Turnar by Hekla

When we meditate in an ancient church, the maddening, enormous silence opens up our imagination, allowing our thoughts to expand into the space that sound typically commands. The new dark ambient record Turnar by Hekla provides the resulting soundtrack, our mind’s attempt at filling the silence with an adequate representation of the vastness of the structure. Sure, we could try to imagine the people who built the building a thousand years ago, what they may have talked about during breaks and what they may have felt when their work was complete, but we know in thinking these things we’re only deluding ourselves. Instead, the only honest interaction with this space, as unfathomable in the fourth dimension as it is in the three we can see, collapses into a wordless appreciation of the expanse, the sort of feeling encouraged by this record’s rumbling bass, intermittent classical instrumentation, eerie theramin, and sweeping spacial production. In the madness we feel from silence in the presence of such unbelievable power, we construct something dark, unknowable, and fundamentally beautiful.