Monolithic Undertow: In Search of Sonic Oblivion

by Harry Sword

Monolithic Undertow alights a crooked path across musical, religious, and subcultural frontiers, exploring a concept that is often described as 'the drone'. Harry Sword traces the line from neolithic Indo-European traditions to the modern underground by way of mid-20th Century New York, navigating a beguiling topography of archeoacoustics, ringing feedback, chest plate sub bass, avant-garde eccentricity, and fervent spiritualism.

From ancient beginnings to bawdy medieval troubadours, Sufi mystics to Indian raga masters, North Mississippi bluesmen to cone-shattering South London dub reggae sound systems, Hawkwind's Ladbroke Grove to the outer reaches of Faust, Ash Ra Temple and sonic architects like La Monte Young, Brian Eno, and John Cale, the opium-fueled fug of The Theatre of Eternal Music to the caveman doom of Saint Vitus, the cough syrup reverse hardcore of Swans to the seedy VHS hinterland of Electric Wizard, ritual amp worship of Earth and Sunn O))) and the many touch points in between, Monolithic Undertow probes the power of the drone: something capable of affording womb-like warmth or evoking cavernous dread alike.

This story does not start in the twentieth century underground: the monolithic undertow has bewitched us for millennia. The book takes the drone not as codified genre but as an audio carrier vessel deployed for purposes of ritual, personal catharsis, or sensory obliteration, revealing also a naturally occurring auditory phenomenon spanning continents and manifesting in fascinatingly unexpected places.

Monolithic Undertow will be a book about music and the very human need for transcendence and intoxication through sound. It seeks to reveal the drone as a tool of personal liberation that exists far outside the brittle confines of commodity culture.

Genres: Music, Nonfiction, Art, History

464 pages, Hardcover

First published June 9, 2020

Reviews

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

My perfect book. Sounds I didn’t know I needed, worlds I didn’t know of. Many hours of listening to come. So easy to read and get lost in.

[George Bate · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting meander through the drone-iverse. It's best to approach this as a conversational piece that piques the interest across a range of loosely connected musics, rather than as something that will provide a deep exploration of a particular subject or idea. There's nothing wrong with that of course, but those looking for any kind of formalised academic exercise should search elsewhere; this is very much a "popular music book" about not so popular music! Sword's is an enjoyable prose, and he sometimes comes up with a stonking description, though he also occasionally over-relies on certain tics ("ley lines" was a bit annoying for me). A throughly enjoyable read though for sure. There's certainly a few more artists that have gone onto my "to hear" list as a result of reading.

[Nigeyb · Rating 4 out of 5]

Monolithic Undertow: In Search of Sonic Oblivion (2020) is not a run of the mill music book. Harry Sword explores how the drone, or drone music, has a long and rich history. From early primitive instruments through sacred chants and onward into modern music, he finds evidence everywhere. This exploration embraces The Beatles, The Velvet Underground, Alice Coltrane, Sun 0))), the Stooges, Sonic Youth, the Master Musicians of Joujouka, amongst many more.

It would be easy to view these investigations as the height of pretentiousness, however I must confess I lapped it all up. Monolithic Undertow takes you on a wonderful journey and is very readable and often quite amusing. An unusual but provocative book and one which sent me away with a host of new sounds and artists to investigate.

4/5



More about…

Monolithic Undertow alights a crooked path across musical, religious, and subcultural frontiers, exploring a concept that is often described as 'the drone'. Harry Sword traces the line from neolithic Indo-European traditions to the modern underground by way of mid-20th Century New York, navigating a beguiling topography of archeoacoustics, ringing feedback, chest plate sub bass, avant-garde eccentricity, and fervent spiritualism.

From ancient beginnings to bawdy medieval troubadours, Sufi mystics to Indian raga masters, North Mississippi bluesmen to cone-shattering South London dub reggae sound systems, Hawkwind's Ladbroke Grove to the outer reaches of Faust, Ash Ra Temple and sonic architects like La Monte Young, Brian Eno, and John Cale, the opium-fueled fug of The Theatre of Eternal Music to the caveman doom of Saint Vitus, the cough syrup reverse hardcore of Swans to the seedy VHS hinterland of Electric Wizard, ritual amp worship of Earth and Sunn O))) and the many touch points in between, Monolithic Undertow probes the power of the drone: something capable of affording womb-like warmth or evoking cavernous dread alike.

This story does not start in the twentieth century underground: the monolithic undertow has bewitched us for millennia. The book takes the drone not as codified genre but as an audio carrier vessel deployed for purposes of ritual, personal catharsis, or sensory obliteration, revealing also a naturally occurring auditory phenomenon spanning continents and manifesting in fascinatingly unexpected places.

Monolithic Undertow will be a book about music and the very human need for transcendence and intoxication through sound. It seeks to reveal the drone as a tool of personal liberation that exists far outside the brittle confines of commodity culture.

[Patrick · Rating 3 out of 5]

A fascinating work in places, but let down by some stylistic or editorial choices - for a book whose intro begins firmly in the stoner/doom/drone axis, and whose artwork and sales pitch seems to sit equally in that area, a scant chapter is dedicated to the likes of Earth, Sunn O))) and The Melvins, while Black Sabbath don't make an appearance until at least two thirds of the way through.

That's not to say that the prior chapters are inessential; points of Hawkwind, LaMonte Young, Krautrock, and the influence of Ravi Shankar and Indian ragas on western music are very well made and their significance convincingly argued, and with impressive depth.

What lets the book down is a tendency towards Nick Kent-esque glorification of the drug-addled experience of some of this music (admittedly, not to be overlooked when discussing rave music or Sleep, but it grates after a while), and some repetition of metaphor and analogy that should have been picked up. The same comparison being made multiple times in a single chapter is off-putting. There also some tangents which, while entertaining, feel like the writer is going off-piste in order to talk about some personal favourite artists far more than ensuring that he's sticking to the topic of drone - it's hard to justify how Neu!'s "Hallogallo" or the music of Andrew Weatherall could be considered drone, no matter how brilliant it is, and in places it seems that drone, minimalism and repetition are conflated, while a section on hauntology seems to exist purely because it's trendy, rather than because it's relevant.

If you're fascinated by the drone/doom genre specifically, this book may seem a disappointment, but if you have a more broader interest in the making of music generally, and particularly in the fringes of popular music - from Alice Coltrane to Neurosis by way of John Cale - I would thoroughly recommend this, and make sure you've got a notebook or a Spotify account handy as many songs and artists are written about in such a way as to make you want to put the book down and stick their record on immediately.

[Joseph · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not life changing for me because I already know and love so much of the music discussed. But it has changed my perspective by showing the thread that connects drone-adjacent music. I understand more and will listen differently. So maybe it is life changing. Also, John Cale rules.

[sean · Rating 2 out of 5]

qualification I: this review succeeds and is certainly to some degree influenced by my accidentally stumbling into a harsh noise gig last week sans earplugs that genuinely triggered my flight or fight response. which is crazy because until then i didn't believe that the fight or flight response was a real thing. basically i came to understand—in what may have genuinely constituted the worst seven minutes of my life—the riots at the rite of spring premiere more intimately than at any point of the three years in which i lived with a bassoonist that played the rite of spring’s famed opening wail literally every day.

qualification II: this book was like definitely made with love. for what it lacked in theoretical rigor, editing, etc. it certainly made up for with passion. also i genuinely liked the first few chapters and the one on krautrock and also the last one. all this is to say i feel really bad trashing an author who is very much still alive and passionate about the work he does and whose writing has undeniable redeeming qualities.


that being said i really really really really didn’t like this book. like a lot. like… please try to riddle me what ornette coleman, john cage, the beatles, the velvet underground, sonic youth, the stooges, black sabbath, aphex twin, black flag, and sleep have in common. surprisingly the answer—according to this book—lies beyond that they all make kind of annoying music for really annoying guys. rather, this book seeks to make the case that all of these /mu/core freaks make music that reiterates The Primordial Drone or whatever. what!?!?

like… this book is very charming insofar as it’s literally just one guy writing about music he likes that has nothing in common. like maybe we should hold space for that or whatever. but like 400 pages of reading about shitty dudes on drugs mostly thinking high school thoughts and making music that sounds bad on purpose is not fun. and like… even coming from a perspective where i like have been formally educated in appreciating avant-garde electronic music from the first half of the 20th century and listen almost exclusively to minimalist/drone/ambient whatever music atm… this was a struggle. personally—and i say this with the inflection of donald trump discussing noted pow john mccain—i like music that doesn’t sound bad.

i think also it’s part of a thing where every once in a while i try to read a work of music journalism completely forgetting that i absolutely hate the way that all music journalists write. phrases i struggled with frequently in this book include “…a paean to…”, “music for real heads”, self-references to “the Monolithic Undertow sonic universe”, &c. one phrase i highlighted specifically because it made me so angry was “flailing dunderhead heaviosity” (p. 240). What the Hell does That Mean. also again these really specific and annoying turns of phrase frequently were repeated sometimes twice on the same page. also there were a lot of really poorly integrated quotes and typos and every single subheading started the same exact way. i don’t like to critique voice or editing because writing is really really hard and like the one time i interviewed to work as an editing assistant the hiring manager told me that i “obviously don’t know the first thing about editing” but nevertheless...

ultimately i think reading this made me sad because there is such an obvious dearth of vocabulary for writing about music in like a rigorous and serious way. also i really hate the way bozos use the term “hauntology” to describe music. also i think i struggle with the fact that upon investigation, most men who make music are really really really stupid. idk. it’s all love. this book helped me to fall asleep a lot of nights. also e2-e4 by manuel göttsching is awesome. a charitable two stars or whatever.

[Tom]

An entertaining tour through musical history which effectively culminates in the drone/doom of Sunn O))), Sleep, Electric Wizard, etc. The introduction mentions that the book was originally intended to be a history of doom metal and I think it's helpful to still think of it in these terms because otherwise the choices made about what to include/exclude might seem odd. Without that frame in mind, it can feel like the focus on drone has been forgotten at some points so that the author can write about whatever music they particularly like (e.g. the sections about punk).

The author obviously had to be selective (and I think they did a good job of it, all things considered) but, personally, I would have liked to read more about the ambient-drone world (Stars of the Lid don't even merit a mention?!) and dub (which receives a few illustrative references but no extended treatment beyond the short section on The Bug/Kevin Martin). All that said, I had a great time reading this and my to-listen pile has inevitably grown as a result.

[Stefan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Monolithic Undertow


The beginning and end of this book are quite good. In the beginning, he writes about the role of the drone in spiritual ritual, ancient rites, attempts to reach some sort of transcendence in different cultures (although one could argue that he should have noted the difference in the acoustic qualities of a Maltese underground burial chamber when it was used as such and hence full of dead bodies and its empty state today). The last part includes bands such as (early) Earth and Sunn O))) who have the drone at the very center of their general sound; he ventures into ambient (Eno, Radique, Davachi) and hives readers a solid list of music to experience. However, everything in between is quite random. That is mostly the case because Sword tries very hard to find any form of drone or “undertow” in the music/ bands that he likes and he often finds it even though it’s not really there or at least doesn’t play an important role in the sound of a particular artist / band. He often conflates repetition or noise with drone even though in the beginning, he explains that “drone” basically means “sustain” just to ignore this definition in the chapters that follow.
Instead of looking at music with actual sustain/ drone sounds at the center
, the author talks about many well-known bands and artists (The Beatles, John Coltrane, Sonic Youth, …) in whose songs he finds even a hint of drone and it is especially in this middle part of the book that Sword seems to forget what he wanted to focus on…there is not much talk about pure drone music in this part of the book.

In the beginning, he highlights that he doesn’t want to write a history of drone music, but a book that “explores the viscous slipstream - drone, doom and beyond - and claims the sounds uncovered, which hinge on hypnotic power and close physical presence, as no less radical.” He goes on to say that Monolith Undertow “follows an outer stellar orbit of sounds underpinned by the drone.” And I would argue that the book falls short of this goal except for the first and last chapters.

I get the impression that the author had an idea and tried to put bands and albums that he loves into a rather tight framework— whether these albums actually fit or not does not seem to matter. I mean, just because The Beatles use the sitar on some songs does not make them a drone band. Not even the Beatles songs the author talks about have a strong drone vibe - meaning that there is a sense / feel of sustain to get lost in. With many of the bands the author writes about, there really is no eponymous “monolith undertow”.

After a strong beginning, The book becomes rather rambling, anecdotal, conversational and actually sometimes less informative than a Wikipedia article. Jumping from band to band becomes tedious quite quickly. Some sections are well-written and interesting because they take a more in depth look a a particular album and its sounds and lyrics while others are rather redundant. The later chapters on Sleep, Electric Wizard, Earth etc. are the best and I think the book would have turned out better had he just focused on a couple of bands and their sound.
As for the writing, it often reads as if the author had found a Thesaurus for the first time in his life and could not put it down — it’s simply too much at times. Sometimes entertaining but other times his language repertoire is characterized by shaky images and crooked similes that are repeated in slightly different forms throughout the text.

This book would have benefited from some serious editing of both content and language.

You can still find many interesting bands and album recommendations in this book, but, to be honest, I would have preferred a simple list format for that.
I think the problem of this book lies in what is presented and what it was marketed to be and what it actually is. So if you are interested in the drone genre, this book will most likely be a disappointment because you know most of the things in here already and will probably shake your head while reading about all the bands that - according to Sword - produce monolithic undertows.
If you are interested in a book that looks at sound in its various forms, the book has some interesting chapters and Sword writes about a wide variety of genres and bands with focus on the 20th century.

The physical book itself is beautiful and White Rabbit just announced the publication of the paperback edition of Monolith Undertow.

[Iain · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a great trip through all things drone, with some minor hang-ups I'll discuss later in this review. I discovered some great music that I hadn't listened to and read some spirited descriptions of some of my favourite musicians. Monolithic Undertow is quite linear in structure but extremely wide in its focus. There is a definite chronology in music. Everyone owes a debt to someone else. If I was trapped in a room Oldboy style for most of my life with no view of culture I wouldn't be asking for a guitar when I was released. Every artist decides to make art based off the art of another and Sword does a great job tracing the lineage of drone throughout this book. Every artist has to be inspired. For example Sunn O))) and Earth would never have made drone metal if the Melvins did not release the album Lysol. Much of this book is Sword describing someone's art, the scene around them and then how those inspired by the music would go on to create their own music. This is much more than a history of the drone and I want to give you an idea of the books layout and if it might interest you. I'll do this with a brief look at each chapter, my thoughts on each chapter and my closing thoughts.

Prologue:
Great introduction chapter. The drone in: doom metal, household appliances, the womb, drones flying over warzones, industrial music, actual industry and the universe itself. This chapter is great as it really shows Sword setting out his stand and what he’s going to offer you in this book. It is never single minded, he’s great at looking at the drone from the countless angles you can examine it from.

Chapter 1: Enter the Chamber
In a chapter mainly focused on Archaeoacoustics, Sword travels to Malta to experience the mysterious acoustics of the Hypogeum of Hal Saflieni. Archaeoacoustics is a fascinating discipline which attempts to figure out why ancient tombs have the acoustic properties they do. From there, Sword discusses Newgrange in Ireland and the peculiar properties of the famous passage tomb. This is one of the best chapters in the entire book. It clearly shows Sword wondered “where does this all come from” in human terms. He found a solid angle from which to examine where our ancestors utilized drones. It’s a beautiful chapter examining our history as a species. I’d recommend the book for this chapter alone.

Chapter 2: Chant Ecstatic
A wide ranging chapter initially covering the drone in the religious vocal traditions of Asia. The Om, Tuvan throat singing and their sustained notes as a sort of religious yearning and expression of the infinite. He even mentioned The HU, a metal band which uses Tuvan in their music showing how this kind of drone is still contemporary. Then The Gnawa and the Master Musicians of Joujouka in Morocco the latter which would be discovered by Burroughs, Gysin and Brian Jones of Rolling Stones fame. This chapter was fascinating mainly due to the insight on Burroughs and Gysin for me. Tangiers was clearly massively influential to them and by extension the rest of the 60s beat scene and by extension of inspiring the beats you inspired the entire 60s rock scene. This is practically shown by the telling of Brian Jones time with the Joujouka. Thanks to Brian a record of the Joujouka at that time exists. A great chapter which shows the odd way in which people being inspired spreads out and inspires other people.

Chapter 3: Midnight Raga
The drone in Indian music and its discovery by The Beatles and other rockers in the 60s, Ravi Shankar, LSD & Sitars and the way in which they've been linked, LSD and the Drone and the way they break down the barriers of reality. The psych rock awakening in the US and John Coltrane and others bringing that Indian influence into the Jazz world. The insight on John Coltrane was great. While I love jazz I haven’t really listened to Coltrane but Sword provides a great account of his work and how his wife Alice took up the jazz drone torch upon his passing. Some critics of the time alleged she only had a career due to her husband but I think she has rightfully been reassessed since then. She still arguably deserves more attention which Sword thankfully affords her through an examination of her body of work.

Chapter 4: Drone of the Holy Numbers
A look at the more avant-garde end of things relating to the drone in the 60s and onwards. Really interesting to read about John Cale in the 60s pre velvet underground. La Monte Young is a charlatan and reading about him and how he treated his collaborators just made me angry. I mean lets be honest if you're making music and Yoko Ono is around you're doing it wrong. Respect to Terry Riley and Conrad and others who while making weird music at least didn't disappear up their own asses like Young always has. Genuinely this is the worst chapter along with the final one. This chapter is bad due to La Monte Young being a pretentious ass, albeit an influential pretentious ass. Still interesting to read about but frustrating at the same time.

Chapter 5: Do the Ostrich
A shorter chapter that follows on from the avant-garde exploration. Sword charts the origins and development of The Velvet Underground and the drones influence on the band. Lou Reed’s solo career post Velvet is briefly covered as well. TVU are a great band, I don’t need to tell you that but an underrated aspect of their sound is the drone and Sword highlights that brilliantly.

Chapter 6: Kommune
A large chapter that initially serves as deep dive on all things drone within Krautrock. Faust, Amon Düül II, Ash Ra Temple, Cluster and Popol Vuh. I hadn't heard much of these bands my Krautrock knowledge only really extended to CAN before reading this chapter, its some fascinating music. The chapter closes out with a brief exploration of Hawkwind and Spacemen 3 and their use of the drone and general musical approaches. This chapter was one of my favourite moments of the book as I listened to each band while reading about them. A really comfy experience.

Chapter 7: Reverse Hardcore
Initially covering Iggy and The Stooges this chapter moves out looking at The Ramones and Rhys Chatham. From there we go to New York and the infamous No Wave scene of the late 70s. In the 80s you had Sonic Youth and Swans two of my favourites. The drone hangs heavy and runs through all of these musicians blood. Black Flag, Butthole surfers and other bands are discussed in the chapters end. I’m very familiar with No Wave and most of the bands covered here so this band was a pleasure. While I’m glad Sword mentions Swans he should have given more attention to their later albums which have way more drones than the ones he covers. Still this is a great chapter.

Chapter 8: Beyond the Electric Caravan
All things metal. Black Sabbath of course stands as the monolithic doom laden blues blooded foundation from which doom and drone metal would eventually sprout. Here we get a host of metal bands which incorporate the drone into their sound. Huge amount of bands covered here as is the case with metal in general, there are too many brilliant metal bands. I particularly enjoyed reading about Sleep, Melvins, Sunn O))) and Neurosis as they’re some of my favourite bands. A brilliant chapter for any metal fan but it may convince those outside the scene to explore some drone metal.

Chapter 9: Infinite Loops
This chapter is an odd one as it’s not as focused on a scene or genre as the other chapters are. I loved the Brian Eno bit. You have Aphex Twin, Godflesh and other stuff in this chapter. It’s great albeit not as focused as other chapters. It kind of felt like a “what have I left out?” kind of chapter to me.

Chapter 10: The Closing of the Circle
The weakest chapter of the entire book closes it out. An annoyingly political and unfocused chapter meanders along before ending. I don’t care about Swords half assed political points I bought this to read about the drone, not how someone playing a violin reflects Brexit and how some other album reflects late stage capitalism. I really enjoyed most of this book but to end it on such a bum note is embarrassing. It’s like a flight to Mars where the La Monte Young chapter was an asteroid shower which hammered the ship and this final chapter is the ship crash landing and exploding. My advice to Sword and White Rabbit would be to edit this out of subsequent runs and actually write a decent conclusion, not whatever this ball-less political preening was attempting to be.

Overall a brilliant book which face plants at its final moment. It gets 4 stars because the good chapters are genuinely that good. With a decent conclusion it would be 5 stars but Sword thought he would inject his twitter feed into the end of his book for some reason. Ignore his political posturing (I’M PROGRESSIVE, I KNOW ITS ENTIRELY IRRELEVANT TO WHAT I’M CURRENTLY DISCUSSING BUT DON’T YOU ACCEPT ME FOR MY VIEWS) when he should be consolidating his books content and you’ll have a great time.

[Jeffrey Bumiller · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well written and really enjoyable. If you are a long time fan of this music you will still find something new, or something you'll need to revisit. If you're just getting into this kind of music you'll likely carry this book around like a bible, giddy with anticipation of what you might discover. From Pauline Oliveros through to Electric Wizard, and beyond. It's all here and it's all connected.

[Ben Robinson · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Do we play the drone or does the drone play us?" Harry Sword takes the reader on a lofty journey all the way from our universe's first beginnings right the way through to lairy Hawkwind gigs, the Orbit's chill-out room and up until the latest bassadelic release from the Bug, say. It's a keen endorsement of musical heaviness and its eternal power to leave we humans moved.

[Mack · Rating 5 out of 5]

what a pleasant experience, i’ve had such a good time reading (and listening) through this - the anti capitalist send off really sealed the deal for me. can’t wait to go clubbing

[Stefano Solventi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Al momento lo definirei il più bel saggio musicale degli anni Venti.

Ne ho scritto su Sentireascoltare:

https://www.sentireascoltare.com/rece...

[Alex Makowski · Rating 4 out of 5]

the tagline „book about history of drone music” I heard before buying the book heavily undersold it. the author did a really great job of presenting why people may be inclined to like drones and the really extended list of artists and genres that are part of the drone, even if some people may not initially think that way.

i kinda wish author prepared some kind of playlist with some of the more essential songs of all the discussed acts, but overall - a great work, and I highly recommend it to anybody interested in this topic

[Jamie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just really, bloody, interesting. Like many, I've left this with a large stack of homework.

[George Orton · Rating 5 out of 5]

A psychotropic history of experimental music written in Lester Bangsian submachine gun prose. Top banana.

[Philip · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's very clear that what Harry Sword *really* wanted to write was a book about a particular niche of modern metal that could be labelled as drone/doom/stoner/avant metal, but such a book would have been too niche. So he's expanded things to talk about "the drone", starting in neolithic times, then taking us on a journey through 1960s psychedelia, krautrock, minimalism, industrial music, trance, up to his genre of choice.

Sword writes the book with infectious enthusiasm; it is a breezy, friendly read. At the end of the day he's a metalhead (albeit a slightly pompous one) and this is where he's happiest. Unfortunately, I don't think he clearly defines what he means by drone music. He frequently talks about "the drone" as if it's something that can be invoked, or as if it's some cosmic force that one can tune into (usually aided by drugs). There's a lot of talk about "transcendence", and other wavy-gravy ideas - he even ends the book by asking "do we play the drone or does it play us?" To me it sounds exactly like the "New Age woo-woo" that Sword clearly looks down on.

The first half of the book is the strongest. I found his discussion of the influence of Moroccan and Indian music (especially Ravi Shankar) on 1960s Western music especially compelling. It is in these earlier chapters where Sword is outside his area of expertise, and at times he lets himself down, but he paints a clear picture of why and how the music evolved the way it did.

The sense of overall narrative falls apart in the second half of the book. It feels like Sword is describing his favourite music scenes/bands and tells a lot of fun stories. However, most of these descriptions feel like self-contained band synopses: there is little to no attempt at linking them together. His justification for including some bands, such as Black Flag, feels very stretched.

Given the motivation Sword gives for the book in the prologue, I would have expected the chapter on drone/doom metal to be the culmination. But there are a couple of other completely unrelated chapters tacked on after this, and it's not clear what they add to the book's narrative.

At the same time it feels very strange that a book that purports to be about drone music makes no mention of any of the ambient drone scene: major figures such as Steve Roach, Robert Rich, Natural Snow Buildings, Lustmord, Stars of the Lid etc don't get mentioned at all.

So there's a lot of very cool stuff in this book, and I enjoyed it a lot. I'm not convinced that "the drone" was really the best unifying theme, or even what Sword really wanted to be writing about. To me it felt more about psychedelic music, with a focus on how some of its many, far-reaching tendrils eventually led to drone/doom/stoner/avant metal. If that sounds like your thing, go for it.

[Elliot · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is not the book it claims to be. This is not an exploration of the drone in music. It starts out as such, yes. But the author loses his way almost immediately, and what we get instead is a turgid trudge through a select history of various disparate forms of music throughout the latter half of the 20th century. And by the end, the only drone is the sound of a Sword grinding his axe in impotent rage at the perceived evils of the modern world.

There's a clear warning sign on the back cover: a gushing endorsement from The Quietus. That badly-optimised corner of the internet populated by dour high priests who - bless 'em - honestly seem to think that they're championing adventurous, forward-thinking, "important" music. But what they're actually doing is sucking all the fun and vitalism out of life with their interminable pseudo-intellectual hand-wringing.

Not familiar with The Quietus? I'm not surprised. They're not as important as they think they are. Don't bother going there. 'tis a silly place. But for an idea of what it's like, stick with this review. By the end, you might find yourself thinking: "Oh, get over yourself. You're writing a one-star review on Goodreads of a book few will care about. Why the anger? Why the effort?" Why indeed? And there you have it - the experience of reading The Quietus. A groan and a "why", and a vague sense that all involved would be better off doing literally anything else, yourself included.

In his short author bio Harry proudly boasts of having been published by The Quietus. And yes, his style of writing is a perfect fit for that place. It's all here: the laboured points; the use of five adjectives when one will do; the meandering run-on sentences; the overuse of italics for emphasis; the tendency to namedrop; and tortured metaphors that look good on paper, but which actually make no sense at all.

Harry also has a habit of inserting himself into the narrative. He seems to think he's Hunter S. Thompson - our fearless gonzo reporter issuing harrowing dispatches from the frontline of his chemical misadventures. So it's a pity he comes across as more like Alan Partridge out of his depth on a Manchester drug bust.

The biggest tragedy is that most of the music he drones on about is genuinely fascinating. But then, so is most of the music he disparages. Because here we have another crutch favoured by hacks - an inability to talk about the subject at hand without pouring scorn on others, like an outraged octopus squirting ink at a perceived threat.

There's a clue early on that you're in for a bad time: Harry uses the term "rockist" and expects us to nod along, gravely. I don't know if this term was coined by The Quietus, or if they just embraced it, but it's a particularly silly one. As far as I can tell, to be "rockist" is to enjoy rock music, or to believe that rock music is superior to other music forms. At no point has any writer who ever used this term given a satisfying explanation of just why this is such a bad thing. Everyone prefers the music they like. So what?

It's strange to see this term in a book that apparently started life as a history of doom metal, but there you go. It's funny though, because I believe one of the sins attributed to "rockist" people is that they're preoccupied with authenticity in music, which is a BAD THING, apparently. Yet Harry is utterly obsessed with authenticity. He frequently champions "real" music, whether that's "real" psychedelia, "real" industrial, "real" doom, and so on. That's a bit rockist of you, Harry.

Indeed, Harry contradicts himself throughout. It's a GOOD THING that Steve Albini skewers factory workers in his music! But it's also a GOOD THING that the sounds of the factory gave birth to Black Sabbath! It's a GOOD THING that musicians attempt to recreate sounds they've heard before! But for some reason it's a BAD THING when Lou Reed does this! And it's a BAD THING that Led Zeppelin sing about fantasy tropes! But it's a GOOD THING that Electric Wizard, Sleep, Cathedral and others sing about fantasy tropes, because escapism is apparently OK when the right people do it!

This is what happens when you draw clear battle lines around ancient and universal languages like music. You hurt yourself in your confusion!

And then there are all the things Harry proclaims that are simply incorrect. The Velvet Underground made three albums without John Cale, not two. Mellow Candle are not an "occult acoustic duo". Scott Walker did not crack the whip on Soused. And to claim that the Grateful Dead traded in "plodding blues rock" is such a dunderheaded assessment of their music that I doubt Harry listened beyond their two most-played tracks on Spotify.

For a while I thought I might use this book as a reference. So Harry and I disagree on a few things. Who cares? I can just ignore his wittering and explore the numerous musicians he mentions myself, right? But then I realised - if he's making such mistakes and such dumbfounding assertions about stuff I am familiar with, then who knows what sort of boneheaded things he's saying about stuff I'm not so familiar with?

Briefly - just briefly - you get a taste of the book Harry originally set out to write before he decided to flail wildly in his confused history. The chapter on doom made me want to go out and do things. But as this followed over 300 pages that were variously baffling, irritating and boring, it was too little too late.

And what followed was just dismal. The chapter on techno and industrial music ("real" industrial music, mind you!) was dreary, and the final chapter was just miserable. Rather than concluding his tedious tome with a final hurrah about the transcendent possibilities of music, Harry instead decided to lash out at some of the usual modern boogeymen. Even though Harry and I likely agree on many points, nobody wants to get trapped in the corner by a pub bore after he's had a few. You might nod along at the points they make, but you're still going to leave the pub covered in their stale spittle. So thanks, Harry, you vampire. You drained your subject of all its joy and power. The Quietus awaits!

I'm sorry to take a hatchet to a Sword, but this book just made me angry. It's a bait and switch - you think you're going "in search of oblivion", but instead you're entering Harry's world. And Harry's world is dull and grey. If you want to explore the power of the drone in music, listen to Big Church [megszentségteleníthetetlenségeskedéseitekért]. Jump headfirst into the ØØ Void and you'll find that the void is a rabbit hole. From there, you can drift forward, backwards and sideways as you chart your own blissful path through sonic overload.

Be your own guide. Life's too short for books like this.

[Svalbard · Rating 5 out of 5]

Una particolarità di questo libro l’ho scoperta quando, dopo averlo comprato su Amazon (ma venduto in realtà da Hoepli) l’ho aperto per la prima volta, ed è il fatto che, come dice l’iscrizione sulla prima pagina, è stato stampato in una tiratura limitata di trecento esemplari, numerati singolarmente (il mio è il numero 200). Il che è stranissimo per un saggio, oltre tutto tradotto da un’altra lingua, che ci si aspetta possa e debba circolare nel maggior numero possibile di copie, compatibilmente con il potenziale numero di lettori ed acquirenti. E a maggior ragione strano perché si tratta di un ottimo libro, ampio, completo e ricchissimo di informazioni, oltre ad essere ben scritto, ben stampato (ottima carta, ottimi caratteri) e, da quello che capisco, anche assai ben tradotto.

L’argomento è il drone. Per “drone” non si intende il velivolo radiocomandato, bensì il suono lungo, continuo, che si estende per molto tempo con nessuna o pochissime variazioni melodiche od armoniche. Si tratta di qualcosa che fa parte dell’esperienza della storia e della percettività umana fin dalle origini, e forse di quelle dell’uomo anche da prima della nascita, essendo legato alla vita intrauterina con i suoni della circolazione del sangue, del battito cardiaco, ed altri; esso ha indubbiamente caratteristiche tranquillizzanti, se non ipnotiche.

Il libro, molto documentato, parla di ambienti costruiti nell’antichità, ad esempio a Malta o in Inghilterra, legati a ritualità sacre e che sembrano costruiti appositamente per fornire alle persone che vi sostavano un’esperienza acustica di tipo dronico, che in qualche modo poteva essere pertanto legata all’idea di trascendente (la voce dell’ultraterreno, ad esempio). Capitolo dopo capitolo poi si descrivono i vari episodi musicali, ed i vari autori, che nella loro esperienza si sono avvicinati od hanno esperito più o meno consapevolmente il drone, peraltro molto presente in ambiti musicali extraeuropei (ad esempio la musica indiana e tutte le musiche che fanno uso di bordoni lunghi e persistenti; tra l’altro, va precisato che anche l’ottimo libro di Alex Ross, “Il resto è rumore”, parla diffusamente di drone, definendolo però bordone, concetto evidentemente molto simile). Tra gli altri i musicisti iterativi e minimalisti, LaMonte Young, Riley, Glass, altri provenienti da ambito rock (John Cale, i Velvet Underground), altri ancora dal jazz (John e Alice Coltrane), i cosiddetti “corrieri cosmici” tedeschi (Tangerine Dream, Ashra Tempel eccetera), per arrivare a vari sperimentalisti elettronici degli ultimi decenni (Brian Eno, Laurie Spiegel, Eliane Radigue), alla musica techno-house in tutte le sue varianti, e alle sue derivazioni IDM (Intelligent Dance Music), ambient e affini. Il capitolo conclusivo, “Il cerchio si chiude”, tira le fila di tutto il discorso affermando, come è facile aspettarsi, che il drone è parte dell’esperienza umana, è una vittoria, seppur temporanea, sul tempo che passa e sulla morte (sempre lei, maledetta…).

Al di là dei significati metafisici, questo è un altro dei libri che sto scoprendo negli ultimi tempi grazie a persone intelligenti che me li consigliano (e molte di loro manco le conosco, dato che si parla di gruppi facebook), libri che parlano di musica trascendendo completamente la divisione di generi e le discriminanti commerciale-non commerciale, il presupposto autocastrante di una pessima estetica musicale che ha influenzato tutto il Novecento (per dire, rileggendolo con maggiore cognizione di causa, ho avuto il piacere di scoprire che pure il libro di Alex Ross già citato nella sua ultima parte nomina autori ampiamente esaminati da questo e da altri, ovviamente Riley e Glass ma anche Velvet Underground, IDM e affini, pur essendo partito da Mahler, Richard Strauss e Schoenberg… e cita perfino il Simon Reynolds di Futuromania, altro ottimo autore e ottimo libro).

Insomma, mi sa tanto che negli ultimi due decenni io non c’ero, e se c’ero dormivo.

[Alec Holt · Rating 3 out of 5]

Perhaps it's my own fault for reading more than the entire second half of this book in a single day, but its repetitive, in most parts relentlessly linear structure began to grate rather than give grounding. It is undoubtedly at its most vital in those sections where it capitalises upon the conceptual potential provided by the drone, as in the quite revelatory first couple of chapters on its ritual and ecstatic uses. The genre-centred sections, however, all too often devolve into list form, each new item inevitably signposted by something like "if X were doing *this*, then Y were doing it altogether differently" before a (sometimes tenuous) mention of the drone's relevance is hastily dropped in in the manner of a student repeating the terms of the essay question at the end of every paragraph to give the illusion of staying on track.

The approach is clearly intended to and effectively does uncover the startling ubiquity of the drone, from the varyingly appropriative use of the raga in 60s pop to its covert infliction upon unsuspecting techno audiences by the likes of Surgeon and Regis. It is also well suited to dealing with a dizzyingly large volume of artists, and though I had heard of many of them I nonetheless finished the book excited to approach music new and already beloved alike with fresh impetus and perspectives. Still, I think a thematic approach would have proved more rewarding, and some of the placements and inclusions were confounding -- Eliane Radigue, in my mind pretty much *the* essential drone artist, only gets her own, fairly limited section right at the end. Tim Hecker apparently merits no more than a single paragraph. As much as I sometimes appreciated the kaleidoscopic approach and understand that demonstrating that variety was really the point of the book, I feel it would have benefitted from more prolonged reflection on the obvious and really essential exponents of the drone; the comparably thorough treatment of La Monte Young et al, for example, was much more rewarding than the rushes through proto-punk and hardcore.

Sword is a good writer, and contrary to one of the other reviews here I found his drug descriptions contributed a great deal to their relevant sections. The description of the gritty psychedelia of the Velvets' beloved Speed was a particular highlight, and I for one didn't feel he over-indulged when talking about the subject elsewhere. And while over the course of the book you definitely begin to notice some of his favourite phrases recurring rather more often than you would like ("...a paean to...", "this is *italicised adjective* music", etc), he consistently and effectively conveys the subjective spirit of the music he's talking about; he can certainly be forgiven a few repeated adjectives given he is predominantly talking about one type of sound for an entire book.

Undoubtedly an enjoyable, worthwhile, and informative reading experience: but the more intriguing conceptual slant of the book as laid out by the first few chapters disappointingly recedes into the background as it progresses. What follows is largely closer to a compendium of the drone than an exposition of its essence.

[Jeff Holland · Rating 4 out of 5]

The music referenced and described within these pages is consistently excellent, but the writing is a different story. It's not all bad, but certain characteristics of Sword's style tend to irk me relentlessly. The worst one is his overuse of the word "vibe." There are so many cases where he chooses this word over a more obvious descriptive noun that would've made the sentence far less annoying. "Ley line", "clouds of hash", and other repeatedly used phrases get under my skin as well. He also shares with the majority of other music writers a tendency toward stereotypes, generalizations, and reductions, which in many cases undermine both the impact and the credibility of his rhetoric. Furthermore, his reverential obsession with mind-altering substances (especially cannabis) and their impact on the creative process can be overbearing to the maximum.

Sword does, however, exhibit moments of brilliance. There are times when he succeeds in getting at the core of what a piece of music does or what it represents. At its best, his prose is infectiously passionate. His arguments about the relationships between different pieces of music across time and geographical space, all connecting back to the drone, are compelling if at times overemphasized. Sword really shines as a curator, not only in terms of the music he chooses to discuss, but also the anecdotes and quotations he intersperses with his analyses. These fascinating tidbits, combined with the overall excellence of musical taste, save the book from tedium.

I would recommend this book to those who like left-field music, but not to those who don't. And to friends, I will lend my sardonically annotated copy, in which the word "vibe" is repeatedly X-ed out.

[Jon Zellweger · Rating 3 out of 5]

I went from a 960 page book about a heretical Jewish sect in 18th Century Eastern Europe to a book on drone music — Heavy Duty (‘brings out the duty in my soul’). The book strives to document the history of drone music, mostly in rock music. To start, the thesis is that not all music is drone music, but there is more than you might assume. It was helpful to establish ancient precedents such as acoustic phenomena of burial chambers at New Grange or the Hypogeum, or long standing traditions of the Sardinian launeddas and Greek aulos pipes; but absent is the didgeridoo. Further the author does not spend much time with various examples in the Middle Ages through to the 19th Century. Sure, they touch on some of famous Moroccan traditions, the throat singing of Mongolia or the Tibetan Gyuto monks and Ravi Shankar, but what of Hildegard’s sacred choral works, hurdy-gurdy folk music, modern variants like John McLaughlin’s Shakti project, Arvo Pärt’s tintiinnabuli strategies or Fela Kuti and Afrobeat? Despite touching on dub and the free jazz of Coltrane, Coleman and Ayler, the blues is almost entirely absent (Junior Kimbrough deserved to be in this book). We get a healthy dose of La Monte Young, Terry Riley, John Cale and the Velvet Underground. Our author also does right by outlining the Krautrock kosmische traditions of Germany, The Stooges in Detroit, Hawkwind in England, NY no-wave a la SWANS, doom metal from the Melvins, to Sleep, to Earth, to Sunn O))), the rave scene techno of Surgeon or Regis and ambient works of Eno, etc. For one who is a sucker for the drone, this covers very little new ground but served as a nice refresher. What I had yearned for more was an analysis of the connective tissue binding all these traditions together. In some instances, its not really clear what are the operational principals that qualified the artist to be included. Too often the author defaults to 50 word album review-like blurbs rather than getting getting to any real meat. Perhaps it was a judgement call, keep it high-level and accessible to capture the most readers in 300 pages or spend a decade to research 1000 pages to gear it more exclusively to specialists who understand sound and music theory. In short, if you’re new to this peninsula of sound, just make note of all the names I just dropped and spin them up on your favorite streaming platform. You’ll know if you have an appetite for more.

[John Hobson · Rating 5 out of 5]

A history of drone music has been long overdue, so Harry Sword is to be congratulated in trying to bring form to its evolution and growth. (Previously, drone is either briefly alluded to in works on electronic/minimalist music or ignored entirely).
Sword starts in the beginning, literally as Big Bang had its own note, the original drone that he traces through the earliest types of music associated with pipes (and if you wonder why ancient Greeks used two pipes, one was the drone) its life in the religious music of east went and through to its resurgence with La Monte Young. And Black Sabbath. What makes Monolithic Undertow so interesting is that Sword strays beyond the obvious in tracing drone with a large section on Doom Metal and if you cannot see their significance, you will after reding it. One word of warning: its pointless reading this without tracking down the music mentioned, there is so much to savour. You Tube does appear to have everything which even the likes of Spotify are missing.
Only two real areas of omission. The Punk/New Wave era is missed when groups like Wire went from one-minute songs to drone in a few years. And Sword as a complete blind spot on the biggest drone community in the British Isles, bagpipe players.
Drone is the most marmite of music. Sword asks at the end do we play the drone or does it play us. I’d go further: drone is music that picks you to be a listener, not something you choose.

[Leftjab · Rating 4 out of 5]

So I’m predisposed to enjoy this book before starting it. I listen to pretty much all of the music covered in the book and therein lies the conundrum – I knew so much of the early stuff (New York avant garde in the 60s, Velvet Underground, Brian Eno, Stooges, Spacemen 3, 80s American indie heavy, etc) that I really wanted more of the later chapters. Actually – and I felt the writer could do this with ease – I would love a version of the book that spent its entire 400+ pages on the last 3 chapters. More on Justin Broadrick, Kevin Martin, Mordant Music, Electric Wizard – these bands/musicians have now been making sounds for 20+ years so there’s a wealth of material to choose from and analyze. So the intro chapters could be digressions based around what these contemporary bands are doing. I loved the first chapter and its description of Bongripper at Roadburn – the writer had me at hello. Totally recognize that my wishes for the book are probably from a very small reading circle but just being upfront. It did make me listen to the first Flipper album which I thought I’d heard at some point but realized I probably hadn’t. And with streaming music being what it is, you could easily spend a few days listening to everything in the book – though the LaMonte Young stuff is still a little tricky to find, and the John Cale early releases on Table of the Elements. I’m sure with a little digging on Amazon, Discogs or what have you those gaps could be filled. Also feel there is a ton of more contemporary stuff perpetuating the sonic oblivion – Blackest Ever Black, Hydra Head (before its demise), more stuff on Southern Lord and Neurot, Hospital Productions (though their early associations with the far right makes them a bit problematic), Subtext Recordings – it all comes down to the patience and taste of the author though, so I guess the book I’m looking for I’d need to write. I have been waiting for a long analysis of Robert Hampson’s Main project….

[Jon Varner · Rating 3 out of 5]

Starts off strong with the author in an ancient Maltese mausoleum with strange amplifying acoustics. The early chapters have the tone and sprawl of an enthusiastic stoner relating a recent dive down a wikipedia rabbit hole. He establishes the premise that drone is the basis for all music and is key to the way we connect with the world and space and time, and begins to elaborate on the role of drone in so many different musics.

Unfortunately, the book later devolves into a more traditional capsule history of a music journo's favorite bands. He mentions early on that he started off writing a history of doom metal and much of this reads like he barely altered that content to fit the new thesis. His genre interests are wide ranging, but past 1990 primarily focused on the UK. Several musicians and bands, particularly in the punk and EDM chapters, have a very tenuous connection to drone, while more relevant ones go unmentioned--no Yellow Swans, Thomas Koner, Kali Malone, GRM, et al. Noise music in general is barely examined.

Still, it's a good book. He does cover a lot of ground and when he remembers his thesis--connecting a thread through musicians as diverse as Alice Coltrane and Melvins--it's at its best.

[Benoit Lelièvre · Rating 4 out of 5]

My only problem with this book is that I knew a lot of what it talked about already. Being pretty well informed about metal music already and having read Alex Ross' Listen to This and JR Moores Electric Wizards, Monolithic Undertow came in a LITTLE redundant.

But it was great. Redundant, but great.

While it's an humble history book at heart that discusses the discography of the involved artists, it offers insights other books don't. For example, the relationship between La Monte Young and Velvet Underground and the importance of Velvet Underground in turning rock from a party genre to a more introspective style of music has never been any clearer than from reading Harry Sword. The role of The Melvins either. A band that is often parroted and too little discussed in depth. If anything, Sword is not afraid to discuss bands in depth. His exegesis of Earth, Sunn O))), Electric Wizard and Neurosis was also out of this world.

Bottom line, this book made me want to listen to heavy, droning music. It made me understand how it was bound to end up celebrated in the extremes of the sonic spectrum because of its ties to pre-christian faith. It was brilliant, I wish it had been a LITTLE more personal. Harry Sword has an awesome voice, but he makes himself disappear too often.

[Volbet · Rating 3 out of 5]

Harry Sword has created a very nice, chronological overview of the drone and its place in music. I can almost guarantee that you will hear about bands, artists and projects that you never knew existed. And you will almost certainly discover bands you'll really like.

But I'm just left with the feeling that however many bands Sword can list and describe in flowery prose, the book never truly live up to the expectations set by its introductory chapter.
Getting familiar with droning sounds fra Indian raga to British dubstep is neat, but it leaves me wanting for a more in-depth exploration of the drone as a concept.

For example, Sword makes a big point of the of the religious and/or spiritual roots of droning sounds, but the idea is never really explored beyond the immediate manifestation of the drone in music. It's never really explored why the drone has had such a deep religious meaning for millennia. Nor is it explored what it means to the drone once it leaves the spiritual realm and settles in the secular.
I think it's a shame, as such an exploration would have been much more interesting than a list of droning bands that's longer than a Sunn O))) live set.

[Remi · Rating 5 out of 5]

One part sociological study of the drone and two-thirds of history of a variety of musical artists across multiple genres ranging from religious chants to "tribal", to jazz, heavy metal, pop, and electronic; the drone is regarded as the very essence, the beginning and end of music and how it underlays throughout much of popular culture. Much of the sociological writing is very reminiscent of Mark Fisher's work on rave culture and music.

Much like John Berger's Ways of Seeing, Undertow with its exhaustive list of albums to listen to, encourages more perspective of ways of hearing, even with familiar albums (for myself much of the stoner/doom metal section, Black Sabbath, SLEEP, and Earth...) and how the root of drone persists throughout and intersects with other musicians prior output, a musical meme of sorts. One of the benefits of today's age of instant access is that many of the albums listed are just a click away, and one can easily search them up, step back and fall into the artist's work.

[James · Rating 4 out of 5]

In terms of what’s covered, this easily could have been my favorite music book ever as basically all of my favorites get a look-in from Coil to Hawkwind to weird folk, and indeed, the first couple of chapters are fascinating, a well-researched and well-written (what I would refer to ‘light academic’, heavy on research and references but light on jargon) sociological research into the ancient origins of drone. Once the book changes it’s focus to the 20th century the writing loses a bit of steam, becoming more a list of great artists that have utilized drones than an in-depth exploration of what the artists were hoping to achieve or communicate by using them. It works well as an introduction to many of those bands, but it doesn’t manage to tell people who are long-time fans of most of these artists much that they weren’t already aware of or make connections that would be surprising to many people. That’s not to say it isn’t a well-written and organized book, it is, and one that’s well worth reading for fans of the genres covered, it just doesn’t quite live up to some of the masters of music/social criticism like Reynolds or Fisher. Very good, but not life changing.

[Ben Willcock · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent deep dive into the drone. An essential (and beautifully printed) tome for any music fanatic.

Especially enjoyed the way Harry gives you the nuts and bolts of the genres and time periods he works through - helpful in facilitating further exploration in those areas, for those interested - while keeping the discussion very much fixed on the heart and soul of the music, the people making it and the places they played it in. Genre labels are just labels; the focus here is on the weird, mystical, spiritual, something that drives long-form, melody-lite music.

Harry draws all sorts of parallels between so many strands - the free jazz movement, the late 60s / early 70s creative boom in Germany, 90s techno/idm, the stoner/doom scene. It’s a great reference point and all around enjoyable read.

Only two criticisms would be that (a) the editing is a bit sloppy, with certain information and phrases repeated, sometimes in very close succession and (b) I would like a part 2 immediately!