The senses are incredible, translating inputs tactile, photic, chemical, and sonic into outputs more difficult to explain in principles and rules, yet theoretically far more honest and axiomatic. April is a band that has the subtly striking effect of at once ascribing and inscribing feelings, the way sitting in an elliptical room of Monet’s water lilies (Les Nymphéas) may convey as much in its treatment and expression as it will elicit in response from your own memories.
To say that they’re a band best understood in a live setting is obviously subjective. The live performance is a gracious experience, and one I highly recommend, though I would also (subjectively) aver that they are a band best understood in a live mindset. To except that statement at nominal value is one thing, but to allow the muscles in your face to relax from brows to jowls and feel through the synapses alone is far more significant. Synapses are part of what makes their sound a proper place for your own ritual or devotion. There is something both defiant and precious in the spaces between the sounds comprising the more obvious melodies or rhythms. The wavering of the tremolo picking or gradually crescendoed and panning textures provides a more infinite tempo, offering a wind on which to take flight, bury underneath, or simply allow to traverse your skin. Though floating unencumbered, these seemingly-backdrop sounds lend an enormous gravity to every motion that accompanies them.
They present an aesthetic of black and white, but I think the sound speaks as much to Yves Klein as Pierre Soulages or Robert Motherwell. Klein often sought to reveal the power and freedom of the sea or sky with, offering the beholder a chance at peering into the universe’s infinite, which could truly reveal that the infinite could just as well be interior.