Paul Jebanasam, “mātr” (Subtext, 2025)
It has been nearly a decade since this Bristol-based composer/sound designer last surfaced with a new album, but that long wait makes sense given his love of grand statements and weighty cerebral themes. In keeping with that trend, mātr shares its title with Jebanasam’s recently completed doctoral thesis “connecting sound and temporality” and packs an intentional dual meaning that references both matter and the Sanskit word for “mother.” Unsurprisingly, Jebanam’s inspirations for both his thesis and this album extended far beyond the usual musical signposts, drawing in influences as wide-ranging as German sculptor/painter Anselm Kiefer, Italian theoretical physicist Carlo Rovelli, American poet Jorie Graham, and one of my all-time favorite directors (Andrei Tarkovsky). Fittingly, one of my favorite composers was a significant inspiration as well, as Jebanasem elegantly blurred together the timeless spiritual minimalism of Arvo Pärt with Tim Hecker-style “power ambient” to craft yet another soon-to-be-iconic Subtext magnum opus.
The opening “be earth now” provides an especially excellent introduction to Jebanasam’s vision, as a host of roiling, shivering, rumbling, and static-ravaged chord fragments gradually converge into a sensuously undulating and hissing whole and it is pretty fucking beautiful to watch it all come together. In fact, it feels like the sonic equivalent of a gorgeous slow-motion meteor shower. Aside from the immediately obvious gorgeousness, I was quite struck by Jebanasam’s nuanced compositional genius, as “be earth now” sounds like an elegantly deconstructed Tim Hecker album in which all of the sizzling and layered harmonic and textural maximalism has been pulled apart to leave behind only the warm glow of a simple melodic theme amidst some smoldering and crackling ruins. It is quite a sublime and immersive spell and a beautifully abstract one at that, as Jebanasam’s shivering and flickering glimpses of heaven prove to be impressively rapturous and soulful. Actual beautiful melodies are great, but the enigmatic suggestion of one is perhaps even greater.
The rest of the album can definitely be described as six more variations on the same theme, but it is such a rich theme that it remains endlessly compelling throughout its successive incarnations. In fact, it feels like fucking sorcery, as Jebanasam’s gradually unearthed melodies are rarely particularly striking on their face, but they certainly feel quite beautiful in their context. The beauty of mātr is an abstract, profound, and ineffable one, as it is shaped by mystery, suggestion, space, and contrast more than by individual melodies or harmonies. At its best, mātr evokes an organ mass defiantly emanating from a partially bombed-out cathedral lit by flaring and fading embers in a landscape of blackened ruins.
In short, this is top-tier sacred minimalism. It also happens to be top-tier sound design, as damn near every sound crackles, smolders, flares, seethes, and sizzles with life and Jebanasam is just as adept at capturing creaks of wood, room tone, and unadorned piano melodies as he is at evoking more seismic, fiery, and apocalyptic events. To my ears, this is Paul Jebanasam’s masterpiece, as his epic, widescreen vision and prodigious sound design talents have always been impressive in the same ways that great architecture is impressive: traits like vision, scale, design, and detail. With mātr, that mastery and majesty has finally been combined with its perfect counterbalance of soul, mystery, and timeless wonder. This album feels sacred and profound in all the right ways. I am properly gobsmacked.
Listen here.
