MUSIC REVIEW: IAKO – Paint

IAKO paints the perfect trailer to his upcoming E.P in his latest release.

black.

then blue. flashes of a mountain swee

through view, lighting up a se

of eyes. spac

ous ambie

t guitars creep in

o open up a whole ocean for a cloud of dreamy vocals to rip

le in, slow and sure. the ghostly voices circul

te on the a

r above a vast la

dscape of reverb and acous

ic guitar. each tear dro

of a delicate pi

no casts up

mages of glassy ocea

currents- raw and bi

ingly cold. on the wind, a chilling voice is whistling its subtle tune. “you kee

on s

ying,” the ghostly vo

ce repeats, as if spoke

by a broken man, with

ears streaming down his face. the

rojection on the w

ll shudders w

th every

ew sho

of the misty landsca

e. j

ngling gu

tars pull the audie

ce in

o the giant screen as the trailer begins. we didn’t come to this theatre for the trailers, but we can’t hel

but get lost in this one.

the d

rkness returns, as the words “my heart

s yours, you can pai

t i

as you want,” are

lastered on the screen. for

ll of a spl

t seco

d, silence reigns. bu

…

the words echo as the silence dies and a dee

, bruding guit

r trickles through.

waves of haunt

ng voices a

d crying piano crash upon waves of silence and con

emplation, sudden and tainted with the unsteadiness and unclarity of a crazed mind. and with them come images of a struggling world, su

hocated by mother n

ture’s dev

satio

. The switch between light and shade, the dicho

omy is so sudden, it

ushes you over into a state of uncertainty; i

ko does

‘t care for pop’s common build of momen

um.

as soft as the sea’s breeze, the instrument circles a scene of burnt forests and desolation, calling up a thunderous wave of drums and stabbing

iano chords to transform the l

ndscape to one of b

tter euphoria .”do

‘t” the wind pleas, almos

weeping in

ain. “I never feel it

nymore,” it shrieks, and w

th it images of come rushi

g into view.

aken aback by the

ainful be

uty of a world overcome by t

dal waves a

d hurricanes,

he crowd gas

.

brave gu

tar’s steady chords co

jures a dance be

ween ti

toeing pi

no and the sudden marchIng drums, as the viole

t wind screams “now i

‘s raining,” and the instruments

our into the next st

ge of the song.

an

mage flashes up o

screen – i

‘s a cou

le rushing to meet each other

s huge downpours of ra

n flood the ice arou

d them. “My hear

, my heart is yours,” the wind taunts. They’re not fast enough. The ice breaks and each is cast adrift into the unforgiving ocean of a cold instrumental, with silence following closely in hand.

Melismatic gushes of “oooooohhhh” take over the snow white landscape, carrying with them the sound of a voice akin to Jeff Buckley, and remnants of his classic known as Grace. The section is so

owerful it forces up im

ges of the destruct

on in this disaster movie, showing the full le

gth of mo

her nature’s fury.

and with the final calling card,

asted on the screen: “

s you want” the tra

ler ends. leavi

g behind remnan

s of a glorious sym

hony captured in guit

r harmon

cs. Eerie a

d gripping.

in

he cinema, the audience chatter: “iako has done it again; he has crafted a master

iece

s if from th

n air. Like a

conduc

or he commands an orchestra of airy guitars that cut through the solemn

iano to show us the sound of be

uty entw

ned with great pai

and darkness.”

his track never loses the

assion and excruci

ting beauty that h

s debut quee

of balance was doused in so perfec

ly. and the whole audience looks forward to the decent into darkness that could take over the rest of his E.P.