The Appleseed Cast, The Fleeting Light of Impermanence

Even back when they were Yet Another Band with Melodic Guitars and Shy-Boy Vocals on an Emo Diaries comp (that’s where I first heard ’em, at least, literally 20 freaking years ago), Kansas band The Appleseed Cast was always a bit different. A bit smarter, maybe, more thoughtful and with more intent to what they were doing; they weren’t there to sing sad songs about girls — not that I don’t like those, mind you — but rather had a grander, wider-scale vision than a lot of their contemporaries.

I mean, when your second full-length is a full-on concept album (2000’s Mare Vitalis), and the double album after it (2002’s Low Level Owl, Vol. I & II) is a double concept album, well, you’ve made it pretty clear you’re not here to screw around. And five(!) albums and 17(!!) years on from that, Chris Crisci and company still aren’t.

In the intervening years they’ve changed and mutated and grown, just like bands are supposed to, and as of now, with The Fleeting Light of Impermanence, they’ve left behind a lot of their original sound. Which, again, is how it should be; I can’t speak for every Appleseed fan out there, but I’m sure as shit not the same person I was when I first rocked out to The End of the Ring Wars; it makes perfect sense that the band is not that band anymore, either.

Obviously, that could be an issue if Light sucked, but happily, it most certainly doesn’t. It’s a hypnotic, alluring, intense-yet-heavy-lidded chunk of music, pointing more towards shoegaze or anthemic instro-rock more than anything remotely “emo” and evoking skies full of beautifully turbulent clouds, so lush and thick you could cut take a scoop out of it and put it on your tongue. Lead-in track “Chaotic Waves” lays down the template, intricate and thoughtful with proggy guitar lines balanced out by swooning vocals and a gentle tempo; there’s an undercurrent of tension, to be sure, but despite the song title, the band is mostly restrained, kept in check.

“Petition” starts off with chiming, skyward-floating guitars but then drops into an almost funky, Vampire Weekend-ish rhythm, before fading down to somber-yet-sweet synths, drums, and washes of pretty noise. That kind of change-up is is something The Appleseed Cast do quite a bit here, actually; near the album’s end, “Reaching the Forest” does something similar, beginning with somber keys that sound like they belong on the Stranger Things soundtrack but then switching gears into a more jagged-edged sound, with bits of sharp, math-y guitar that bring to mind long-gone post-hardcore band No Knife.

In a way, Light feels less like a series of songs and more like little cinematic movements, each fading into one another. “Collision” is seriously reminiscent of M83 at the start, but then shifts ever-so-slightly into Band of Horses territory, all sweeping, anthemic melodies and sky-high vocals, while subtle, slow-building track “The Journey,” probably the most “rock” thing on the album, brings to mind Scots The Twilight Sad. “Asking the Fire for Medicine” goes a similar route, slow-moving and deliberate but rising to a heavy, dense churn by the end.

There’s a retro-’80s feel throughout, particularly in the keys and particularly on “Time the Destroyer,” which is more paranoiac than a lot of the rest, layering sinister strings (I think?) over tense pianos and murky keyboards, all of which serve as a backdrop for Crisci’s alternately warning and yearning vocals. Album closer “Last Words and Final Celebrations” hits like a counterpoint to that, with a sound that’s a close cousin but suffused with a whole lot of warmth, leaving you smiling as it ends.

On the whole, the album makes me think less of The Appleseed Cast’s earlier stuff and more of people like the aforementioned Band of Horses and M83, and maybe mid-period Radiohead or Mogwai at points, to boot. It’s shoegazery and gorgeous but never too sweet and pretty; there’s always a darkness buried within, always more secrets to unearth, always more sounds to hear, somehow, for the first time on each listen.

It’s funny, but I looked back at the review I wrote for The End of the Ring Wars back in 1999, and what got me then was that the album crept into my head even when I didn’t realize it; I’d be somewhere else and suddenly hum a song I couldn’t place, only clicking that it was The Appleseed Cast when I put the CD back on again. Years have passed, the band’s changed, and so have I, but listening to The Fleeting Light of Impermanence, I feel the same way I did back then.

Just like always, this is music that’s going to stick with me, burrowing deep into my brain and heart and popping its head back up right when it’s needed. How many albums — how many bands — can I say that about? Not many, believe me. Here’s hoping for another 20 years.