CD / Wierd Records / 2012
It's been said before that Stanley Kubrick seemed like a classical 
composer who created films instead -- that the images played out more 
like arias and overtures than a matinee movie.  The inverse of that is 
probably the only way to approach Selenelion, the debut LP from 
Vaura.  Less a collection of songs and more like an expedition into an 
elegantly foreboding universe, the eleven tracks that comprise the 
latest release from Wierd Records sound as if they were each crafted to 
evoke unearthly scenery and monolithic events.  
 From harsh distortion and aggressive screams to cold and shimmering clean guitars and vocals, the spectrum of sound on Selenelion is both varied and atmospherically cohesive.  Thunderous drums, droning
 synthesizers, percussive metals, acoustic guitars, and vocal 
arrangements that sometimes approach ritualistic plainchant recall 
artists like Ulver and Swans. Vaura's particular blend of brutality and 
romantic melodicism can be attributed in part to the stylistic mesh of 
musicians: Kevin Hufnagel, Toby Driver, Josh Strawn, and Charlie Schmid 
also play in Gorguts, Dysrhythmia, Kayo Dot, Secret Chiefs 3, and 
Religious to Damn.  Selenelion was recorded and mixed by Colin 
Marston of progressive black metallists Krallice, and signals a nod for 
Wierd Records to the roots of founder Pieter Schoolwerth who is also 
member of the seminal noise outfit Bloodyminded and a continuing 
supporter of acts like Locrian.  
 The album title refers to a horizontal lunar eclipse: the moment at 
which the sun and the eclipsed moon can be seen at the same time.  With 
song titles referencing everything from an Etruscan demoness to a 
Luciferian take on the conversion of St. Paul, and with artwork by the 
German photographer Alexander Binder, the unifying thread is an 
unmistakable sense of shadow-drenched enigma.  "Drachma" refers to the 
coins that bought passage for the dead into the underworld, suggesting 
that everything following that track is part of an Orpheus-like journey.
  But repeated nods to the occult literature of Jorge Luis Borges, in 
particular to "The Aleph" and "The Zahir," two stories that deal with 
infinity and vision, suggest that beyond the the dark hallucinations 
there is also a serious meditation taking place on the limits and 
paradoxes of seeing.  Approaching such subject matter by way of 
something as invisible and intangible as music, Vaura invites the 
listener to share in a visceral, yet intimate ceremony of sensuality and
 destruction.
