WHIMM - No Promotion WHIMM

WHIMM formed around the shadowy heart of the Toronto post-punk underground over a decade ago. The partnership between Mounir Al Shami and Andrew Matthews has emitted sporadic musical shards over time, while slowly evolving into something so much bigger than its beginnings. Ideas seep out of every corner of No Promotion, showcasing a burning desire to explore and challenge while delivering very direct sonic offerings. The result is an album that feels as if you took the entire Coil discography and smashed it into pieces, assembling these precious songs from the fragments. Or as if Vangelis beckoned Section 25 to the studio in hopes of recording the score to a seedy film. The resulting LP is in a state of flux—equal parts motion and decay.

Patrick Flegel, of Cindy Lee, welcomed Al Shami and Matthews into REALISTIK Studios in Montreal to engineer half of the tracks for the album, including lending guitar to the opening track Five in Decline. That influence is evident early on, as the first three songs are taken from those sessions. Five in Decline throbs and barks before racing through the hallways closing in around it. Another Labour slows to a spidery waltz as anxious melodies call out to one another. Returnal pulses, floats through the night sky and haunts you forever. Rye carves a percussive pathway toward similar travellers like Terry Riley and Jon Hassell, before the lament of A Death Remembered forms the perfect midpoint for the record. A slow build countered by twitching drums and blanketed by organs recorded at Metropolitan United Church in Toronto, it feels like emotion right on the edge of resolve.

Rhymes of December screeches through on a solitary train under the towering cityscape as the flickering lights blur past, its doors opening to the candlelit altar of After the Last Sky (those beautiful organs again) with an operatic swirl. K’20 throws you into a claustrophobic and chaotic cab ride (Who is talking? Are those sirens?) until you finally find the quiet of the early morning, waiting at the window for the sun to join you once again as the first notes of No Promotion are delicately plucked. The final song from the Flegel sessions, it is over eight minutes of contemplative beauty. A restless heart that is ready to rest. Closing with a final apparition in the key of The Caretaker, After the Last Sky (Reprise) is a return to melody when words lose all meaning.

Al Shami and Matthews weave their lyrics throughout, words describing a search for lucidity, and of reactions and reflections. Al Shami—speaking from the Palestinian diaspora—ruminates on displacement, both personal and collective. His journey from having “been without a land and I can still see clearly” in Rhymes of December to a more defiant “we will be back again, no matter how it ends or where we’ve been” in Returnal takes a very insular turn on No Promotion. That sense of alienation pulls at the very centre of a relationship when land and circumstances separate: “And after our last breath, all that’s left in me is our flesh and fears, your last words would swim for years, you’ll never find a home in me.” Hearts on the outskirts that know the direction.