As Eskmo, Brendan Angelides keeps his tension on a short leash.
The music of Brendan Angelides, aka Eskmo, is vague and mist-like. Even when there are lyrics to be sung and melodies to be followed, the chamber-minded, electronically inclined collective conjure music that is only occasionally outlined by blurry lines. SOL's awakening moments are defined more by what is absent rather than what is present. As "SpVce" drifts into "Combustion", the atmosphere grows denser with synth burbles, strings and elongated passages.
SOL puts a few "song" chess pieces into motion like the ambient "Blue and Grey" and the near-industrial "Mind of War". The tension of the latter is certainly detectable, but the fact that Angelides never lets it boil over is either the sign of tasteful restraint, a singular vision, or a combination of the two. Combine this with the simmer of an instrumental like "The Light of One Thousand Furnaces" and you've got a very unusual album.