Each Sunday, Pitchfork takes an in-depth look at a significant Album from the past, and any record not in our archives is eligible. Today, we revisit Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s debut album, a despairing and sweeping document of post-rock.
The grizzled voice could be that of God. “The car’s on fire and there’s no driver at the wheel,” he begins over a ground-shaking rumble of drone, before surveying the horrifying landscape: The government is corrupt, buildings are imploding, the skyline is ablaze while a populace hides indoors, numbed by chemicals and drowning out the screams with the radio. The voice continues as mournful strings enter, playing a theme wracked by sadness and loss, the sound of the band on the deck as the ship goes down. Do we hear hope as a fragile guitar enters and repeats those lines? I think so. And once we sense that feeling of being crushed by despair while seeing a flicker of possibility, we’re fully inside of the universe of Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s 1997 debut, F♯ A♯ ∞.
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