Sailors With Wax Wings

Hallucinations in red rooms with white spaces on the wall. The specter of Stephen Crane haunts the spaces. And the room. And the mind of Pyramids creator R. Loren, who has given flight to yet another stereophonic masterpiece, this time under the moniker Sailors With Wax Wings. The tale of its genesis has at least a few details in common with the following:
A musical path is born anew under sheets of soft lightning and distant thunder, beneath the heat strobes of the thick Texas night. What hisses slowly behind creaking doors reveals itself after a season of deliberate recombination. The atmosphere boils and dilates; instruments and voices soar skyward toward transcendence. The clouds lapse and disintegrate like the frayed fabric of R. Loren’s nettled psyche.
Finally, the offspring is birthed whole. It breathes the air, then overtakes it. The lift force has both a vertical and forward component. Always onwards, always upwards. In fact, a certain tall, handsome genius at Decibel magazine called Sailors With Wax Wings’ self-titled debut “a towering atmospheric triumph, a kaleidoscope of shimmering guitars and ethereal vocal incantations that cascades from dark and cavernous to sparkling and exultant—and back again.”
As usual, he was right. Sailors With Wax Wings flutters and oscillates seamlessly as one dazzlingly cohesive 53-minute suite. Inspired by the aforementioned hallucinations induced by the work of the late, great Mr. Crane, the timeless myth of Daedalus and Icarus, and a fleeting phrase on a Vast Aire album, SWWW combines R. Loren’s penchant for palpable sonic textures and mood-altering musicality with his desire to explore more melancholy compositions and a male/female vocal dynamic.
An all-star cast of musicians joins Loren in the full realization of his objectives. Their names read like the dream team of a musical mastermind with one foot in the indie-rock firmament and the other in doom-dirge purgatory. Read ’em and, like, weep: Ted Parsons (Swans/Godflesh/Prong), Colin Marston (Krallice/Behold…The Arctopus), Aidan Baker (Nadja), Simon Scott (Slowdive), Dominick Fernow (Prurient/Cold Cave), Vern Rumsey (Unwound), Hildur Gudnadottir (Múm/Throbbing Gristle/The Knife), Aaron Stainthorpe (My Dying Bride), Jonas Renkse (Katatonia), Marissa Nadler, J. Leah, James Blackshaw, [and artwork by] David Tibet (Current 93) and Faith Coloccia (Mamiffer/Pyramids).
But the proof that any of this ever happened—or that the results are any good—will not be found on a piece of paper or in a document posted on the Interweb. Least of all this one. Better now to stop reading and start listening.
Band Members
R. Loren - vocals / textures (Pyramids, White Moth)
J. Leah - vocals
Ted Parsons - drums (Swans, Godflesh, Prong, Jesu)
Simon Scott - electronics (Slowdive)
Aidan Baker - guitar (Nadja)
Colin Marston - guitar (Krallice, Gorguts, Behold... The Arctopus, Dysrhythmia, Byla, Indricothere...)
Vern Rumsey - bass (Unwound)
Dominick Fernow - noise / electronics (Prurient, Cold Cave)
James Blackshaw - piano (Young God Records solo artist, Current 93)
Hildur Gudnadottir - cello (Mum, Throbbing Gristle, The Knife)
Aaron Stainthorpe - vocals (My Dying Bride)
Jonas Renkse (Lord Seth) - vocals (Katatonia (Swe),Bloodbath (Swe), October Tide)
Marissa Nadler - vocals (Xasthur (USA), Kemado Records solo artist)