Reviewed - 03/10/06

The Galilean Satellites
[Translation Lost Records]

Unknown bands coming out with their debut releases usually don't sound this good. But then again, they usually don't begin their musical careers with double disc assaults of harsh metal, electronic soundscapes, and introspective episodes of emotion, all expertly arranged and packaged in an extra-thick eye-catching digipack. Rosetta's first album, "The Galilean Satellites," is all this and more. I had no idea what to expect before listening to the first disc of this two-CD debut. And I thought I knew what to expect when I popped in the second disc. This is a band that is full of surprises, not the least of which is the quality of their music. According to Rosetta, founded in 2003, "these songs are about a space man." One can only wonder what planet these four Philadelphians originally hail from.

There are two sides to Rosetta, with each disc presenting a different side. And despite stark musical and stylistic differences between the two, both are surprisingly similar in mood and effect. The first half of "The Galilean Satellites" is thick, fuzzy metal the likes of Neurosis or Isis. It is doomy, strongly distorted, and not especially complex or dynamic. Five tracks span almost an hour; the shortest song on this disc is over eight minutes, and three tracks exceed ten minutes in length each. Vocals are always harsh and screamed, though it is a guttural scream closer to those of death metal than black metal or metalcore. Let there be no doubt: Rosetta are certainly extreme metal, of a doomy and lethargic vein.

That's not to say this is a boring or monotonous album. At least, not exclusively. Drummer BJ (also the album's engineer) is more than willing to drop into some complex jazz percussion or even slam out a high-speed blast beat. This is slow murky fuzz metal, but it is still brutal and extreme. And that is part of what makes Rosetta so unique: they are able to write sixteen-minute adventures in meandering metal and ambient anger, and inject enough spice into them to kick up the heat for those willing to take the trip more than once or twice.

The second disc is a far cry from heavy metal, but it does retain the same sense of slow, methodic evolution and distortion. It is almost exclusively ambient, with smooth electronic washes and startling sound effects, interspersed with snippets of human voice (both sound clips and ambient extreme growling), guitar melodies and various synthetic textures. The second half of "The Galilean Satellites" is also in the range of one hour in length, composed of five songs between eight and sixteen minutes in length. And much like its companion disc, the second half of this album can be both engaging and illusive, a dream taking place in the background or the soundtrack to death by asphyxiation in the cold, airless depths of outer space. If you like the music of Encomiast or Philip Glass, you will probably enjoy this disc.

(Interestingly, my computer's CD player cannot differentiate between the two discs. I program in the track names and everything for the first disc, and it assigns the same track names to the second disc. The music is obviously different, but any changes I make to the track listing of the second disc is then reflected when I pop in the first disc again. It may be that the program I use to play CDs is an older one, but I have never come across such an issue before.)

Rosetta's music quickly fades into a constant wash of distortion and anger, of harsh doom and futile regret. It is passionate, and it is ambient. Each disc becomes one single song, track fading into track, themes presenting themselves over the course of five to ten minutes rather than on a riff-by-riff basis. The first disc varies in weight, occasionally delving into more meditative fare but always maintaining a sense of aggression and distortion. The second disc is eerie, ethereal, and artificial. But each is a journey in and of itself, drawing the listener along like an astronaut tethered to a shuttle orbiting an alien world. This is my second Translation Loss Records disc, with the first being by the similarly epic fuzz metal band Cable. Both bands have done wonders to convince me of the merits of ten-minute brutal swamp doom elegies. And Rosetta's inclusion of pure ambient ups the ante even more.

Not only is the music of Rosetta's debut impressive, but the packaging is top-notch as well. "The Galilean Satellites" comes in a double foldout digipack, extra wide and covered in the Rorschach-like abstract art of Aaron Turner (Isis and Old Man Gloom, amongst others). Apparently, only the first 1,000 copies come in this limited edition packaging - and many thanks to Translation Loss Records for providing such a special edition for reviewing purposes! - but if there are any more copies of this version available, I highly recommend tracking one down. A simple cardboard envelop won't earn a bad review for a good album, but quality packaging and quality production always benefit a band's endeavors.

Not that "The Galilean Satellites" needs much help from packaging. Rosetta's debut is a massive onslaught of ambient fuzz and mud-thick extreme metal, and is so amazingly epic and ambitious, it may be more than most music listeners can absorb and comprehend in one sittings. But for those who have patience when it comes to their heavy metal (or ambient), "The Galilean Satellites" should move and impress as well as the works of bands twice their age and with five times the number of releases. Don't expect Rosetta's "The Galilean Satellites" to jump up and knock you over the head... but instead, be wary of its ability to lull you into a deep slumber from which there may be no coming back. Then again, you might not want to.