In Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, Gregor Samsa is an ordinary man who is transformed overnight into an insect. In Richmond, VA, post-rock band Gregor Samsa’s debut album, 55:12, there are no such dramatic transitions. Subtle, incremental change is the order of the day.

This wouldn’t come as a surprise to you, given I’ve just cursed them with the tag of “post-rock band”, but it’s easy shorthand for the kind of slow, moody, delicate music they make. My feelings towards this oft-maligned genre have evolved much over the years. While I felt a lot of love for the noisy squalls of Mogwai’s “My Father My King” or “Christmas Steps”, their mellower songs seemed slight and inconsequential. It was also easy to dismiss Godspeed! You Black Emperor as purveyors of nothing more than drawn-out crescendos. As my attention span and ear for subtlety (or possibly just my tolerance for pretension) increase, I find myself drawn more and more to post-rock’s deep waters.

Gregor Samsa may be referred to by some as “just another” post-rock band. This is fair enough for mass-downloaders who need to be sold on a song in the first minute, but it’s hardly the point of the genre. On the surface, most post-rock sounds identical – it’s in the nuances and details that its creators realise their ideas and visions.

This is why Gregor Samsa can still be essential listening, despite the clear sonic parallels with aforementioned Godspeed and Mogwai, as well as Sigur Ros, Rachels and Low. Just as each new album by these artists can be a revelation despite strong similarities (unlike successive albums by, say, Pearl Jam), 55:12 is an important step (sideways) for the genre. Sure, it’s 2006 rather than 1999, but who’s counting?

The biggest difference between Gregor Samsa and their predecessors is the “pop” potential of their songs. Obviously I’m using the term loosely, but each track functions well as a standalone piece and most have some kind of vocals (even if they are well back in the mix). Most exceed the six-minute mark, but the individual songs have greater immediacy and autonomy than even those on Mogwai’s iTunes-ready Mr Beast.

The gentle, delay-soaked introduction to “Young and Old” sounds reminiscent of like mid-90s Low and the angelic, wistful vocals enhance the feeling. Mid-way the band segues through soft guitar downstrokes into a rising string section, moving inexorably towards the big orchestral-cum-noise-rock climax.

“Lessening,” with its delicate Rhodes and shimmering cymbals, also builds up towards an anthemic close, this time centred on a heavenly slide-guitar part. While Gregor Samsa use vocals and lyrics more than other similar artists, they are subtle and poetic enough to allow the listener a certain subjectivity. I’m not sure exactly what this song means, but it’s beautiful.

For a summary of why post-rock still matters, these songs are hard to go past.

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