Sometimes, an album explodes into my consciousness out of nowhere, unseating my melancholy and lifting my spirits. Mono released their new album Snowdrop on June 12th, and it has been a ray of light in a dark world. I don’t like slapping 10/10’s on albums without due consideration, but this one convinced me thoroughly.
Mono hails from Japan and has been active since 1999. They are a four-piece band consisting of Takaakira ‘Taka’ Goto on guitar, Tamaki on bass and piano, Yoda on guitar, and Dahm on drums. This album also includes a 10-piece orchestra and 8-piece choir.
I’ve been following Mono’s music since 2009’s Hymn to the Immortal Wind. I really got into them with 2019’s Nowhere, Now Here (still a favorite of mine) and 2021’s Pilgrimage of the Soul. I really liked 2024’s Oath, as well. But Snowdrop hits differently, taking their music to new heights. After the death of their longtime producer Steve Albini, they joined forces with one of Steve’s friends, producer Brad Wood. And what they’ve created feels like an authentic celebration of life dedicated to their fallen friend.
Because that’s exactly what this album does. Mono has long been a major player in the post-rock world, and they’ve always buried a striking amount of emotion in what they do. But Snowdrop turns that dial up to 10. The orchestration is incredibly bright and beautiful, the choir vocals are celestial and nostalgic, making for an album that feels golden and full of memory in the sunshine. In tumultuous times, this is exactly the healing balm I needed.
Snowdrop makes me weep. The emotions hit me several times throughout the album, but the overall sense is joyous, happy, full of peace. It feels like, instead of mourning and melancholy (which are both important, too), this record reminds us to live. It reminds us of the quaint details of life that make it worth living, from the warmth of another’s arms to the beauty of the smallest flower petal. It is a rich, vibrant, and stunning work of art.
The album has eight tracks and is about fifty minutes long. There are no weak spots. There are no lesser tracks, though the closer is possibly my favorite song of the year. In the first half, we start with the glorious slowburn of the title track, absolutely raging with nostalgia and feelings of yesteryear as it explodes with light. “Winter Daphne” comes next, and turns the crescendo on its head, giving us energy and rhythm at first before it drops into sheer cinematic wonder. That’s when the tears start flowing for me.
Next is “Gerbera”, the impossibly gorgeous single. Much of its eight-minute runtime is based around the same infectious melody, but it never gets old, never feels forced or bloated. The song is an ode to simplicity and beauty, and it is daringly immaculate. The first half ends with the incredible “Statice”, a flowing river of heaven. I love the casual tempo that leans into radiant orchestrations that truly give me goosebumps, like clarity and fervor.
The second half is even better, though. We start with the understated “Hedera”, a slowly rising beauty which offers low-key strings and familiar guitar phrasing that makes us feel at home. “Shion” follows and is more active, especially the drumming. I love the squirrely drum rhythm and how the exotic choir vocals hover and weave in and around it. It’s like abstraction and color played right up against a riveting drum performance.
The final two tracks are my favorites, though. “Bells of Ireland” is a gorgeous piano-led piece. It’s slow and homey, moving in how it touches my spirit and helps heal the past, like a lucid dream. It almost works like an introduction to the closer, readying our hearts for something truly extraordinary.
That closer is “Farewell to Spring”, seven minutes and thirty-one seconds of pure bliss. This song makes me cry, makes my vision blurry, makes me feel alive and living here on this day, in this hour, at this very second. The slow rise of the drums, the gentle guitars, the shoegaze that slowly fades into the fray; the song is full of character and subtle theater in how it’s presented. Ultimately, it’s the dazzling orchestration as it reaches towering octaves; it’s the choir vocals as they take us to cosmic heights; it’s the pealing guitars as they promise a better tomorrow, that the farewell to spring isn’t the end. Even thinking of the angelic weight of this song makes me want to cry.
Look, I’ve always liked Mono, but Snowdrop is simply at another level. They’ve cut out the fat and focused on what makes their music so special. It is as wildly cinematic as it is innately human, and it draws out my emotions like a waterfall. For me, this is like Alcest’s Shelter album, streaming in golden sunlight and luminous memory, bidding us to pause and ponder the magnificent simplicity that lives all around us, and within us, too.
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