Where exactly does a band from Singapore draw its influence? Here we are, the first paragraph into a review and already we've gone into the cliche route of determining influences. But, this is an important aspect to understand, as many countries with "developing" post-rock communities must look elsewhere to draw influence. Nearby Malaysia could possibly provide inspirational, but no band there has yet broke out onto the global scene (to my knowledge) with critical acclaim, so bets are we must dig deeper. Mainland Asia faces similar problems -- some countries have small, budding communities, but nothing to really speak of on the larger scale. Japan, then, provides a necessary point of reference. With the exclusion of Mono, Japan's market is only a few years more advanced from the other Southeastern Asian countries. This may be a large source of inspiration for Singapore's I am David Sparkle, but considering the band is currently in its sixth year of existence, we'd have to place our bets elsewhere. It would be interesting to connect this to Australia, who undoubtedly contains one of the most creative and versatile instrumental scenes in the world, but sadly, after a short listen this is obviously not the case. The only option left is then to retreat back to landmarks.

I am David Sparkle's latest offering, Apocalypse of Your Heart is two tracks of modern ambient, post-metal, both about fifteen minutes long. As a disciple of Mogwai, IADS should be required to bring a large dose of "the rock," but the major error of Apocalypse lies in the CD's flatness. Both tracks attempt to create a swelling composition, lengthy and bulky, with the clear intent to shift gears into epic and obliterating later in the track. "Apocalypse" opens the EP with very litter interaction between the listener and the band, appealing to a simple guitar and keyboard setup to catch our attention. It doesn't, and as the band hits the snooze button for the next seven minutes we drift away. What we can describe as a "moderately aggressive" bridge then segues into the second half of the track, which continues to bring in the uninspired noodling. This is really a track where the subtleties of the band's performance would heighten the experience, ala Jakob or This is Your Captain Speaking, but there's very little contemplation going in in the background as well. As a short segue between songs, this is fine for resetting the palette and allowing the listener to recuperate between tracks, but as a fifteen minute opener, and half of the presented material, it just does not cut it. Not anymore, at least. 

"2024" is where IADS saves face a little bit. The first half of the track shows that the band is learning from Red Sparowes and Isis, and the intensity is brought up to the correct level. The interaction between different instruments is well coordinated during this elapsed time period, and the repetitive nature of the track begins to yank some emotions from the once-sleeping audience. The last half of the track prematurely unwinds. It's premature, because the band begins to unravel as if it's just set off fifty atom bombs, and it hasn't. This ambiguity marks much of the album and inevitably fuels its downfall; I am David Sparkle can't decide if they're epic and aggressive, or just meandering and contemplative. Apocalypse wants to be both at once, and it's not convincing me that the band has done it's homework. Post-metal is not a difficult gig to play, you've got to nail down the basics.

At five years in, we must wonder if IADS has what it takes to pull itself around and challenge itself creatively, or if it's merely too stuck in its ways to change course. The former will require some major rethinking of the band's future, a demanding task indeed, and the latter indicates that that band is satisfied being "the local post-rock band."Apocalypse of Your Heart is a novel idea, but IADS is unable to carry through with the authoritative touch when it needs to, and there are too many missed opportunities which inevitably withdraw the listener from the band's world.

-Lee Whitefield