Many aspects contribute to the successful creation of an album, like cohesiveness, a sense of direction, and whether the band members can even tolerate one another. Exceedingly hard to do, is work through the trials and tribulations the Portland-based Aan endured. In the liner notes for their latest album Over The Mountain, they highlight the project was “written and recorded in the aftermath of 2020’s world-stopping quarantine and the infernal West Coast wildfires of 2021, as well as multiple personal tragedies for the band.” Despite that, they’ve managed to deliver a soulful psych-rock compilation of sounds brought to life by members Bud Wilson (lead vocals, guitars), Travis Leipzig (bass), Dana Valatka (drums), Andrew Lawson (synthesizers), Zak Nelson (guitar), and JT Lindsey (synthesizers). Over The Mountain dives brain-first into the melancholy and suadade of those times, pinballing from sun-kissed poppy-ness to shocks of electro and even a touch of a samba sashay. Quite a feat in itself, as they themselves admit.
True to the tumultuous period this album was written in, there’s a recurring motif of perseverance in the music, tied together with the different ways rock and rollers deal with tragedy. For example, the shrill radiance of the first track, “My Body,” begins with a tearful guitar line and a Joy Division-esque drum pattern (think stage reverb on a locomotive beat), before being upended to perfection with a falsetto vocal line trilling, “My body is all I have.” Considering this was written during the pandemic, you don’t have to read too much into the lyrics, as it’s most likely indicative of that mortality realization we all experienced at the time. However, Aan isn’t a band that stews in the depths—they pick themselves back up, look at the grand scheme of things, and dust off the cobwebs to enjoy the many gifts available in the present. From the lyrical context confronting the fragility of life yet endures on, to the shifts in mood between sorrow and soaring emotions, all of it reinforces the idea of overcoming hardship.
After all, why wallow down when you can mellow out—which is exactly the mindset of the next track. The green-tinted glasses are strapped on for “Black Hole,” a stoner paradise of a song thanks to lyrics like “I’m on a wave of light, Pan-astral highway, Gardens of stars ablur.” Leipzig’s bass slides and see-saws through a wompler of effects, while guitar solos abound and reverb-drenched vocals complete the sonic trip. If you’re a fan of sounds that mix Zero 7 with a more rock and roll tinge à la the Psychedelic Porn Crumpets, you’ll dig this song. Heck, even if you’re a hermit who hates terms like ‘flower power’ and ‘Far out, man,’ you’ll probably still move a toe or two.
Aan’s music covers a range of sensibilities, from the shimmery guitars and driving rhythms on songs like “Laced and Lost,” reminiscent of Death Cab for Cutie, to the Tame Impala-like “Dope Magic,” which combines complex grooves with expansive, resonant spaces. In fact, fans of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s wildly diverse discography will likely appreciate Aan’s varied styles. Take “Waiting Around,” for instance—it showcases sudden and often unrepeated bursts of riffy goodness, alongside understated harmonized guitar lines shadowing the piercing pipes of Wilson’s punchy, distorted vocals. While all of it is carried on a repeating drum beat, it’s impossible to predict what the song will do next. Definitely a standout. The industrial synths are brought to the fore for the hypnotic “Break the World in Two,” which features a vocal temperament distinctly Thom Yorke-tinged—fragile and hauntingly expressive. This tune breaks the mold of the previous tracks, going into more of an alternative space that mixes the staccato breakbeats of Portishead with the otherworldly atmospheres of the aforementioned Radiohead. Strangely (and delightfully) enough, it ends with a harmonized guitar line that’s kind of Middle-Eastern, almost like an Opeth interlude.
That’s where the band’s magic lies—just when you think you’ve got them down pat, they whip another technicolor rabbit out of the hat. If you’re still not convinced; well, there’s a samba swing on the track “Neon Orange Leash,” working in conjunction with the wonders of a delay pedal to confuse the brain on where it wants to travel. Far from being a weakness, this achieves a fusion form that’s perfectly simpatico. Wilson achingly croons, “Freedom, like a hole too small to crawl through,” and you have to ponder whether this song was written about the trapped feelings that were all-consuming during the pandemic. “Smile,” eases out the final installment of this album—it’s an introspective piece of writing, with lyrics like “I sell myself a real-life dream, It’s all been broken down.” Maybe they’re describing the relief from understanding how the pieces fit together—where the breakdown’s initial pain gives way to a clearer view of how each part contributes to the whole. Electronic soundscapes and dreamy textures, overlaid with ebbing and flowing vocal harmonies make up most of the instrumentation. The track is a good culmination of callbacks to the various sounds on the album, from the blissful profundity of “My Body,” to the low-end groove of “Black Hole.” Also, it’s a short and sweet way to bring the listener back to reality.
To truly experience this album, listen to it in one go, ideally in the warm embrace of the spring sun, with the gentle tickle of grass on your undersides. Don’t be afraid to dive into the depths of their melodic spectrum, because even if the lyrics may sometimes cut deep, it’s mostly offset by their holistic perspective and uplifting instrumentation. Aan has crafted a kaleidoscopic journey through distinct moods and intricate auditory terrains, all under the spinning umbrella of psychedelic rock. On the whole, Over The Mountain is a true celebration of perseverance through turbulent times and how to transcend them.
