Due to this self-produced album's near industry standard professionalism, you'd never know by only listening to it and paying no mind to the liner notes that Jovian Oblivion is mainly just one guy with a few helpers pitching in here and there. Brent Matney is the mad scientist behind this project; he wrote, arranged, performed and mastered these fifteen songs all on his lonesome. Whether the finished product of any endeavor of this nature is praiseworthy or not, one-person bands are already commendable in their own merit thanks largely to the exclusiveness. However, through the considerable quality of this release, Matney raises the bar on super-solo, super-independent releases and successfully carves out a standout niche for himself. A madcap, over the top, and creative romp to say the least, Frontier of Darkness is one of the more intriguing concept albums in recent times.
This new outing from the catalogue is the type of record that wears a myriad of obvious influences sternly on its sleeve but still endorses enough of its own ideas to remain unendingly fresh and free of any lemming notions. Moreover, Jovian Oblivion is homage to uncompromising risk taking, never afraid to sacrifice mass audience acceptance in order to push aural boundaries. A lot is going on from song to song via Easter Egging melodies and sweeping volatility. Yet, Jovian Oblivion showcases an admirable knack for keeping the tunes well constructed, genuinely challenging, and consistently fun to listen to all at the same time. It's a more than welcome testament of Matney's skills (and humble persona) since 99% of experimental albums are overly self-indulgent and masturbatory.
The record's sound is concentrated on temperamental, opaque palettes of psychedelia that swing in and out of odd timing structures and faux mid-tempo rhythms. If one can image a stylish blend of their favorite progressive artists going on a trippy acid binge with the most decorated alumni of stoner and Black Sabbath-charged rock, then this LP is going to be a welcome addition to the roster.
Since Frontier of Darkness isn't particularly distinct to one style of rock, or several for that matter, the most notable vehicle that trademarks the recording is the immensely bizarre vocal approach. Matney fluctuates in staccato form between bellowing, quasi operatic vocals and sonically distorted wails that pack so much reverb pitch that the late Layne Staley would sound like he's coming raw on his band's last self-titled LP. Arguably, the most appealing uses of this practice go to the wired "Evil Man" and the awesome Tomahawk-esque groove of "Banish Me." Jovian Oblivion pushes the envelope the furthest on "The Mask Behind The Face," "Window Pane," and "Blue Dot." These are often more ambient and haunting on the instrumental side of things. Plus, relying on even more vocal drudgery, they call to mind a digital version of non-gargled drowning.
However, not all of the songs follow the same pattern mentioned in the former and latter sections. The folk-like "Calm Before The Storm" utilizes almost none of the prior mentioned electronic tinkering and plays out like a would-be tribute to early Clutch work. "How Many More Wars?" is the most lyrically direct effort on the album. Politically roused, this song's mellow verses snail about like it's going be a dreary downer, but abruptly switches to an unexpected chorus of funked-out sensitivity.
As a result from this bantering chemistry query, with extended length on nearly all the songs (quirky rock usually works on a shorter format), it's doubtless that mixed bag opinions will be levied from listener to listener. Maybe a little too adventurous for its own good, Frontier of Darkness is certainly not going to be for everyone. Yet, it's also a certainty that Brent Matney never intended for it to be. For those that do show interest, this composition won't lose its luster anytime soon.
