Elyvilon’s newest project Lichenthrope is a (literal) organic splinter of the eminent dungeon synth auteur’s wider philosophy. Gone are the hymn-like synths of prior albums inspired by Finnish mythology, misty isles, or Yuletide. Lichenthrope is the transformed, miasmatic voice of Elyvilon. I can only describe the immersive, ritualistic sound as “bio-mythological.” It is good, but, unlike the Elyvilon albums, Lichenthrope’s first record, Call of the Moss Moon, is more conceptually murky and unapologetic in strangeness. A cryptic mythology suffuses the album, manifesting in something profound and simultaneously squirmy in the sound.
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Lichenthrope establishes this spliced microbe of gloomy dungeon synth with advertised “vintage Yamaha and Korg hardware.” It sounds a touch like John Carpenter if he was a type of ophiocordyceps unilateralis, but it also reminds of that old tale by Clark Ashton Smith, “The Garden of Adompha,” about a mad wizard’s garden of impossible colors at the end of eternity. The fungal perception of time on Call of the Moss Moon is infectious, gnawing away in vegetal samsara.
The first half of the album is the Lesser Vehicle of the mushroom. “Gnosis,” the opener, is knowledge of the musty apocalypse. It’s heavy with the string and synth ambiance anyone familiar with the synthesizer stylings of dungeon synth knows. “Gibbous Dream Conduit” is when the Weird Fiction transformation of doom sets in. This languorous, humming track asks: do mosses feel pain? The entire project is built on looping, organic sequences, but “Gibbous Dream Conduit” introduces the echo parallel of chimes and vibrant synths. “Mildew Scraper” is when the bazaar bells of the midnight market bellow. Lichenthrope here enters fairy woodland in the older sense of the world, faery woodland, with knockers in the hills tapping out a funeral march. Abandoning the idealized chimes of “Gibbous Dream Conduit,” “Mildew Scraper” focuses on electronic drumbeats which puts the danger in the (almost) chiptune soundscape. The beat and the heavy, resounding bell of “Mildew Scraper” establish a synthetic texture that moves like an organic, breathing symphony. It claims the title of “fungal dungeon synth” and is the best of the album. “All Honors of a Vine-Chocked Grave” (great title, old school in sound too) finishes up the pristine (to plant life) sacraments of the hidden woodlands. It’s weaker than “Mildew Scraper,” but “All Honors of a Vine-Choked Grave” is the world above as seen from below, dealing, appropriately, more in the faux-brassy “low-fi” textures. All those “honors” are an echoing dirge through the Gothic shadowlands of a remote, moss choked Upper Peninsula.
The second half of the album falls to the physical, the perishable, but, perhaps, that is preferable as to keep the air of our rarefied dreams pleasant. “Miasmatic Chamber” is the pseudo-resumption of “Mildew Scraper,” but, though darker, it is the weaker track due to its 10-minute length. As the longest track on the album, “Miasmatic Chamber” presents life seen through glowing eyes in the dark, yet prolongs the experience too much. The following song, “A Glimmering,” is much more economical. It’s a rather lonely tune, like wandering through a forest path of live ambience: crickets, frogs, wind in the branches, scuff in the dirt, piano in the night sky. The warm forest ambience acts as an interlude to draw out the cold fugues of extraterrestrial melody which dominate the second half of “A Glimmering.” “Shambling Mycomaton,” then, depicts a Hitchcock-esque monster thumping through the woods. It is built with artificial hums and computerized violin stings. One has no idea what a “mycomaton” actually is, but the synthesized pseudo-staccato raises terror at the thought of it. “Call of the Moss Moon,” the title track, carries on with that tension, but the the modulated, discordant drums provide a funky rhythm that acts as a denouement to the rest of the album, eventually evaporating into the sound of rain and distant thunder in the distance.
The moss of the crypt creeps upwards through the gutters to infect the mind of the public! One need only take a look at the looming, shamanistic silhouette by Grave Stench Stench on the cover as evidence of this mossy apotheosis. Whatever the terror or revelation, the transformation of the figure reflects Call of the Moss Moon’s invasive, biological looping through one’s mind. While it’s a little green in experimentation, the first transformation always is, so Call of the Moss Moon is an easy recommendation to anyone looking for dirges of dark, peculiar ambience.
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Call of the Moss Moon is available via Bandcamp.




