

Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven (2000)

Listen here:



GY!BE, a Montreal based group, are universally recognised by snobbish critics as one of the most important figures in the world of post-rock and/or instrumental rock. Describing the band’s discography as consistent is perhaps the greatest understatement of the decade, as other works such as the apocalyptic LP F# A# ∞, and the politically charged Slow Riot for New Zerø Kanada E.P. easily make their way into many “Favourite Albums of All Time” lists. Of course, Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven is no exception.

Normally, a track-by-track review or overlook of a record would be discouraged as this avoids a holistic analysis. However, LYSFLATH does not behave like a typical record should, even by post-rock standards. The 2-CD LP is split into four “movements” – two per disc. These “movements” are near-symphonic in nature by structure (and occasionally orchestration), and thus an analysis by track becomes viable to attain an overall perception of the album.

Waveforms galore!

1. “Storm” (22:32)

The LP begins with a blissful, quiet guitar melody. The light nature of the beginning is furthered by the inclusion of a calm trumpet and violin in the instrumentation. Intensity is built through a gradual crescendo until a bustling “chorus”, underlined by a rhythmic drum roll pattern.

As one well known busy music nerd once said, the middle section of the track boastfully mimics “Amazing Grace”, to an incredible degree that it almost becomes a cover. For example, the guitar plays the following with an accompanying violin countermelody:

Incredibly similar! But not lacking in genuineness.

At 12:08, we hit an abrupt turning point in the track, dipping into a dark, ritualistic drum-driven drone. The tempo gradually comes to a laboured, braking halt. An audio tape laced with reverberant piano and ambient atmosphere, follows.

2. “Static” (22:36)

A quiet, dissonant ambient section introduces this track. “Static” is set apart by the other “movements” by the fact that one repeating melodic line underpins the majority of it:

This line is first heard in an eerie cello pizzicato, but later handed over to the violin and lead guitar, and further built upon as the band gears up in energy with the inclusion of drums and bass. 13:15 is somewhat of a “reset” in dynamics, against a new, darker drum pattern, preparing for another epic gradual crescendo, climaxing against hysterical guitars at 16:26. Dark, dark ambience concludes the track, taking its time but remaining a hypnotic experience.

This movement is perhaps the most simplistic in nature but still bursts at the seams in musical depth, relatively speaking.

3. “Sleep” (23:18)



GY!BE prove that sometimes even the simplest musical ideas can convey the greatest emotion.

A sample tape of an old man contemplating a past childhood of Coney Island is what is first heard. Not much else to say here, but a nice inclusion of the idea of “sleep” within the track.

The “meat” of the first half of the track centres around the below melody, drawn out to considerable length. Initially it is an unclear rendition of it, first in the lead guitar playing with insane vibrato (pitch modulation, wobbling, whatever term might be most applicable here). The melody becomes more distinct at 9:23, in which the drums transition from a slow ballad-like pattern to a frenzied rhythmic roll.

The second half of “Sleep” changes in identity completely, noted by a key change, and new ideas.

At 18:19, the violin and cello duo provide a sweet, pining melodic line against gorgeous drumming in, in my humble opinion the most beautiful moment of the LP:

(The cello follows the same line a 9th interval lower.) As intensity builds in a gradual crescendo, the tremolo guitar slowly takes over the strings’ role until a final, anguished outburst is made:

This simple motif is repeated with incredible passion. The guitar then follows to destabilise in pitch, almost mimicking a tearful breakdown. The feels are real.

4. “Antennas To Heaven” (18:58)

The first drum-driven section (5:32) is a sudden outburst of emotion bottled up until the moment. Here, the music seems rather raw (more wailing guitars). But this is contrasted by a beautiful, elegant instrumental ballad (10:10), revealing some of the greatest, meticulous drumming. Ahh, those snare rolls! Not to mention how soulful the lead guitar is at this point.

The fourth and final track is perhaps the most “introverted” of those in the LP, if one could ever describe such. It spends more time in either eerie sample tapes (as the track is introduced as), atmospheric, quiet noodlings (before and after the drum-driven sections), or equally haunting ambient, reverb and delay-soaked drones (concluding the record). In short, it focuses on being quiet more than it does on being loud. Yet, every moment feels significant musically.

The tape samples featured in the record fit well, as they seem to add an organic yet surreal element to the main musical content. The meaning to these samples does admittedly remain for the most part unclear. Furthermore, the instrumentation of the band is simply gorgeous. Notably are the violin, cello, trumpet and glockenspiel. A “modern symphony” is not a bad description of the album.

The band handles dynamics incredibly well in LYSFLATH too. At some points the guitars are whisper quiet to counterbalance strings, and at other points tremolo picking overflows in cacophony.

LYSFLATH provides a healthy balance of ambience, reflection and emotional frenzies, in a cohesive package that feels cinematic but sincere. The loud moments shift effortlessly to the soft – a true manifestation of what makes post-rock enjoyable.

Understandably, the record is difficult to digest for even listeners looking to instrumental rock / post-rock, due to the initially obscene “song” lengths, unstable orchestration and the unconventional structure. More accessible music under the same genre umbrella does exist, which include, off the top of my head, Explosions In The Sky or Yndi Halda. However, LYSFLATH grows into a rewarding experience. To say the least.

To end what I’m saying here in a blunt review-esque light, LYSFLATH is a favourite of mine. Its musical accomplishments are mindboggling, and conveys a raw passion that many post-rock records fail to do.

And on an extra-final note, here is an amusing augmentation of the original album cover:

Godspeed.