Post-Rock: 3epkano - At Land (2007)

80 / 100

Dark, theatrical, and emotionally draining in the best way, At Land unfolds like a live-scored silent film, blending post-rock atmospherics, cinematic swells, and avant-garde touches. While not as widely recognized as Hammock, 3epkano’s create a haunting yet emotional journey through barren landscapes.

Active from 2004 to 2015, 3epkano were a post-rock band from Dublin, Ireland, founded by guitarist, composer, and film/media lecturer Matthew Nolan. The group’s name is a romanisation of the Cyrillic title of Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1975 film Зеркало (Mirror), an appropriate reference for a group dedicated to improvised live performances scoring early 20th-century silent films. In a way, it’s not far from Hammock or Mogwai’s work in film soundtracks.

On stage and in the studio, Nolan was joined by fellow electric guitarist Cameron Doyle, drummer James Mackin, cellist Lioba Petrie, bassists David Gough and Laurence Mackin, violists Karen Dervan and Abigail Smith, and keyboardist Richard McCullough.

In At Land, 3epkano opens with a nightmarish sensation shaped by thick, echoing guitars and psychedelic stoner-rock synths, with brief glances toward the avant-garde in “Torture Room” and “We Go From Tears To Shouts.” Meanwhile, “Blood of a Poet” incorporates jazz elements, though for me, it ends up sounding somewhat monotonous. “Towers Open Fire” delivers the thunder of marching footsteps through a surging, cinematic score, while “Rhytmus 54” introduces noise elements that could unsettle the psyche.

Tracks like “They Are Playing” act as a transition toward more emotional and darker terrain, blending twangy guitar plucks with the deep tones of violin. This leads to the ambient textures of “Loop Station” and the shadowy, slightly barren soundtrack of “The Sub.”

The journey isn’t over yet—it drains both energy and emotion from “Distant Outings” until the end, with a faint spark of uplift in “Those Who Love to Fly Alone.”

Although 3epkano never reached the recognition level of Hammock, whose music often carries similar emotional weight, the band stands firmly on its own feet, weaving a soundscape that is not just melancholic but also dark and theatrical, much like the barren landscapes hinted at in the album’s title.