Aurore Rien, we harly knew you.
This four-song mini-album is a warm, wonderful, stunning record, of a band that really has a clear understanding of atmospheres and noise and melody. They climb up to the highest mountain and shout down to the world; in the process of doing so, they've recorded their sonic mountain journey, and it's a grand journey to behold.
Too bad they broke up.
Yes, my friends, Aurore Rien are but a memory now. It's too bad, too; Telesthesia is a gorgeous, beautiful work that floats in and out of bliss for better than thirty minutes--and it's too bad that their band couldn't last. It's sad when bands break up; it's even sadder when a band releases a gorgeous record, but is DOA upon its release. When said break-up comes at what should be the BEGINNING of a band's career, the story is a tragedy.
Trying not to think about it makes listening to Telesthesia quite difficult. Their haunting melodies, vocals that are almost chants, and a dark, brooding, atmosphere are all expertly done--even better than some of the recent releases from bands who I've seen Aurore Rien compared to! My personal favorite--and perhaps the saddest song on here--is the closing "Sunsets, I Have Seen Too Many Without You." It's a haunting, slow guitar melody, one that would fit in well with the sadder parts of a romantic movie, and it closes with the same kind of haunting feeling that the closing train and barking dog samples did at the end of Pet Sounds.
So, good luck to you, fellows. I hope your solo efforts are as excellent and as beautiful as this. If they are, then the sorrow I feel for your demise will end. If not, then maybe you three can get back together again. Let's not burn our bridges too quickly, okay?
--Joseph Kyle
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