It doesn't really sound like anyone else. Still, the collective brunt of 'Map Of Dawn' is bracingly original. But she is just as likely to conjure up visions of 'Scream'-era Siouxsie, surrounded by gauzy clouds of guitar. Occasionally, there's a way her voice combines with the coiling Eastern-tinged string parts and lazy propulsion that reminds of Grace Slick's pre-Airplane band, the Great Society. But Keelin Mayer's vocals are more of a presence this time as well. Different instrumental slices of this album might remind you of anyone from the Gun Club to Savage Republic to Amon Düül II. The bass and guitars, slither through the haze, raising up for massive strikes at times, just laying back and waiting at others. Both Shaver's Big Drum, and the additions of pedal steel player Rick Pedrosa, create a central pulse that's impossible to resist. The percussion achieves a true otherness here. Abronia's line-up has not changed since 2019's 'The Whole of Each Eye,' but their sound keeps evolving in terms of both depth and connection. When you know this fact, you can begin to appreciate the smoke as a compositional component. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact initial rehearsals took place outdoors, during which time the Pacific Northwest was on fire (both in the forests and on the streets).
There is an edge to the fried guitar and the ever more massive drumming that evokes a parched ritual of psychedelic worship. For their great third LP, this Portland OR sextet heads deep into the scalding sun of what feels like the Sonoran Desert.
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