Irrespective of the continued entanglement of the various ones of the Dirty Three with a contemporary artistic conscience (paths have previously led to painting, Peej and Ally Pally), their collective presence has been gravely missed. Six years, three months, and a further six days have passed since the release of Cinder, a nimble-fingered beast of gentle disposition, one capable of untangling the most obstinate of emotional knots and although perhaps not a direct consequence of their absence, times since they've been a-troublin'. However next month, quite fortuitously for anyone and everyone feeling fragile around this typically lugubrious time of year, Bella Union are to release what the rather stupendous label are already branding a 'remarkable new album' in the form of Toward The Low Sun. Right here, right now however, skulking in the shadows of the blurb, Rising Below awaits. Something of a deconstructed symphony, Warren Ellis' hurried gushes and scrapes of violin waltz with Mick Turner's quite desolate open-string melancholia to marching drums that gather momentum, later breaking into a perspiration-inducing canter, before finally adding graciousness and great passion as they gallop toward crescendo and inevitable dwindle. Dirty Three - Rising Below
