Speaking is not enough. Whoever truly wants to approach their gods, or their God, must sing the words. Something like this is also the claim made by Joseph Ratzinger in his book The Spirit of the Liturgy, which he wrote before rising smoke declared him Pope. Throwback! But what do religious chantings and choirs have to do with the Dutch group Ambassade?
They were a trio; now they are a duo. They were a project for off-centre cold-wave pop; now they are a project for neoclassical experimental music with a leaning towards keyboard drama and religious symbolism. When »The Thurible Hymn« sounds – the hymn of the swung incense burner, that is – and a choir pressed into fog practises repetition, while keyboard pads open the heavens behind it and beats remain outside the gates, the new concept becomes clear: every leading role on the album is cast with voices.
Fortunately, nobody needs to be afraid of this, because they are still too occupied with the darkly gloomy machine sounds that distinguished their previous records. What is ultimately worshipped on Manrira is the experiment. »Togetherness« is muddy, mutated drum-machine spookiness; »The Influencer Accent«, with its loops, really belongs on a bass mixtape; and »Gunslinger« scrapes through the gloom with technoid precision.
Manrira
