—kind of like an onion but way cooler because no tears are involved.
First off, shoutout to Chris von Rautenkranz for mastering most of these tracks. Dude clearly knows his stuff. And props to Tobias Levin, who produced some killer moments here. You can tell everyone put their heart into this project—it's messy in spots, sure, but isn’t that what makes DIY music so damn charming?
Now, onto the songs. There are seven total, each one kind of doing its own thing. But two tracks really stuck with me: "Fouji Part 2" and "Bass Strait."
Let’s start with "Fouji Part 2," which honestly sounds like if your favorite emo band decided they wanted to be dreamy instead. The guitars shimmer without trying too hard, while the rhythm section keeps things grounded. I’m not gonna lie—it took me a few listens to fully appreciate how understated yet powerful this track is. By the time those layered vocals kick in halfway through, it hits different. Like, oh wow, we’re floating now. That moment? Pure magic.
Then there’s "Bass Strait." Man, this song has swagger. It starts slow, almost teasing you, before exploding into this chaotic wall of sound that feels both raw and meticulously crafted. Lucas Verreman deserves mad credit here—he recorded AND mixed it—and boy, does it show. If I had to pick one word for this track, it’d be “tension.” Not the awkward date kind, though; more like the edge-of-your-seat-during-a-thriller kind. Every note builds up to something big, even if that “something” never quite arrives. Maybe that’s intentional. Or maybe they forgot to finish it. Either way, it works.
The rest of the album continues this theme of controlled chaos. Tracks like "Treadmill" and "Minimal Banks" bring solid energy, though they don’t quite stick in my brain the same way as the standouts. Still, there’s plenty to love about the overall vibe. It’s like wandering through a labyrinth where every turn reveals something new—sometimes beautiful, sometimes confusing, but always interesting.
One random thought: How do bands come up with names like Halma Oui Mais Non? Seriously. Google Translate tells me “halma” means “leap,” so maybe it’s about leaping between genres or emotions? Who knows. What I do know is that this album doesn’t try to fit neatly into any category—and honestly, thank god for that.
So yeah, Split won’t be for everyone. Some folks might find it too scattered, too experimental. But if you dig music that challenges you, that refuses to sit still, give this one a spin. Just don’t expect answers—it’s called Split, after all. Maybe that says it all.
Final verdict? Listening to this felt like finding a hidden gem at a thrift store. Sure, it’s a little rough around the edges, but that’s exactly why it shines. Oh, and fun fact: Did you know pigeons can recognize themselves in mirrors? True story. Kinda like this album—it reflects back whatever you bring to it.
