The bulk of the 32 minute title track on The Seer is two chords, one tritone apart from each other, played over and over again. The interval – once thought to actually be demonic – heaves back and forth, collapsing and recollecting like throwing a two-ton burlap sack of noise. Instead of crescendoing to some sweeping catharsis, the two chords remain steady and resolute, never resolving. The song doesn’t lift, it doesn’t pound, it just twists and screws and digs. It’s like: Say a word over and over and it can lose its meaning and succumb to semantic satiation. Intone a mantra or prayer every morning and it can be a spiritual guide. Have a drop of water fall on your head for seven hours and it’s torture. Watch a pendulum swing back and forth and fall into hypnosis. The volatile act of repetition yields all kinds of results ranging from pure truth and ecstasy to violence and lunacy, but the overarching theme of repetition is that it looks for what is beyond the surface. Repetition is a jackhammer trying to wrest truth from the muddy waters of the subconscious. Repetition is a wholly committed search.
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