Livestream Dripping Trees

Like many bands waltzing on this troubled earth, the tale of experimental rock outfit Dripping Trees once revolved around cheap thrills, escapism, and what the general populace would describe as ‘having a good time’. Some bands prefer to stay within this mirthful purgatory, running that treadmill until their old corporeal shells can no longer sustain their spry souls.

But such a fate would not befall Dripping Trees. At one particular junction, the Dutch quartet found themselves unplugged from the foggy romanticism that seems so synonymous with the term ‘rock ‘n’ roll’. Though the tools of choice remain largely the same, Dripping Trees opt for an immersive sound that explores skulking, slow-burning dynamics, ghoulish gospel and rustic cob-webbed grandeur. After much experimentation, it became a band at odds with its own dramatic tendencies, deliberately suspending disbelief like a bad reality show.

The band’s upcoming debut LP Fuel Of Mankind explores this inherently human trait like a flock of scavengers picking a carcass clean to the very last bone. Humankind has always used fiction as a way to goad their supposed dominion over the world. Yet at the same time, our Pavlovian instincts act as a natural foil, creating an environment of lawlessness where terms like ‘truth’ and ‘order’ are mere facsimiles. On Fuel Of Mankind, Dripping Trees entertain this notion with infectious glee: they underpin their sinister sprawls of post-rock and slowcore with farcical computer-vocalized vignettes, essentially questioning all the performative emotion in their own work. The gist of it is clear: the human gift for storytelling is a double-edged sword. Sure, it can help make sense of the chaos inherent in this universe, but it can also bend a large group of individuals to a toxic cause.

By fracturing their layered, impressionistic art-punk forays with these goofy interludes, Dripping Trees position themselves as ambiguous observers within their own self-shaped dwellings. Songs frequently address the more absurd chapters of human existence. ‘Alba’, for instance, is named after the genetically modified glow-in-the-dark rabbit, a project in which science and art became scandalous lovers. The crepuscular noise rock of ‘Distant Light’ could be considered a warped love song, beckoning and rejecting the listener at an increasingly tense pace until the chase becomes the objective. The moonstricken folk-rock of ‘We Are Leaving Soon’ highlights a quest for beauty in both sound and verb, a gasp of relief in accepting the end.

In a way, one could consider Fuel Of Mankind Dripping Trees’ fulfilling their own vitriolic, bemused take on the hackneyed ‘band mythology’ – for lack of a better word. These four individuals began their journey to escape from reality, then opted to wallow in that very reality, only to end up standing outside of it like a bunch of plucky explorers of their own muddled mortal condition. Like the story of Alba the Rabbit, Dripping Trees invite all sorts of sentiments within a single frame: their music can be beautiful, erotic, absurd and frightening all at once. Suffice it to say, we are all abundantly entertained.

SHORT
Dutch quartet Dripping Trees opt for an immersive sound that explores skulking, slow-burning dynamics, ghoulish gospel and rustic cob-webbed grandeur. After much experimentation, it became a band at odds with its own dramatic tendencies, deliberately suspending disbelief like a bad reality show.

The band’s upcoming debut LP Fuel Of Mankind explores an environment of lawlessness where terms like ‘truth’ and ‘order’ are mere facsimiles. Dripping Trees entertain this notion with infectious glee: they underpin their sinister sprawls of post-rock and slowcore with farcical computer-vocalized vignettes, essentially questioning all the performative emotion in their own work.

Songs frequently address the more absurd chapters of human existence. ‘Alba’, for instance, is named after the genetically modified glow-in-the-dark rabbit, a project in which science and art became scandalous lovers. The crepuscular noise rock of ‘Distant Light’ could be considered a warped love song, beckoning and rejecting the listener at an increasingly tense pace until the chase becomes the objective. The moonstricken folk-rock of ‘We Are Leaving Soon’ highlights a quest for beauty in both sound and verb, a gasp of relief in accepting the end. Indeed, like the story of Alba the Rabbit, Dripping Trees invite all sorts of sentiments within a single frame: their music can be beautiful, erotic, absurd and frightening all at once.

Tune in on twitch.tv/livekreek

NL
Dripping Trees kiest voor een meeslepende sound overlopend van vuur-en-zwavel dynamiek, noise en vertellende verbeeldingskracht. Als ogen die wennen aan het donker begon het kwartet uit Eindhoven – na veelvuldig te experimenteren – bewust te raken van zijn eigen dramatische neigingen.

Het aankomende debuut Fuel Of Mankind verkent een omgeving van wetteloosheid waar termen als ‘waarheid’ en ‘orde’ slechts onderdeel van een simulatie zijn. Hoewel ze de donkerste hoofdstukken van de mensheid verkennen, omarmt Dripping Trees het creatieve proces met zowel geneugte als gezonde scepsis: sinistere uitstapjes van post-rock en slowcore krijgen een koude emmer van kluchtige computer-interludes over zich heen, waarbij de band in wezen alle emoties binnen het eigen werk in twijfel trekt.

Nummers gaan vaak over de meer absurde hoofdstukken van het menselijk bestaan. ‘Alba’ is bijvoorbeeld vernoemd naar het genetisch gemodificeerde glow-in-the-dark konijn, een project waarin wetenschap en kunst smadende minnaars werden. De schemerige noise pop van ‘Distant Light’ is een soort luguber liefdeslied dat de luisteraar in een steeds strakker gespannen tempo wenkt en afwijst totdat de achtervolging uiteindelijk het doel wordt.

De obscure folkrock van ‘We Are Leaving Soon’ belicht een zoektocht naar schoonheid in zowel klank als woord, een zucht van opluchting bij het accepteren van het einde. Inderdaad, net als het verhaal van Alba het Konijn, brengt Dripping Trees allerlei soorten gevoelens naar boven: hun muziek kan tegelijkertijd mooi, erotisch, absurd en beangstigend zijn.

Tune in on twitch.tv/livekreek