Norillag
Kombinat
Phage Tapes
Only making its live debut last August after a handful of tapes and one LP in the preceding seven years, the future of Vancouver percussive industrial collective Norillag is in limbo due to member relocations. If Norillag is coming to an end it’s a damned shame not just for us in Vancouver but for those in North America who never got the chance to see them perform; as we’ve discussed their performances are full-bodied, cathartic industrial rites which did well by the Test Dept. performances which directly inspired them. The good news is that Kombinat, a one-take studio recording, manages to document the live energy of this iteration of the project.
As on previous recordings, Norillag take percussive industrial back to its purest roots with flurries of percussion wrought from scrap metal, though the warmth and unity of a full band tearing through their set in studio differentiates it from more heavily edited studio works like 2024’s The Union Of Death. While the focus shifts from time to time, occasionally allowing the bass guitar which maintains a timbral floor to come to the fore, or having operatic vocals from fellow Vancity experimentalist Sainerine complete the dramatic conclusion of “Norilstroy’s Dilirium”, it’s the maelstrom of rhythmic metallic clatter, punctuated by roars from core member Natalia Hatzi-Blaak which drives Norillag forward.
For those who appreciate the classic style Norillag work with but haven’t seen them perform, Kombinat‘s lasting impression might just be its subtle yet strong compositional artistry, with the ensemble finding the right register of complexity and simplicity to match this style of instrumentation and its emotion. Opener “Sacrifice (Corpus)” snaps out of a slow murkiness in which any particular percussive strike could be taken as an incidental bit of ambiance or field recording rather than an intentional blow into a flurry of tight, dense attacks which batter the listener with regimented precision.
Neither extreme of Norillag’s moods wears out its welcome, either. Whether on the brooding “Solar Economy” which possibly takes a page from the dynamics of black metal or on (ironically brief) “Nine Consecutive Months Of Winter” which makes a virtue of lightning quick interplay between percussionists, no moment in the overall suite’s half hour minute runtime feels indulgently aimless nor does it lose its intensity due to sensory overload. Kombinat ensures that whatever the future might hold, the pure raw fury of Norillag’s live work will reach out beyond the limits of East Vancouver.
