SELF-DESCRIBED âexploratory rockâ band WL originally composed their latest release to soundtrack RenĂ© Lalouxâs bizarre 1988 animated film Gandahar, a surrealist sci-fi fable about a utopia in perfect harmony with nature thatâs suddenly under siege. Its French tag line translates to âThe Light Yearsââpresumably the inspiration for the Portland three-pieceâs new albumâs title, Light Years.
Misty Mary (vocals/bass/keyboards), Stevie Nistor (drums/keyboards), and Michael Yun (guitar/keyboards) joined forces as WL in 2012, and released their debut full-length, Hold, the following year. On Light Years, WL fleshes out all of Holdâs best moments, like the subtle intensity of its closing track, âYouâre Not Really Here.â The resulting seven tracks are stormy, complicated, and strangely beautiful.
While Light Years was initially intended to soundtrack Gandahar, after recording the band decided to partner with local artists and make it a visual album. Each song has an accompanying music video directed by a different artist, but together theyâre intended to play as one cohesive film. Itâs difficult to simultaneously master two art forms, but there are a few songs where WLâs music and the artistâs visuals are perfectly synchronized and reflective of the other.
âPink Cloudâ is a windswept dirge of intertwined organ melodies propelled by jittery tin can percussion and tempered by Maryâs vocals, which listlessly soar like a seagull riding a breeze. Its visual accompaniment finds her in all white at the waterâs edge, her silhouette highlighted in neon red and blue like weâre missing the 3D glasses necessary to see her true form (we probably areâthe bandâs bio says some videos use â3D point cloud scanning techniquesâ).
Standout âCrossingâ fools you into thinking itâs a Beach House song with its languid drum machine prelude, but quickly morphs into a solemn electro-folk ballad that sounds like Anne Briggs took the red pill. In the video, Mary sits in the front of TriMetâs number 16 bus, turned around in her seat and eerily staring back at the camera, her voice echoing like there are miles between the rows.
At the beginning of Gandahar, the utopiaâs rulers use âmirror birdsâ to see the outer limits of their world and the dangers that might threaten it. âRefractionâ seems at least in part inspired by these birds that reflect reality from afarâthe song pulses through layers of kaleidoscopic psych, with Maryâs vocals notably more distant, like she herself is a mirror bird singing from Gandaharâs outermost borders. Its visual is dominated by sunlight reflecting on mirrors and glass, making the rainbows and white light it catches look captivatingly preternatural.
Closing track âTrashâ is more than seven minutes of kraut-inspired jamming. Mary drones mystifying riddles about the future, singing âWe believe we are destined to see a true tomorrowâ like sheâs sure we wonât. Itâs an unsettling, electrifying end to a record that feels like itâs bursting with these sort of cryptic messages, sonically inscribed in an alien code. Thatâs the odd beauty of Light Yearsâit sounds both bound to the terrestrial and radioed in from a million light years away.