TEMPORARY FAULT

WE'VE MOVED

2010-09-15T02:34:00.001-07:00

This website has been discontinued as of September 15, 2010.
Please direct yourselves to www.touchingextremes.wordpress.com and bookmark it. All the reviews that were published here have been transferred on the new website, though they're still archived here to make things easier for everybody who linked them. See you there!

Memories Of Mr. 23 (The Alfred Harth Chronicles)

2010-08-30T12:04:00.001-07:00

ALFRED 23 HARTH - @ Blankies End + @ Eighties End

Laubhuette Studio

Described by its inventor as “another kind of looking back into the last decade”, @ Blankies End is one of the best records that Alfred 23 Harth has released in that period. By analyzing the titles, a forward counting towards 2012 can be detected while observing the recent past. In classically puzzling style, and open to any interpretation by the reader, Harth writes that “…being conscious about every moment we count & live in linearity (…) means a moment within a future moment (2012 is here & now & yesterday)”. The album’s content is both arcane and stimulating; repeated scrutiny is a must. “Ten Tin” contains materials that seem to mix human snoring, chanting monks and bubbling hisses in a conduit, the pace defined by a sort of electrostatic rhythm upon which the clarinet sings with unusual peacefulness, if just temporarily. It’s an inexplicably meditative vision, sounding a little scary at the same time, the grunting tone of Harth’s voice disloyal to the mental image I treasure of him as a timidly smiling gentleman. “Elf” (“eleven”) utilizes distortion in large doses, mashing and mangling snippets of concrete and instrumental substance in homage to the blasphemy of extreme dissonance. The toothsomely vicious results are to be savoured in the restaurant where the finest electroacoustic recipes are served. “Gesternmorgen” is an abstraction: an amassment of simple melodies clashing in adjacency, hyper-acrid reed perspirations, corrosion of heterogeneously alien harmonies and a pinch of disaffection for the cruel world of ordinary music. At the very beginning, “Popol Vuh” might evoke Jon Hassell (the pulse, the nearly tribal atmosphere). The differences become obvious when Harth starts superimposing the different reeds; meanwhile, the background gradually transforms the better intentions in an intimidating mutation of a religious chant, halfway through a sacrificial invocation and the complete disconnection from corporeality. The whole unfolds across undecipherable utterances and other assorted subliminal persuasions. “Twentyhundredtwelve” (namely 2012 or 20+1+2, as the composer would have it) features Choi Sun Bae’s trumpet in a ominous hint to the “enigmatic” year which will define once and for all if those famous prophecies are legitimate or not (curiously, December 21 – the presumed ending date – is also Frank Zappa’s birthday). Again, the voice is a fundamental ingredient of the track, which grows on the listener memorably amidst drones, squeals, gurgles, vociferous solos and warped lamentations, a remarkable episode in Harth’s recorded output. “Back Lantern” explores the fringes of the frequency region with a quick wink to the sweet cheapness of certain synthetic patches from two decades earlier (more on that later); nonetheless, the underlying extraterrestrial mantras and ebbing-and-flowing glottolalia are what actually corresponds to its actual muscle, highlighting a type of spiritual quest that sees the fear of the unknown as a regular incidence in an advanced being’s daily reflection. If someone had taught me to pray like this as a young child, I’d still be there at the church. “Der Schlaf Ist Eine Süsse Melodie” ends the set in typical A23H fashion, and I’m not going to reveal the secret. Go to the artist’s website and ask for a copy of this CDR pronto.

On a first listen, the connection between the above milestone and @ Eighties End doesn’t appear so easy (nothing is when this artist is involved). For starters, both recordings were realized at the closing stages of a decade (2009 the former, 1989 this). Then, a somewhat melancholic clarinet characterizes big chunks of the music(s) quite profoundly. Yet the reason behind Harth’s choice of retrieving this work from the archives is the perception of a reborn interest for some of the sounds in vogue in the 80s, with particular reference to notable presets (which, sure enough, this record comprises). The collection includes segments from a pair of diverse soundtracks: Antigone, a theatre piece played at Düsseldorf’s Schauspielhaus of which Mr. 23 was the musical director at the time, and Lachen, Weinen, Lieben, a film then broadcasted by ZDF. If the theatre act calls for something dramatically relating performers and listeners – for example, “Antigone.Nacht” offers exactly that in a progression of atmospheres at times reminiscent of Thierry Zaboitzeff – the soundtrack for the television feature shows a new facet of this multi-talented man, who manages to achieve credibility in that difficult field despite the intermittent use of timbres that everybody knows inside and out (…mainly from Korg workstations: lots of musicians, including yours truly, fell prey of those pads in that epoch) but, in his hands, are meshed and delivered with such subtleness that they often result as adequate, even to this day. The beauty of a sound always depends on the context and, especially, on the person who exploits it. In that sense, Harth is invulnerable: the control on the mechanisms and the correct sequencing of the sonic occurrences remains inflexible, the concepts are expressed without excess of discursiveness (which would contradict the music’s designed role in this circumstance). Ultimately, this is a slight detour from the renowned capriciousness of the German’s acoustic craft that permits a partial relief interspersed with a modicum of weirdness (as it happens in “Antigone.Ölfässer”, the general sonority enhanced by the actors via enormous oil cans in a peculiar Mad Max-like scenario).

A Spirale – Agaspastik

2010-08-30T12:02:00.000-07:00

Another CD released in 2008. This Neapolitan trio is composed by Mario Gabola (feedbacks and acoustic sax), Maurizio Argenziano (feedbacks and electric guitar) and Massimo Spezzaferro (drums and little things). The press release quotes Kevin Drumm and Bhob Raney as imaginary point of reference, but what materialized in my mind instead is the centre of a triangle whose corners are occupied by John Zorn, Zu and Curlew (the latter only in regard to some of Gabola’s bony phrases on the saxophone). Hold your horses: I’m not saying that we’re at the same technical and creative level of the above mentioned entities. In spite of this, there’s a freshness, a genuine will of having fun while playing - without posturing - that is rarely met when Italians are involved. Usually, in similar circumstances I notice a lot of “avant-pretentiousness” on these shores: become friend with/kiss the ass of someone important in a certain situation and you’ll be able to get all kind of undeserved accolades and “the-music-sucks-but-it’s-positive-anyway” reviews, even if you ain’t worth a shit (hey, let’s keep the promos comin’, folks). Fortunately, this does not apply to A Spirale, who attack the listener with serious ferocity, hammering the brain with obliquely “wrong” riffs, superimpositions of dirty upper partials, pre-explosion quietness, clamorous outbursts of semi-regular clangour defined by acrid miasmas and convulsively anti-pattern drumming. This writer thinks it is enough, at least for today. (Fratto9 Under The Sky)

The Peggy Lee Band – New Code

2010-08-29T10:37:00.001-07:00

New Code (2008) is the fourth outing by an octet (previously a sextet, subsequently expanded) led by cellist and composer Lee, a woman active in various artistic settings in the Vancouver area who has collaborated – among others – with Wayne Horvitz, Dave Douglas, Nels Cline and Bill Frisell. The latter’s influence is evident in the guitar arrangements (the axemen being Ron Samworth and Tony Wilson), soothingly wavering arpeggios informing compositional milieus that don’t allow the musicians to stray too much from the main harmonic establishment, more than ever in the pair of covers that open and close the CD (by Bob Dylan and Kurt Weill respectively). Three horn-blowing men – trumpeter Brad Turner, saxophonist Jon Bentley and trombonist Jeremy Berkman – execute clean-and-tidy designs amidst which the leader’s cello often seems to hide instead of fighting or moving at the forefront, which is a bit of a trademark in a way. Bassist André Lachance and drummer Dylan Van Der Schyff complete the line-up. I’ll be brutally honest: this is not an extraordinary album, overly meek as it is even in its improvisational traits. It is played well of course - but with a perennial smile on the face, not biting for a second. “Overeducated” is perhaps the best adjective to use in this case. Every now and then we need a little sting in between the cuteness, and it never happens. And you know what, a piano replacing the guitars in the orchestration would have worked better. All things considered, this music can work as a pleasant complement to quietness; sometimes this is just what’s required from a record. Sometimes. (Drip Audio)

Dave Stone - Solo

2010-08-28T22:01:00.000-07:00

Born in 1971, Dave Stone grew up as a multi instrumentalist but as an improviser has specialized in reeds, sharing experiences with several central figures of the St. Louis jazz scene (all of them quite mysterious to the author, who doesn’t miss a chance to prove his enduring lack of knowledge despite four abundant decades of swallowed recordings). In the fourteen episodes of Solo (2008) the protagonist showcases irrefutable talent and innate musicality through an array of saxophones and clarinets, occasionally naming the pieces with incomprehensible words (“Dundtor”, “Ackakaplakakpla”, “Belelelell”) that I instantly fell in love with. If you manage to last the whole of the album’s duration – not easy for a ham-fisted listener at over 68 minutes – the repayment comes under the shape of serious virtuosity characterized by legitimate intelligence. Stone chooses the right technique to explore every time, knows the value of silence and space between clean notes, convulsive spurts and unkind upper partials, unafraid of showing that he can play the damn instruments, not hiding behind pensive postures and false humility (the latter “qualities” always useful for getting profiles on major magazines). In some of the improvisations we were tempted to associate the playing to certain pages from Anthony Braxton’s book, but this may just be a silly flight of the imagination. The core of the matter is that this is great self-propelling music requiring patience and attention, exposing the artistic sheen of a man who wants people to really understand what he means, translating intentions into a rewarding physicality distinguished by a near-flawless command of the instrumental dynamics. (Freedonia)

Blechmann & Murayama, Andrea Polli, Son Of Rose

2010-08-25T05:52:00.000-07:00

TIM BLECHMANN / SEIJIRO MURAYAMA - 347

Recorded in Paris at La Comète 347, this CD presents an episode of the activities of Blechmann and Murayama intent in capturing different types of resonance in a large room, aiding themselves by various boxes of speakers and a snare drum. This is a classic case of document that exists just as a testimony of a live event, for getting tangible aural satisfaction from these successions of charged silences, diminutive noises and percussive patterns at home is not warranted (unless you’re a member of the “anything goes” reductionist party). What I did welcome instead was the hushed echo of the urban and inside environment caught by the microphones (including the alarm of an ambulance that, at one point, keeps company for a while until it dies – the alarm, not the transported person, hopefully). Nothing much to say in addition, except that we’re convinced by the seriousness of the intentions, but not overly enthusiastic due to the scarce depth of the acoustic messages. (Nonvisualobjects)

ANDREA POLLI – Sonic Antarctica

Quoting from her website's biographic notes, Polli - a woman gifted with an impressive curriculum vitae, go check yourselves - "works in collaboration with atmospheric scientists to develop systems for understanding storms and climate through sound (called sonification)". Therefore, it doesn't come as a surprise that this is another audible documentary, though quite different from what I had expected having read the title. In fact, the large part of this disc is taken by the above mentioned scientists speaking about lots of things (all of them related to the central theme, of course) and the inner reasons for what they do (moral obligations, role of the scientist versus the community, you get the picture). The verbal material is mainly interspersed by the continuous irregular pulse of the electronic signals that come from various weather stations placed in the explored areas, and – very infrequently – other types of sound such as walking on a glacier, the inside of helicopters in flight, radios and even a short snippet featuring penguins. Therefore be warned: this is more a spoken record than a collection of Antarctic sounds. An interesting listen from an intellectual point of view; a little less in terms of power of evocation elicited by field recordings. But, ultimately, it’s indubitably a sincerely purposed mission. (Gruenrekorder)

SON OF ROSE - All In

Iranian Kamran Sadeghi – aka Son Of Rose – utilizes the voice of a piano, an eBow and drums whose primary components get heavily processed during a live interaction with electronics. His interest lies in finding a way to render the timbral traits of popular instruments unrecognizable, which he achieves quite successfully. The problem might lie in the almost complete nonattendance of a compositional temperament, which – despite the solemn dignity of certain extended reverberations and the interest generated by accumulations of self-harmonizing hybridized tones – is felt as a slight impediment after a while, rendering All In more a gathering of simple experiments and ideas than a fully fledged inventive creation. This notwithstanding, some of the pieces are clearly the fruit of an attentive work of deconstruction, and the title track features the kind of impressively luminescent drones that will cause many aficionados to perk their ears. However, we’re not talking about “can’t miss” stuff. (Blanket Fields)

Lucio Capece / Sergio Merce – Casa

2010-08-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

At last I managed to listen to a CD that was floating on my desk since ages ago; shame on me, as always. At any rate, “casa” means “house” in Spanish (and Italian, too). The title comes from the recording place: you guessed right, at Sergio Merce’s home in Merlo, Argentina. The pair has been playing together since 1993, originally in very different contexts (baroque polyphony, anyone?); the duo as a separate entity started in 2002. Two tracks are presented: the first and longest one “Virar, Virar”, was realized through a sruti box (in essence, a harmonium), a filter and a tapeless Portastudio, played by Merce via small metallic objects manipulated in the recorder’s head area. It’s basically a drone piece with various gradations of engaged frequencies, sparse interruptions of the fundamental accumulation leaving a few moments to the mind to be relieved a little bit, lots of under-skin activities sounding like controlled feedback and random impulses. Impressive in parts, sporadically nearing Niblockian atmospheres. In any case, a serious approach which needs to be carefully examined: headphones are necessary to become conscious of what happens (also in the rear of the mix) whereas, by listening across a room, all we get is a series of wheezing slabs that oscillate and move, but ultimately result less striking. “Vieja Casa Nueva” is a duet for bass clarinet and tenor sax, much in the vein of low-frequency exploitation in regions bordering with onkyo. Parallel blowing, synchronized pauses, breath again, new matching whispered currents that buzz and throb. It goes on for about eight minutes, and it is nice to hear – although the former track is clearly more developed. (Organized Music From Thessaloniki)

Jesse Stacken, Monroe Golden, Yannick Dauby

2010-08-19T12:06:00.000-07:00

JESSE STACKEN – Magnolia

Jesse Stacken is a member of the Peter Van Huffel Quartet, and that’s how I first came across his playing. This album – which features bassist Eivind Opsvik and drummer Jeff Davis - reveals him as a versatile, sensible pianist and composer per se, whose interests reside halfway through the exploration of wider spaces for notes and, especially, overtones to resound (the meditative opening "Solstice", or the introvert "Time Canvas") and more dissonant and metrically charged passages (the title track and certain sections of "Crow Leaf Frog"). In "The Whip" we were reminded of Vince Guaraldi's pianism and overall scents: those of you who are well acquainted with Charlie Brown's cartoons will immediately understand. Stacken shows a thoughtful, considerate attitude when he’s following a contemplative vein: the interaction between his spare shapes and Opsvik's frail arco in "Aquatic House" is daintily sustained by Davis' whispered gestures on the drum set. And yet the program is closed by a tune - "Face" - branded by the appearance of power chords, no less. This clever concomitance of diverse aspects of the same artistic personality is what ultimately renders the record satisfying. (Fresh Sound New Talent)

MONROE GOLDEN - Alabama Places

For this reporter, Monroe Golden is a new name and a pleasing encounter. He is interested in the concurrence of commonly tuned and detuned sources, ears open towards phenomena linked to microtones. Alabama Places – his second CD - consists of 73 minutes of rather minimalist vignettes and rhythmic studies executed by Ellen Tweiten (piano) and Kurt Carpenter (microtonal keyboard) with accuracy and genuine interest for the material. To have a vague idea of how this stuff sounds, visualize a semi-synthetic crossbreeding of Moondog and Charlemagne Palestine without the mesmerizing auras generated by the latter's lingering harmonics. The compositions tend to a compact kind of mechanical repetitiveness - slightly modified by frequent, if minor variations in accents - distinguished by a mild melodious angularity. It is quite interesting at times, despite the low-cost nature of some of the presets used; indeed, fake harpsichords, harps and clarinets don't do justice to our aspiration of listening to authentic instruments, occasionally lowering the music's credibility a couple of notches. But, regardless of a slight degree of weariness caused by the methodical immutability after a hour or so, the experiments are legitimately appealing. By mentally fusing these somewhat misshapen visions with the composer's track-by-track description of each piece’s background, one becomes intrigued enough to repeat the playback, searching again for the elusive combinations of overtones that had engendered a positive reaction in the first place. Ultimately, the virtues of a gentle eccentricity prevail on the absence of deviations from the main road. (Innova)

YANNICK DAUBY – Overflows

Dauby lives in Taiwan, though he’s a French native. In his current homeland and in Saint Nazaire he gathered – upon commission of two different festivals – the materials for this excellent album of field recordings, whose sources were captured in 2005 and 2006 respectively. The listener individuates a strong connection with the material almost instantly and follows it throughout 44-plus minutes; Dauby chose elements that are reasonably recognizable – industrial noises, environmental glimpses, majestic wind – and assembled them with a sense of musicality that’s rarely found in other release in this area. The title seems to allude to the fact that the scenarios stream one into another: the clatter in a large room is gradually replaced by heavy rain, the engines of passing vehicles and the voices in a crowd introduce crickets and cicadas, and so on. Steadily, but also poetically in a way, the composer puts us in the driver’s seat of a splendid trip through the kind of acoustic consciousness that should constitute the primary constituent of our life, and a reason for being happy just to exist as a tiny part of this world. Too bad that many people will call these human emanations “sheer noise”; it’s not their fault. The finale is a breathtakingly beautiful surprise, which I’ll leave you to discover. (Sonoris)

Three From Graham Stewart's VioSac

2010-08-10T11:48:00.000-07:00

Known two decades ago as Violence And The Sacred (I still have one of the early LPs, Suture Self - this writer is getting old, you see) VioSac is basically Graham Stewart, from Ontario, who transform into (not always) wacky sounds the many suggestions that buzz in his mind, with just a little help from friends in some occasions. An old-tech type of acousmatic pastry – resolutely recorded on analogue tape – which reveals a number of very nice surprises. These three CDs represent the result of the project’s second coming after several years of hiatus; they were published yearly – starting in 2008 - and are reviewed according to their chronologic order. Hey you, people who spent a fortune for NWW’s Chance Meeting On A Dissecting Table: there’s more attractive substance herein.

VIOSAC – Rusty Pile

Instigation to obsessive behaviours through the use of a neurotic variety of dissonant sequencing (brought to extreme consequences in the exaggeratedly protracted title track). Elsewhere, intriguing reiterations and leisurely paced abstract electronics pave the way to an easier enjoyment of an ill-minded quietness, the impossibility of referencing the sounds to anything well-known a definite plus. Samples of classic music appear like funny ghosts amidst panoramas overflowed with deformed dichotomies and rambling precariousness. Spoken word (texts by a William Shakespeare) is not exactly welcome, especially when it ruins a beautifully misshapen string loop (“Sonnet 139/66”) or unspeakably nonfigurative suspensions (“Sonnet 64/15”). This is uncompromisingly disordered stuff: at times naïve, often labyrinthine, for the large part appreciably unendurable due to a reluctance to open the doors to a “first come, first served” kind of short-term audience. On the contrary, Rusty Pile must be attentively analyzed in order to appreciate its most satisfying traits, which translates into “legitimate experimental release”.

VIOSAC – You Are Planning To Enjoy The Apocalypse

The record was mainly composed on Korg analogue synthesizers plus “processed audio from primary source material and field/found recordings”. Besides the boss, it features the participation of other human entities in a couple of instances (Ted Wheeler and a “St. Deborah”). This time the title track - also the longest, once again - is placed right at the beginning but its compulsiveness is rendered more acceptable by the volatility of the sequences, and the nineteen minutes flow pretty easily. The rest is a mixture of relentless aural vexations and cerebral bewilderment permeated by sonorities that are best described as “deliriously cluttered”. One manages to get a vague impression of a few familiar elements: deformed voices, guitars equalized as if played inside a stomach. The recalcitrant temperament of some of these digressions – at times enhanced by industrial percussions who would test Job’s patience - is not exactly what will persuade a loved person to remain faithful. However, this constant rupture of any scheme that might remotely be associated with consonance and mental respite is entertaining. Quite often, this music is so absurdly unhinged that ends sounding like a sticky magma of cacophonic emissions of which we can just imagine the underlying plot. Fact is, this kind of matter has always interested yours truly and Stewart is not an adolescent foot-dragger.

VIOSAC – Dawning Luminosity

And so, when everything looked set for my third attempt to find strange words to depict another eerie recipe by Stewart, we’re instead welcomed by a brand of semi-static loop-based electronica whose overall sonority lies halfway through a depressurized Eliane Radigue and the above mentioned NWW circa Soliloquy For Lilith, with wider spaces for the mind to roam. There’s nothing much to report about in the unfolding of this work, which is subdivided in three parts and thus designed: “Music of sadness and resolution”. Let’s just say that it is a soothing kind of discreetly enigmatic ethereal soundscape with deeper implications than sheer “ambient”, definitely capable of involving the listener beyond its use as background (which is one of the options, although the sonic tissue implies something more interesting, being formed by a multiple layering-cum-modulation of Moog and Korg synths processed via Vermona and Roland effects). The features I love most are the slowly sloping waves and the warm pulsations generated by those machines, which – taken in the opportune moment – can connect with the mental dimension where rational justifications of psychoacoustic phenomena are not mandatory. We let the sounds do the talking, and they talk convincingly. As Stewart puts it, “understand, and you’re liberated”.

VioSac

Humi – Dune

2010-08-05T11:34:00.000-07:00

Humi was a duo formed by the late Hugh Hopper (bass, loops and electronics) and Yumi Hara Cawkwell (voice, keyboards and percussion). Concerning the latter, I remember having detested her vocalizations in another release on this imprint - Upstream with Geoff Leigh – so the nastiest thoughts were starting to materialize in my mind. Luckily, though Dune – released in 2008 - didn’t really manage to stir me up, it is in any case much better than that. This is due to its relative weirdness, explicated via a difficult-to-classify kind of improvisation that sees the protagonists meshing jazzy echoes (especially in regard to Cawkwell pianism), the trademark touch of Hopper on his beloved instrument, and bizarre concatenations of abstract noises, superimposed repetitions by means of a digital delay, backward tape-like effects, ritual chant – still rather unacknowledged here – and, particularly in the record’s second half, absurd “tunes” drenched with retro features (a vocoder???) and electronic sounds that are both amusing and tacky, a sort of soundtrack to a third-level horror movie. Yet one is attracted by the perverted charm of some of these eccentric tracks, unremarkable but at the same time endowed with a trait of uniqueness. At the end of the day, it all amounts to an interesting enough record, an oddity worthy of being heard. (Moonjune)

Terje Paulsen – Three Strings – 3s Second

2010-08-04T10:39:00.000-07:00

Norwegian Paulsen set himself out to restore some dignity to a pair of ancient instruments lying around the house, whose strings were about 30 years old. He applied contact microphones and a minimum of effects to the aged boxes, utilizing fingers, bows and eBow plus minor preparations such as wooden sticks to elicit nicely resonant harmonics, a few gentle noises and even drones of the breathtaking variety, like it happens in the second movement. It's an unpretentious, beautiful recording in its nudity, way better than the music released by the same artist on Mystery Sea's Horisont. Three Strings is subdued, articulate or nebulous depending on what’s necessary at a particular moment - and definitely more genuine. Propagations of life from objects destined to an undeserved euthanasia, evacuation of worthless appendages in favour of a welcome substance. This somewhat enigmatic management of instrumental decrepitness warrants several moments of serious absorption bathed in mucillaginous stupor. Very good stuff. (Et Le Feu Comme)

Bruce Gilbert – This Way

2010-08-04T10:31:00.000-07:00

OK, so Bruce Gilbert is a pretty illustrious name – Dome, Wire, etc. Too bad that, after the partial delusion generated in yours truly by the more recent Oblivio Agitatum (same label), I still can’t validate the raison d'être of such a consideration by listening to This Way, an album originally released in 1984 and defined “a stunning study of controlled ambience and subtle minimalism” by the press release. Pardon me? Apart from the graceful female vocal loop informing the first track, the bulk of this record is mechanically repetitive in rather annoying fashion for these ears, without relevant artistic logic if not for very short flashes. Perhaps, associated to the choreographies to which some of it constitutes the soundtrack, it could make sense (and it’s a big “perhaps”). But in terms of sheer musical value this is just scarcely significant drapery, interspersed with badly aged samples and typified by virtually inexistent compositional insight. And we’re not sure that our judgment would have much different 26 years ago. Highlighting an artist at any cost only because of right connections is something I’ve always detested, and this – in conjunction with the aforementioned CD - looks like an archetypal case of hype prevailing on effective substance. (Editions Mego)

Basta!, Aranis

2010-08-02T12:32:00.000-07:00

BASTA! - Cycles

The idea of Belgian Joris Vanvinckenroye – composing scores for solo double bass, superimposing the parts and utilizing the instrument’s traits to form lines, counterpoints and a rhythm section all alone – is good enough. The problem is that, even with a skilled performer behind it, Cycles is too harmonically light to be considered worthy of belonging in the elite – nor in the secondary rank - of the music we deal with on these shores; it may be a compilation of tuneful sketches or refined demos, but is not felt as a set of fully flourished pieces by this writer. The occasional flash of interest is soon replaced by the ascertainment of the insufficient density of the compositional matter, and – at the end of the day – listening to undemanding melodies, nicely executed in contrapuntal cuteness, is not what I’m looking for these days.

ARANIS - Songs From Mirage

Although still not considerable as a chef d’oeuvre, Songs From Mirage is a step forward by Vanvinckenroye, who in this case orchestrates for a chamber ensemble including two violins, accordion, piano, double bass, guitar and flute, plus a female vocal trio. Take the most digestible ingredients of Thierry Zaboitzeff, Julverne, late Philip Glass, Wolfgang Salomon (has anybody heard Luna – Small Steps For Mankind?) and shake them within accessible harmonic contexts spiced with a tad of Medieval and East European reverberations; organize the recipe for musicians who show positive adroitness and a degree of passion in the performance, and you’ll be partially acquainted with what these materials sound like. As a bonus, Aranis introduce a little dissonance here and there to make things moderately interesting. My advice is enjoying the disc via speakers at moderate volume: the way in which the whole evolves thanks to the chosen instrumentation lets the acoustic scent spread charmingly, sporadically rendering it more precious than it really is. (Homerecords)

Fergus Kelly - Swarf + Fugitive Pitch

2010-08-02T12:29:00.000-07:00

Swarf is a three-inch CD containing 20 minutes composed by gathering gentle noises emitted via bowed steel rods with sheet steel resonator, edited in consecutive loops and logical sequences in order to let them appear like veritable pieces of music. Obviously comparable to an acoustic sculpture or an installation – think a cross of a sedated Organum and a shut-in-a-closet version of Jonathan Coleclough – characterized by a sort of imprecise lyricism made acceptable by the short duration of the five tracks, each giving a different interpretation of the basic concept. Not really harsh, but also not excessively placid; minimalist in a way. Small doses of aural satisfaction are in any case guaranteed. A sufficiently grown-up release in this busy area.

Fugitive Pitch utilizes a longer period to better develop the notion, this time showing the consequence of improvisations (by Kelly and David Lacey) with metals, plastic and drum parts in cellars located under Dublin’s Henrietta Street. The raw materials were processed and seamed after being recorded, thus maintaining the structural coherence that had already been detected in the shorter disc. Needless to say, the level of gratification is increased by the larger resonance deriving from the setting in which this was realized; still, although the record is not lacking in fascinating roars and rumbles – with an even more attentive ear to the enhancement of long-drawn-out upper partials - not too much of truly groundbreaking can be reported. There’s no doubt about Kelly’s seriousness of intents though, his sound world definitely able to sustain our curiosity for the whole extent of the program and, at the very least, constituting a pleasant soundtrack for this early morning. (Room Temperature)

On The Instability Of Immobility

2010-07-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

MICHAEL J. SCHUMACHER – Weave

My first encounter with Schumacher dates back to 1999, when I nearly became an addict to the guitar-driven Fidicin Drones (note to uninformed drone maniacs: that’s an overlooked masterwork to look for). But the man is not one who stays on a ground for long, and nowadays his idiom is mainly computerized, much less static, always inexplicably fascinating, its scope widened to range between the universe of installations and membrane-tickling acousmatics (the latter aspect symbolized by the percussively zesty, rock-ish “ErosIon”, commissioned by the Ear To The Earth Festival in 2008). Exactly that year, Schumacher had published an interactive DVD-ROM on Experimental Intermedia - Five Sound Installations – which perhaps was too advanced a concept (namely, the involuntary creation of a different aural experience whenever the item is played) reserved only to those who have a suitable setup at home. The limited access to the media hampered that release’s larger diffusion and acceptance. With Weave there’s no such risk: six audio and two video tracks that can be listened/watched with a regular player (the videos still need a computer), which testify once again the versatility and the multihued qualities of this artist’s conceptions. In the magnificent “Loom” we meet the ebb and flow of low frequency, the aquatic character of certain impulses, the incessant jangle of concreteness, synthetic signals coming out of anywhere. “Malaise” is a chain of obsessively repeated fragments including percussive knocks, scalar exercises on a piano keyboard and misshapen easy melodies. “Part Music” investigates the hidden traits and the resonant features of an acoustic guitar (with special preference for the textural tissue of pinched harmonics); the conclusive “Refrain” utilizes micro-flashes of famous songs (is that “Stand By Me”?) amidst autumnal urban ambiances and solitary chords and pitches on the piano, the whole interspersed by snippets from old vinyls and “familiar” found sounds that can’t actually be deciphered (someone is definitely playing tennis, though). Great stuff, like the bulk of this stimulating CD. (Entr’acte)

STOP PRESS 7/29/2010. Regarding the above mentioned "famous songs" and "Stand By Me", Mr. Schumacher emails: the tune is actually "This Boy". Yet another case of delayed Riccian humiliation on the history of pop. Oh, well...

JASON KAHN & RICHARD FRANCIS – Jason Kahn & Richard Francis

These four tracks are the outcome of a restricted number of live meetings between two artists residing in opposite parts of the globe (Switzerland and New Zealand). Yet, by merging the essences of their search for the interior development of a particular sound, Kahn and Francis manufacture a worthy set of increasingly tense soundscapes for percussion, analogue synthesizer, computer and electronics. The opening pair of segments was recorded at the University of Auckland in 2007. The first is firmly entrenched in a semi-regular, unforgiving ringing mainly deriving from incisive synthetic timbres, which after circa six minutes turns into a quaking pulse scarred by various interferences. The second (also the record’s longest) is even sharper - intelligent racket and unsympathetic frequencies dominating for a while - then shifts to a pseudo-static phantasmagoria of clatter and crackle enriched by metallic rattling and a mixture of virtual firecrackers and gunshots, ending with resonant humming tones that change with your head’s motion. We go on with a segment from 2008, captured on tape in Zurich, which exalts the typical escalation – verging on an explosion that never happens – of Kahn’s classic works, enhanced by Francis’ knowledgeable use of his laptop to enforce different gravitational pulls on the whole, under the guise of ripping and slashing discharges of white noise. The last episode (Grenoble, same year) is quite intoxicating, roaring skins and flexible wickedness alimenting a darkish soundscape that leaves no chance for serene openings, closing a practically perfect release in style: the harmony of menace, the incontrollable pressure of an only apparent frozenness, inquietude defined by oscillating daydreams. One can’t avoid being caught up and completely allured. (Monochrome Vision)

On Acheulian Handaxe

2010-07-24T11:12:00.000-07:00

The label established by the man who invented the fabulous definition “endangered guitar”, namely Hans Tammen. You might like them or not, but there’s no question that these records are likely to challenge the listener in diverse ways.

DAFNA NAPHTALI / CHUCK BETTIS – Chatter Blip

A duo working with processed sounds, electronics and voice (Naphtali usually employs a Max/MSP software for her trips). The concept is basically that of a sci-fi play, although I couldn’t find the desire to focus my attention to the descriptions of the single “chapters”. Both the good and the bad of extreme treatment are evident throughout. Certain solutions are quite humorous – occasionally awesome – in their warped glory, completely unrecognizable voices utilized as instruments for the generation of baffling soundscapes abounding in rhythmic diversifications, clustery indeterminations and instant outgrowths dressed with timbres from the depth of a black hole. Yet, as the time passes, the formula becomes somewhat predictable, the novelty factor leaving room to a slight degree of staleness (not helped by the obviousness of the rare snippets of “regular” spontaneous singing, following well-trodden paths that have nothing left to reveal nowadays). Thus, for this writer’s taste this is a 50-50 record, not destined to eternal remembrance. But it is definitely worth of an attentive listen, given the participants’ indisputable earnestness.

AXEL DÖRNER & ERHARD HIRT – Black Box

Two extensive tracks recorded in 2007, using heavily manipulated/altered trumpet and guitar. An intelligent proposal in which the balance between real and modified timbres is practically perfect, also thanks to quieter segments - infrequently appearing amidst ceaseless ingenious spurts - that help the psyche to agree to the most alien sounds even better. The general mood is one of rather polite edginess, dictated by the almost total absence of familiarity in relation to the instrumentation’s concrete appearance. Dörner privileges subdued rumble, controlled power and a smart management of hiss-and-puff traits permeated of oral humidity; Hirt is into the utter modification of the axe’s tone, generating strangely resounding walls of harmonically transgendered chordal abortions, placing his statements in the right spots with incredible perspicacity. Yet he’s not opposing the use of the strings as a percussive device, halfway through a small bell and an African instrument. The resulting music is pleasingly polluting and gently upsetting: subliminal at times, straight to the point elsewhere, but still difficult to appraise unless you really concentrate on it. Overall, a stimulating release.

CHARLES E.IVES / FEDERICO MOMPOU – Concord Sonata / Música Callada I

Something entirely different here. Pianist Peter Geisselbrecht tackles scores from the repertoire of a pair of composers from the last century who apparently don’t have so much in common. However a link exists between the two, under the guise of the diverse types of spirituality to which both allude (respectively, associations to transcendentalism and Thoreau, and the influence of mystic poet San Juan De La Cruz). The underlying aura should not divert our concentration from the severe beauty of the resulting music, interpreted by Geisselbrecht with exactness and sentiment. At times Concord Sonata might result slightly problematical for the not conversant, its four parts mixing ponderous chordal superimposition and unselfish reflection in a succession of intense movements, (rare) ironic touches and grieving passages. It’s a demonstration of the viewpoint according to which solemnity and a sharp mind can live together after all and, ultimately, it is splendid stuff. Mompou is the one to choose for the most melancholic in the audience: the nine chapters of Música Callada are rather undersized and explicatively titled (“Lento”, “Afflitto e Penoso”, “Semplice” to quote but three). They continue what the more placidly thoughtful sections of Ives’ work had begun, establishing a typical impression of quiet sadness connected with classic “look-at-a-distant-past” atmospheres, with just minor deviations from this canon. We almost smell the dust of the large rooms in ancient mansions while mentally envisioning interminable silences, meaningful studies and timorous approaches to an equally shy counterpart. Objects of a reciprocal love that will never be confessed.

Old And New Hats

2010-07-20T01:24:00.000-07:00

An analysis of four recent (or less) releases and reissues kindly sent by Werner X. Uehlinger, deus ex machina of the Hat labels. More to follow.

TAYLOR HO BYNUM SEXTET – Forking Paths

A brilliant album, sharp and concise but at the same time full of snappish irony and unceremonious turnarounds. Bynum’s cornet stands alone at the beginning and end of the program in two intelligent solos, and there’s a couple of trios featuring him together with guitarist Mary Halvorson and drummer Tomas Fujiwara, in which the articulateness of the initial propositions leaves space to mildly dissonant frolicsomeness, generated by a kind of interplay that goes well beyond the classic jazz formats. The apex of compositional complexity – still informed by an utter transparency – is symbolized by the three movements of the impossible-to-type “whYeXpliCitieS” (the dedicatee being Anthony Braxton, the leader’s foremost mentor) that add Jessica Pavone on viola, another guitar (Evan O’Reilly) and Matt Bauder on tenor sax and bass clarinet. Here, the balance between the elastic restrictions given by the written parts and the actual enfranchisement from them reaches points of absolute exquisiteness, the music pointing towards structures à la Stravinsky one moment, to the acoustic portrayal of six stumbling toddlers the next, to a genuine fusion of influences in general. Throughout the 45 minutes the air remains invitingly fresh, the musicians’ cleverness shining bright, the adjective “lukewarm” all but forgotten.

LEE KONITZ / DON FRIEDMAN / ATTILA ZOLLER – Thingin

Third edition of an ear-gratifying meeting of kindred spirits, recorded live in March 1995. You know that I’m not averse to criticizing the standardization of a set of rules that have transformed jazz into a museum of commonplaces, but when one sets aside overhasty conclusions and just goes with the flow, there’s still a lot of admiration to convey for musicians of this pedigree. Since the very opening – Konitz’s “Thingin” – the path is clear: Friedman’s piano dictating refined progressions through which the saxophonist and Zoller communicate in an ever-sympathetic mutual acknowledgement. The guitarist’s immaculate tone is splendid, to the point that I pretended to miss a few wrong notes that pop out here and there during certain soloist flights, keeping in mind the overall warmth and nicely aged qualities of his playing instead. Konitz shows a proclivity for a controlled administration of the melodic stream, which matches the unparalleled ability for detecting thematic openings. A musical wisdom permeated by an uncommon self-restraint. Truth be told, Friedman is my choice as the cementing element in this trio: a pianist that sounds uncompromising and mild-mannered at once, the actual harmonic string-puller behind seven chapters after which pronouncing the word “purity” is not a sin anymore. His own “Opus D’Amour” – at times reminiscent of Gordon Beck - is perhaps the record’s top, offering romantic transport and contrapuntal perspicacity in a worthy combination of moods.

LOREN CONNORS & JIM O’ROURKE – Are You Going To Stop… In Bern?

These four tracks were recorded in 1997 (they were previously released as In Bern on HatNOIR). A pair of guitars for two entirely singular kinds of expression: O’Rourke is technically grounded, a considerate fingerstyle groundwork characterizing the refinement of enthralling passages - there are many - which keep the whole album’s configuration coherent enough. Connors looks to establish his celebrated blues-tinged stasis, tentatively placing sparse pitches that twitch, tremble and – sporadically - completely fall out of the harmonic border in moments of atrocious stridency which, in a way, characterize this man’s nearly mythical status more than the “right” notes (let’s be frank, certain twanging bloopers played by other people would have branded them as slouches). That said, this is not an album that must be dissected to separate good from bad. Its quality lies in the attractive kind of roomy resonance that the axes generate through superimposition of phrases and layering of chords. Based on this criterion, grace is delivered in abundance with nary a moment of ruthlessness, not even when Connors introduces distortion at the end. My only doubt sprang after reading Thierry Jousse’s final statement in the liners: “If John Cage had ever composed any country music, it would certainly have sounded like this”. Why in the world, one wonders.

JOHN ZORN / GEORGE LEWIS / BILL FRISELL – More News For Lulu

More News From Lulu is the second and final recorded chapter of this short lived trio, surely to be picked if you want to belatedly dip the toes in the particular stylistic choice that Zorn, Lewis and Frisell were exploring in those years (we’re talking 1989), namely the tackling of hard bop “classics” (...) penned by composers such as Hank Mobley, Sonny Clark and Misha Mengelberg, whose “Gare Guillemins” is rendered spectacularly in what’s probably the CD’s most enjoyable track. It is also one of the preeminent “technically soulful” expressions of each member: Zorn – of whom I’ve always preferred the saxophonist persona rather than the composer’s – is deceivingly sociable as ever, a biting tone ready to escort the listener across the rendition of a piece with fastidious exactitude only to squash a just apparent easiness with squeals and triturated notes that many people find odious, but that are instead coups of actual genius. Lewis’ trombone is a splendid machine for corpulent riffs, bass lines and thematic prepotency, executing tasks sharply and ironically at the same time in a genuine revenge for an often underappreciated instrument. Frisell has been a lost love of mine for over a decade now, and listening to those wild eruptions of modified digital delays – not to mention a spicy comping ability punctuated by sudden shards and controlled turbulence – enhances the feel of depression that this writer experiences in front of the unhealthy sugary wailings that he churns out today in a hundred useless records; a typical Philip Glass-like case in which success and wealth seem to have destroyed any artistic legitimacy in a musician’s spirit.

Dragon’s Eye: An Update Of Sorts

2010-07-09T22:53:00.000-07:00

Five releases from 2009 and 2010 for which we thank Yann Novak, whose ongoing support and patience are treasured. You can read more about this nucleus of sound-manipulating artists by visiting the label’s website.

SUBLAMP – Breathletters

Los Angeles-based Ryan Connor was born in a family of scientists, growing up in environments such as national parks and rocky mountains. This helped him in developing a keen ear in conjunction with the (unfortunately rarely met nowadays) awareness of being a scarcely significant component in the cosmic order of things, which on the one hand limits the typical human tendency to unwarranted egocentrism, and on the other renders the ability of discerning the inner qualities of sounds more enhanced than the norm. The nine tracks of this very nice CD show exactly that, mixing unconscious responsiveness and concentration in static soundscapes among the most satisfying I've stumbled upon recently, gifted with unpretentiousness and a wealth of harmonic textures despite the almost complete lack of movement or dynamic shifts. Connor used field recordings and regular instruments to expand the borders of his and our perception, which he seems to achieve without excessive effort. Scenarios that unfold consecutively and naturally, like the succession of nights and days. Obvious, and yet surprising, as the changes in the weather: beautiful to observe and, especially, listen to.

JAMIE DROUIN – A Three Month Warm Up

The title refers both to the duration of the groundwork for this effort (consisting of 124 individual field recordings made in an outdoor public square in Victoria – British Columbia, Canada) and the “cacophony of notes played by a symphony during warm up, when a single unified tone emerges out of the various instruments and voices”. I know from direct experiences that a city possesses indeed a monotone harmonic undercurrent whose sampling is possible only from a long distance, with exceptional results. This scribe will never forget - on an August 13 of about 20 years ago – the muffled murmur emitted by a then almost empty Rome (once upon a time people were still able to save some money for vacations) as heard from the hill where he lived at that moment. Drouin captured that kind of permanently lamenting stasis quite effectively by managing to filter out the excessively piercing frequencies and enhance the right ones, necessary for letting that municipal area sing with a wonderfully hoarse voice. This places the recording in close proximity to selected episodes of Thomas Köner’s discography. Not really fresh news - but definitely a satisfying album for lovers of scarce movement, also given its 77-minute length.

COREY FULLER – Seas Between

After reading about the wealth of instruments and treatments Fuller used for this album, and also the fascinating titles of the tracks, I was negatively surprised to find music that might occasionally recall a sedated version of Tim Story (especially when elementary harmonic successions are employed) amidst a rather unimpressive gathering of soft-spoken, or completely still pieces, at times coming dangerously close to sonorities strictly linked to New Age. This refers in particular to the conclusive the title track: a saccharine-drenched, soundtrack-ish atmosphere with a dose of “look-sweetheart-a-star-is-falling” violins - and, needless to say, water all over the place. The only features this reviewer managed to attribute a real value to were the luminously frozen strokes of presentiment characterizing episodes such as “November Skies Tokyo” and Snow Static”, whose naked beauty contribute to save the day at least partially. In consideration of what was just told, Seas Between works pretty fine as a nice complement for the crickets singing tonight around the house, but – artistically speaking – this is not an essential statement, despite the composer’s unquestionable good will and desire to involve.

IAN HAWGOOD – Snow Roads

A collection of aquarelles or, as per the press release’s words, “a demonstration of poetry through image and images turning to sound”. Hawgood is a sonic designer and a high school teacher who lives in Tokyo and London; his music is simple but not one-dimensional, if you get my point. Essentially rooted in the quintessence of contemplative inertia – with few exceptions, and with the contribution of peripheral found sounds – the fourteen tracks of Snow Roads are often appealing and, in general, a refreshing presence enriched by external inputs (Celer, featured on Tingsha bells, being the most renowned). The anal-retentive among us would probably note that there is not too much muscle under the façade, especially from the compositional angle: the pieces are all pretty short and, for the large part, exploiting a single source without concessions to excess of dynamics and harmonic change. Regardless, a definite influence of natural beauty permeates these sketches, making sure that the correspondence between the creator and the receiver is always free of obstacles, an explicit smile with joy in the eyes rather than a serious face implying counterfeit mysteries. Keep this going for a while at medium-to-low volume in the early morning and various layers of graciousness to your ears will be revealed.

YANN NOVAK / JAMIE DROUIN - +Room-Room

Two separate ways of conceiving the alteration of the perception of space in relation to sounds that start as normal but, once processed, become a completely dissimilar source of sensations and aural/psychological fulfilment. This is what transpires from +Room-Room, the soundtrack to a brace of installations situated in adjacent settings at Seattle’s Henry Art Gallery in 2009, of which this recording (published on the Gallery’s own label) captures the fundamental nature. Basically, Novak utilized the higher frequencies whereas Drouin preferred the lower ones; both interpretations of this study are quite engrossing, the former – splendid in its meditative motionlessness and invisibly morphing shapes - recalling an updated version of Charlemagne Palestine’s investigations with oscillators (circa Four Manifestations On Six Elements), the latter generating a gradually expanding huge mantle of finely tuned reverberating murmurs and hums, a hovering cloud that nonetheless leaves plenty of clean air for a different kind of movement, occurring inside the sonic texture and the discerning addressees. Utterly devoid of bells and whistles, anchored to the basic essence of environmental sound, these are brilliantly realized, efficient soundscapes that deserve to be mentioned among the genre’s best releases. An example to follow in terms of acoustic sobriety and artistic earnestness, topping this lot together with Sublamp’s Breathletters.

Atmospheric Conditions

2010-07-04T12:14:00.000-07:00

A weekend spent in company of albums sent by Daniel Crokaert and Christoph Heemann, both of whom are hereby thanked kindly.

MATT SHOEMAKER – The Sunken Plethora Consumes All

I smiled when reading these words describing Shoemaker’s sound art within the promo’s sleeve: “barely relying on models generated by his predecessors or current peers”. That’s absolutely fallacious: there’s a lot of things here that one could associate to other people and records of this area. Organum, Irr. App. (Ext.), Jim Haynes to name just three, and – get this – even Popol Vuh-like phantoms somewhere. What’s true instead is that this man reveals himself to be an artist who can organize sonic sources quite smartly, the result being a record that offers enigmas and symphonious concreteness in equal doses. Starting from the natural field recordings – very beautiful ones, admittedly – of the initial “Hovering” the composer leads us through a thick undergrowth of drone and resonant clangor without falling in the canons of shameful imitation, always setting the listener in a frame of mind between perplexed and spellbound (this reviewer fell asleep during the first headphone try). The development of “The Apneist” transits across stunning static mirages blemished by metropolitan traces (and perhaps the moans of a didgeridoo, but – again – it’s all very well done). By the time we have arrived at the final stages with “Hallucination Pool” – possibly the most dramatic piece - and the title track (the sinisterly moribund tolling at the beginning of the latter is exactly the thing that was needed) the music has gradually become an established component in the neighboring environment while managing to nourish an invisible inside quaking in a much more effectual way than what was imagined at the outset. (Mystery Sea)

JAMES MCDOUGALL – Dispossession Of Periphery

Australian McDougall is also active under the Entia Non moniker, but I had never met his work before listening to this record. It’s a noteworthy opening encounter, the music repeatedly approaching flawlessness (according to this writer’s current disposition, and always exclusively concerning this genre). Like the large majority of the artists working with processed field recordings and ultra-low frequencies, McDougall did not invent a new way of doing things. Still, it is much better when a musician accomplishes an emotionally involving result by utilizing known means as an adjunct to their personal sensibility than attempting to astound the audience via techniques, sounds and tricks that might sound innovative at first, only to reveal an absolute poverty of genuine compositional ideas. The man handles the classic features of unfathomable atmospheres that an authentic, insightful critic would call “organic” – rustling noise, subaqueous shuddering, preternatural reverberations and (especially) throbbing dilations of rumbling emanations – within a precise scheme that allows us to forget about what’s happening around and just enjoy a persuasive cerebral rubdown. Some of these drones possess a “subterranean choir” quality that strikes at various levels of depth, “Porcelain Hull” and “Pallid Lantern” among the favourite episodes in that logic. The matters coming from the real world are so well masked and employed that recognizing them is perceived as a pleasure, not an aggravation. Propagations of vibes that literally ask to be incorporated by our systems, deployed with artful intelligence. (Mystery Sea)

TERJE PAULSEN – Horisont

A Norwegian multimedia artist heavily influenced – as most people working in this field – by his immediate surroundings, whose voices are blended with actual instruments to constructs cinematic glorifications of indistinct panoramas bathed in cavernous reverbs. Let’s anticipate the verdict and notify that this release didn’t really convince me, despite several moments of seemingly undying stillness that might work much better if they were left alone. “Alone” in this case means that the complementary appendages are too obvious and recurrent, with particular regard to a surplus of liquid elements (at the risk of repeating myself, it’s about time that the use of flowing waters on disc gets seriously restricted by some kind of controlling organism), vastly resounding metals and roaring noises from the Earth’s uterus that sound quite stereotyped and shared with at least 20/25 titles from this label, and I’m being charitable. That said, the drones concocted by Paulsen are often rather impressive, especially when the pulse is enriched by what sounds like lingering clouds of Tibetan bowls and other additional harmonic components. Had it been entirely so, the record would have functioned just fine as a mind-enhancing background, without pretenses of sorts. As it stands, it is a collection of mere atmospheric gradations tending to mystifying (?) obscurities, lacking a consistent design and impoverished by a number of commonplaces relative to this sonic subdivision (which, on a second thought, actually thrives on the routines of fake enlightenments, meditational ostentation and apparently profound, yet desperately one-dimensional concepts for its large part). Not considering this, Paulsen’s stuff feels honest. A good starting point for potential betterments. (Mystery Sea)

ANDRÉS KRAUSE - Move Ground

This vinyl edition documents an audiovisual installation whose premiere occurred in 2005 at the Horkunst Festival in Erlangen, Germany. The analysis of assorted ambiences constitutes the essential groundwork, human presence ebbing and flowing throughout. The rest is reticent whirring and mesmeric stasis (courtesy Christoph Heemann): not too much to recount, if not in a merely descriptive vein based on the sensations experienced. Remote allusions to the city, chatting people in a hall, unremitting severe frequencies that above a certain volume level make my room’s loose parts tremble quite a bit. While I’m playing this, a thunderstorm is breaking the silence of an awfully hot Sunday, and the combination of real and recorded essences works rather well. As the urban landscapes appear again somewhere on the first side, a sense of desolation – accompanied by the personal consternation related to another upcoming week spent amidst insipid things of which I don’t care a iota about – colours the general temperament, soon replaced by the mantra sung by a choir of crickets sustained by a splendidly blurred electronic monody. At one point in the second part some echoing steps, an awesome drone and the faraway rumble outside the window put your writer “in the zone” for a good couple of minutes. This reciprocation and merging of brain-numbing inviolability and suggestions of regular life heard far afield is the main characteristic of this album, an unpretentious display of ascetic linearity containing infectious memorabilia. (Streamline, distributed by Drag City)

Memories Of Mr.23 (The Alfred Harth Chronicles)

2010-06-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

ALFRED HARTH – Brocken/Biest 01/01
ALFRED 23 HARTH - Laub

Laubhuette Studio

In 2001, Alfred Harth was enduring a bit of physical trouble, related to the many years spent with a piece of reed around his neck. He decided at that time to give an unusual spin to his music by starting to use electronics quite frequently while diminishing the use of the heavy honker.

The first result of this switch is the live composition "Brocken/Biest 01/01", a 72-minute trip through hundreds of garbled shards mostly informed by a tendency to technological riffraff and schismatic sampladelia. The title is an evident pun on “broken beat”, but in German it translates as “lump (piece) of beast” (!), whereas 01/01 – recalling the binary code – is actually a mere reference to the recording date (January 2001). Divided in 13 segments consecutively linked (as in a perfect 12-inch mix - in fact, one of the effects used is that of the cyclical crunch of vinyl), this is an exciting aspect of Harth’s crafty engineering skills. However, it is not something to assimilate painlessly; the quantity of events utilized by the Frankfurter is huge, the brain struggling to collocate each detail in the correct place with just a transitory listen (which, incidentally, should not be done with ANY record). Suffice to say that there are traces of unimaginable obsessions everywhere, fused in an individual concoction of misshapen visions and bizarre backgrounds that sound intimidating, paradoxical, or both; the whole sustained by rhythms that can be either spastic or disco-regular. Myriads of samples are seamed in masterful fashion, their consecutiveness generating a “let’s-see-what-comes-now” kind of expectation in the listener. Incomprehensible radio snippets, the Warner Bros audio logo camouflaged in liquid equalization, surrealistically twisted power chords, voices from inconceivable places (with particular relevance to intriguing Oriental accents that, pertinently deformed by AH, give the idea of a continuous gurgle generated by someone who’s about to throw up. Difficult to explain in words, but fantastic in terms of pulse). A few tracks even show a peculiar, definitely unintentional resemblance to chosen chapters of Muslimgauze’s discography. The best method for being invaded and ultimately conquered by this great mishmash – to be especially treasured by those who appreciated the “Mother Of Pearl” series – is keeping it going ad infinitum for at least four or five hours, letting it become a part of your physicality while completely intoxicating the senses. You’ll soon realize that reality does not look the same from which things had started, and it feels damn good.

Laub is an only apparently simpler specimen of Harthian creativity, yet it’s without a doubt the more enigmatic item of this pair (and, in truth, among the most cryptic offerings I’ve heard from the Seoul expatriate). The record’s name means “foliage”, a word also referenced in AH’s private studio “Laubhuette”, which stands for “hut made of leaves”. The music – mainly obtained by alternating indefinable stringed instruments, electronic/concrete materials and echoes of Korean activity – is essentially a cycle of “remixes, fragments and field recordings” captured between 2004 and 2006 and comprising rare gems such as the impenetrable “Nonunhappiness”, an exhilarating – and unfortunately short - remix of a snippet of “Domestic Stories” (somehow evoking Elliott Sharp’s cybernetic guerrillas), and assorted chunks of “iGnorance”, Harth’s homage to composer Yun I-sang, of whom the protagonist uses a beautiful string section from a work called Piri , re-baptized “Piri II” for the occasion. There’s a perceptible severance between the nude acoustic soul of a crude improvisation like “Peripathy, A Sufi Prayer In Corea” and the acousmatic complexity of “Spagat”, an impressive cross of theatric vocals (by Yi Soonjoo, Alfred’s life partner) and whimpering dogs recorded in a farm. “Direct Jazz II” utilizes superimposed sax flurries upon a multitude of strata including synthetic improbability, shortwaves and metropolitan moods. The mind-boggling “Rueckbrick” closes the CD on a slightly anguishing note caused by fickle electro-multiplicity (picture a stoned Jon Hassell/Terry Riley Siamese couple) and various species of mystifying glissando. Overall, the album’s singular components - whose blending may initially appear ludicrous - coalesce consistently after the third or fourth dutiful scrutiny, confirming the man’s ability in pulverizing the original meanings of his objects of study and combining them into artistic reports that, once brought to light, instantly overshadow the globally accepted standardization of composers appositely deified by the regime universally identified as “specialized press”.

Rhodri Davies Was Here

2010-06-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

RHODRI DAVIES / GREGORY BÜTTNER - 3 Harp Treatments

The origin of this music is a 10-minute harp improvisation sent by Davies to Büttner after they decided to start a collaboration in 2006. The three chapters are completely different in character and dynamics, giving the listener a chance to discover hidden, or just elusive aspects of an instrument that too often gets mentally associated with beatific choirs and syrupy orchestral settings. "Glas" begins with fairly fluid features, soon followed by a deeply resounding changeover to algid sonorities - fluctuating in a vast acoustic space - that inexorably call Asmus Tietchens' work to mind. "Plok" is beyond doubt a lesser episode, essentially illustrated by nondescript microsonic activities and untailored appendages spotting the general quietness, scarcely weighty on a compositional level. In a classic case of dulcis in fundo, the conclusive "Bow" saves the best for last, introducing us to an absorbing study of booming frequencies in feeble luminescence, slightly perturbed by blurred underwater chugs towards the end. While it's true that recurring to drones to save the day is a well-known escape from trouble, in this occasion Büttner delivers by ending a half-interesting album on a positively compelling note of unsettling incertitude. (Auf Abwegen)

JOHN BUTCHER / RHODRI DAVIES – Carliol

Carliol comprises seven tracks recorded by Butcher and Davies on a choice of saxophones and harps, enhanced by motorized appliances and making use of embedded speakers. Both types of instruments find an ideal point of fusion at the border between feedback and drone while keeping their exclusively acoustic properties intact – the clack of the keys, the plucked attack on the strings, the “frying” noise of the mouthpiece – thus reaching a nearly perfect dynamic stability which is reflected throughout the 44-plus minutes of this stimulating album. Even before the start, the awareness of the artistic blamelessness always shown by these musicians predisposes the cognizant listener in a certain frame of mind. You know for sure that nothing but serious experimentation will be heard, independently from the likeableness of the sheer aesthetic outcome. In this case, the expectancy is fully recompensed by the successful attempt of Butcher and Davies to demonstrate new ways of expressing what they had already discovered in the past. The flutter and the vibration interact superbly, meshing intuition and predetermination; many of these sounds are clearly manifest at first, yet the same piece that starts so concretely can intoxicate with clouds of noxious upper partials at the end, without a conscious realization of the process on the audience’s side. The close frequencies giving birth to the dissonant throb in “Ouse Poppy” and the incandescent rays generated by the Aeolian harp in “Distant Leazes” as Butcher’s funnily talkative soliloquy goes on are just two amidst several representative pictures in this collection of pleasant contrasts and gracious antagonisms. (Ftarri)

Timo Van Luijk Sends News Via Vinyl

2010-06-20T11:01:00.000-07:00

Let’s talk about a pair of delightfully scented limited edition LPs received a few months ago by Timo Van Luijk (Noise Maker’s Fifes, In Camera, Asra among his past and ongoing projects). Translation for the inexperienced: this man – besides a considerable individual talent - has been joining people of the caliber of the late Geert Feytons, Christoph Heemann and Raymond Dijkstra. Always a pleasure to listen to such an erratic kind of unadulterated music, regardless of aesthetic assessments and personal appreciations.

ONDE – Purple

Onde is an improvising trio existing since 2006, Purple being their third release. The lineup consists of Van Luijk plus Greg Jacobs and Marc Wroblewski; here they play electric guitar, violin and metals respectively. Apart from a brief interlude defined by a quiet arpeggio, the first side is mainly occupied by a steady acid pulse rather reminiscent of Tony Conrad and Faust’s Outside The Dream Syndicate. The pattern is monochromatic and monotone, though absolutely not wearisome. It goes on and on incessantly, with minor variations in the enhancement of the timbres (presumably resulting from the use of pedal effects). The second half is founded on the same relentless cadenza, this time sounding like if reproduced by a reversed tape and enclosed by a horde of stridently inharmonious saturated sonorities, at times giving the illusion of a wild bunch of bagpipes. Here, too, we’re gifted with another short-lived hypnotic segments, oddly recalling Aidan Baker’s loop-based reveries. In terms of aural gratification and generation of uneasy mental states, this part is slightly superior to the former. In any case, this is a strange album: not something that one imagines to play endlessly or just repeatedly, yet imbued of pleasantly venomous substances that give it an aura of welcome cynicism, in turn eliciting an alarming sense of discomfort. But it’s also very energetic. (Ondemusic)

FREDERIK CROENE & TIMO VAN LUIJK – Voile Au Vent

I remember having written about Croene’s Hout CD in duo with Esther Venrooy quite a while ago but, other than that, my familiarity with his methods of expression was virtually nonexistent to date. Mea culpa: the absolutely brilliant Voile Au Vent – performed by him and Van Luijk on an array of unspecified instruments besides the evidently recognizable ones – immediately startles with the opening track “Vortex”, magnificently weird oscillations of pitches following a funereal bass line among echoes of warped pianos and hazily subversive chorales underlined by cheap beats. “Libersee” keeps things interesting by mixing what sounds like comatose reeds and different types of exhausted orchestral sources with acerbically echoing notes in the high register of a completely misshapen mysterious instrument (perhaps it’s piano again?) and assorted kinds of heavy percussion. Unique, to say the least. Side B begins with “…Pour Que Le Vent…”, a ghostly – and occasionally rather scary – accumulation of tolling metals, clusters of flutes, abnormal shrieks, hovering presences and rumbles from the underground likely to transport the listener straight into a luminously preposterous Puzzleland. The final “Triangle Du Diable” exploits the suspense elicited by a boundless tendency to the destruction of an actual harmonic tissue, doing it via practical suggestions in the shape of familiar instrumental voices, concise stop-and-go’s and wavering electronics assembled over various strata of improvisational inspection of the psyche. Halfway through flexible and delirious, this is a great record under any circumstance. (La Scie Dorée)

12k / Line Roundup

2010-06-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

Recent - and less - outings by these labels. Thanks as usual to Taylor Deupree for the systematic support (I’ll try and analyze the DVD releases in another write-up, Taylor...)

PJUSK – Sval

The duo of Norwegian Rune Sagevik and Jostein Dahl Gjelsvik, Pjusk came to attention three years ago with the excellent Sart. This new work, despite its unquestionable elegance and the evident care applied in the functional placing of the single elements in the mix, is not on the same artistic level, resulting quite unemotional and in parts stereotyped. Mostly pulse-based, the music does show a handful of moments of radiation; yet it happens only in short spurts, also due to a compositional linearity that too often transcends to sequence-driven leniency and rather conventional electronic daydreaming - ghostly voices, interminable echoes, blurred visuals, you know the script. But there’s more than a set of well-rounded sounds to the realization of profoundness, and this time it looks like style has prevailed upon substance.

ALVA NOTO – For 2

Ashamed of himself, your correspondent must reveal that he never heard the first volume of For, the underlying notion being of course that of “homage to someone or something”. Carsten Nicolai conceived and collected these pieces over the years, each one dedicated to an artist or creative entity – this time including Heiner Müller, Phill Niblock and, of all things, The Kingdom Of Elgaland-Vargaland. I’m still under the influence of the unsurpassable UTP_ with Ryuichi Sakamoto and the Ensemble Modern, reviewed here a few days ago, therefore accepting a return to the exclusively electronic palette, uncomplicated geometries and steady pulses of these medium-sized miniatures was not the easiest task. But once we break through the real meaning of Alva Noto’s interior vision, everything suddenly connects and the minimal structures – imbued with typical refinement and connectable to a gestural rituality that make one envision the early morning activities of a lonesome individual – assume a wholly different weight in our transient reality, separating noise and pure frequency, ultimately generating a distillate of essentiality from the superfluous components of a milieu.

LOVESLIESCRUSHING – CRWTH (Chorus Redux)

Admitting one’s ignorance, part two. Not only I had never heard the first edition of Chorus, originally an extremely limited item released in Peru (!); your scribe hadn’t listened to Loveliescrushing until today, full stop. The duo of guitarist Scott Cortez and vocalist Melissa Arpin-Duimstra is active since 1991 on the basis of the extreme modification of the fundamental timbres of their sources. No other instrument is utilized except guitars and vocals, both rendered unrecognizable through heavy processing. With the above mentioned Chorus they went a step further, choosing to exclusively use and manipulate vocal snippets. CRWTH presents a complete redesigning of that work, maintaining some of the essential singing components intelligible in a slowly stretching cycle of angelic tones, subsonic vibrations and semi-real replicas (the seagull-meet-whale melodic cry in the striking “Nauv” is a nice touch). There are occasional reminiscences of Cocteau Twins (Robin Guthrie is thanked in the liners) and Eno circa Music For Airports, with a handful of episodes enlightened by contemplative majesty: the final triptych “Shemerr”, “Flrm” and “Viaux” – virtually inert harmonies directly connected to universal perpetuity - and the impressive unfathomable moaning in “Laujl Vfx” come to mind. As this writer remembers (with a sense of repulsion) Claire Hamill’s Voices - an atrocious New Age pastiche of easy melodies for shopping malls – hyped as a masterpiece many years ago, we can rest contented enough with this record, whose original version plus three fresher ones are downloadable if you buy a copy of this.

SMALL COLOR – In Light

A duo from Japan (Rie Yoshihara and Yusuke Onishi) performing overly melodic rudimentary songs on accordion, keyboards, guitar, banjo, bass with the addition of programmed rhythms. A few tunes are sung by Yoshihara (aka Trico!, we’re told) in sheer syrupy vocalization, or in Japanese. Apparently there’s a lot of people around the world who still loves this type of mellifluous oriental indulgence, yet I can’t force myself to give it enough relevance to consider it as really serious music. Some of it is half-heartedly funny, the large part is characterized by the kind of naiveté that tastes like a soft bonbon forgotten for many hours in a car parked under a hard summer sun. After ten minutes, my bitter realism suggests the consideration that there are thousands of real artists more deserving of being heard than Small Color. Initially, In Light might sound as a curiosity; in reality it lacks any sort of even slight interest, depth and inventiveness for this writer. More than a “departure” (as written in the press blurb), this is definitely a subpar release compared to 12k’s habitual levels.

GIUSEPPE IELASI – Tools

Seven brief rhythmic studies created by Ielasi with everyday objects. Specifically: cooking pan, rubber band, polystyrene box, metal rod, aluminium foil, tin can and paper lamp. The meticulous type of recording permits to catch details that a distracted listen might be missing: scratches, thumps and purrs given by the amassing of certain frequencies, intertwining sub-patterns under the basic beat and, in general, intriguing combinations of percussive resonances are all part of a recipe that results quite edible; in at least three instances – rubber, aluminium and lamp – the resemblance to real instruments is truly impressive. Some of this stuff could even cause someone to tap their foot for a while. A polite divertissement that, for our good luck and thanks to the composer’s sensibility towards the listener, is not reiterated for more than the necessary time: the record lasts in fact 19 minutes and 49 seconds.

TAYLOR DEUPREE – Shoals

As an artist in residence at the University of York’s Music Research Center, in England, Taylor Deupree found and immediately put to good use four Balinese gamelan instruments – Celempung, Gendèr, Saron and Bonang – belonging to the faculty. Shoals, his latest solo outing nearly three years after Northern, is entirely constructed upon layered loops that the composer generated by playing them in real time, but not in the expected manner. In fact, he stretched, superimposed, pitch-transposed and in general rendered more malleable the noisy features of the sonic tools, elicited by unconventional manipulations (scraping edges and undersides, or working on defects such as broken strings and the like). Once the activity was captured on tape together with the originator’s own noises as he worked in the studio, the whole was subjected to additional treatments under the guise of an Eventide Eclipse and a software called Kyma, which allowed Deupree to further develop his instantaneous intuitions. The result deserves to be warmly welcomed: in its semi-organic straightforwardness, this is a perfect paradigm of engaging reiterative music which, in the right circumstance - and even raising the volume a bit - reveals the complexities lying behind a world of subtle motion and attractive chiaroscuros while highlighting an intelligent approach to introspective improvisation. In this case, the ultimate key to a mitigating totality which works great both for active listening and for simulating an installation at your place.

Great Music, No Matter The Label

2010-06-15T12:25:00.000-07:00

Enough said. Get this stuff pronto.

DANIEL MENCHE – Odradek

Another grand release by our favourite Oregonian, his artistic consistency impressively unswerving for almost two decades now, not to mention a style that has become instantly identifiable across the years. Odradek is divided in a pair of long tracks, essentially created via the use of unspecified "acoustic instruments", drums and electronics. The first is classic Menche, a massively crunching pulse born from a few simple rhythmic components that grow to be increasingly violent and crushing with the passing of time, the whole underscored by the usual, indispensable throng of extremely effective subsonic hums (or Oms, perhaps). In the second segment an unclearly filtered German-speaking voice (Markus Wolff, also the author of the splendid hybrid creature adorning the cover) recites a text at the beginning and end of a more tranquil, but still threatening exercise in the hypnotically authoritative control of the listener's brain. The dominant tone colour is one of resonant metal obtained through a synthetic treatment, sort of a tolling bell surrounded by lenitive frequencies. Think of a soundtrack for the last thoughts before getting anaesthetized on an operating table: we can imagine what's going to happen, yet remain unable to react. Later on a static string-scented texture appears, growing in intensity with other elements such as a slightly distorted, repeated low pitch and additional obsessive ringing. This continues until the closing stages, Wolff's accent remaining totally unaccompanied in the final seconds. Needless to say, playing the record loud augments its psychological weight, as it's always the case with this artist's output. (Beta-Lactam Ring)

JANA WINDEREN – Energy Field

Winderen recorded the sources for Energy Field in the Barents Sea, Greenland and Norway through hydrophones, a parabolic reflector and assorted microphones. The consistently engaging results amount to one of the most striking records dealing with environmental materials heard in years, unquestionably belonging among the finest Touch releases in recent times. In “Aquaculture”, marine sounds and voices are fused into a gigantic accumulation of resonant currents and overwhelming reverberation, becoming one and the same with our own breathing rhythm. The extremely detailed noises and squeaks opening “Isolation/Measurement” give an idea of this Norwegian artist’s ability in capturing the essence of apparently irrelevant moments, first attributing a musicality to them then contextualizing the products in a larger frame where the listener is transported on site without moving, such are the intrinsic qualities and the vividness of the details. Again, what emerges is the impression of massiveness and, contemporarily, of rarefaction that the overall textural complexion elicits. “Sense Of Latent Power” is characterized by the (unfortunately brief) appearance of an unspecified animal’s chattering surrounded by the stifled roar generated by the assemblage of underwater recordings, which in the end are splendidly enhanced by a heavy equalization and put adjacent to additional idioms by aquatic protagonists, adding oneiric nuances to the imposing final blur. The silently persistent nature of the liquid features of this track contribute to a glorious spectacle of different gradations – concrete versus ethereal – that would convince even a cold-hearted sceptic. Four listens in less than 10 hours tell it all. (Touch)

ACOUSTIC GUITAR TRIO – Vignes

Dedicated to one of its members (Rod Poole, tragically murdered in 2007), Vignes captures the very spirit of the Acoustic Guitar Trio, the remaining components being Nels Cline and Jim McAuley. This unit existed in performing shape from 1999 to 2003, year in which this set was recorded at Los Angeles’ Downtown Playhouse. As Cline himself reports, AGT were “a concentrated sampling of three microtonal improvising acoustic guitarists”, who decided “a tuning on the spot for each improvisation” before launching themselves in investigations that exalted the guitar’s dynamics and the peculiar kinds of resonance elicited by those impromptu tunings. The CD comprises three segments, which we must thank Poole for (besides producer Fabrizio Perissinotto), since he was the person in charge of keeping a steadiness in recording every single performance by the group. The music is typically shimmering, occasionally harsher; the superimpositions of off-centre arpeggios, percussive slaps and bizarre chords generate mildly warped clouds of upper partials that only those who are familiar with unconventional methods on a guitar can understand the essence of. Preparations, tools and bows are also part of the recipe, and they’re used quite cleverly (in particular during the third and final chapter). This doesn’t mean that the record is an exclusive for specialists; on the contrary, it represents an excellent chance for the uninitiated for realizing that this abused instrument is a microcosm replete with scintillatingly vibrating features. But expert hands are needed to bring them out and show the consequence: this earnest album succeeds in making us regret both the end of a creative life and the ceasing of an intriguingly “subversive” project, really sounding like nothing else. (Long Song)

Overlooked Gem Alert

2010-06-14T01:16:00.000-07:00

ALVA NOTO + RYUICHI SAKAMOTO With ENSEMBLE MODERN - UTP_

Time to give the proper relevance to a somewhat unsung masterpiece fusing rationality, emotion and adroitness in equal doses. In 2007, for the 400th anniversary of the German city of Mannheim, Carsten Nicolai and Ryuichi Sakamoto tackled the difficult task of developing an appropriate audio and visual performance to celebrate the event. Frankfurt’s Ensemble Modern - the only orchestral entity to ever satisfy the impossible technical demands of Frank Zappa – added their own brilliance to a concisely profound composition derived from Mannheim’s structural Rasterization, 72 minutes played on diverse levels of dynamic interaction and linear development. The result is presented in a luxury edition comprising a CD and a DVD, the latter featuring the entire live rendition of UTP_ (the name a contraption of “Utopia”) and a short movie documenting the progress of the collaboration. Also included are the graphic score and a booklet.

During the concert, Alva Noto’s imagery – mostly based on conflicting sinewaves in 3D in slowly morphing colors - is reproduced on a long LCD screen. It all starts with stillness just broken by splinters of notes in almost total obscurity, short flashes linked to selected beats of the main pulse. A growing tension is perceived, waiting for a flare-up that never materializes. A minimal melodic figuration introduces a Buddhist temple-like ceremonial atmosphere, blue lights gradually revealing the musicians’ shadow. Small noises, tiny echoes and fluid electronics define a couple of sections characterized by the absence of a real harmonic skeleton. The visuals behave accordingly, vivid points in a virtual plane of computerized calm waters. The intensity grows again, the noise increasing its supremacy. Marvelous clusters define a shift of the lighting to red and purple; there’s inner quietness in between these poignant chords, which represent one of the piece's highs, a perfect combination of stirring sound and eye-affecting metaphor. Sakamoto's pitches shine amidst nearly inert marimbas, then everything fades away until a series of solid surges appears in martial succession, the underlying static hiss a necessary balancing element. A solitary tone of looped Tibetan bowl defines another transition, a single red spot underlining the dissolution of this virtual oblivion in a cycle of intangible frequencies. A wonderful part begins at around 54', trembling strings and marimba fused with an essential beat, sparse touches of pizzicato violin and piano dewdrops materializing in blue and violet shades. The finale is equally impressive, slightly sturdier tones progressively flowing into near-nothingness, the instrumentalists wrapped by a blindingly white light before the inevitable fade to black.

Simply the best that I've heard (and seen) from this pair of silent geniuses. And if Sakamoto has always been in my heart since his impersonation of Captain Yonoi in Merry Christmas Mr.Lawrence, one also has to love that Lance Henriksen/Michael Schumacher hybrid that results from Nicolai's cold stare. (Raster-Noton)

May Pills

2010-05-31T11:03:00.000-07:00

MAHOGANY FROG – Do 5

Released in 2008 but received only a few weeks ago, this is the fifth album by a collective hailing from Winnipeg, Ontario, specializing in a peculiar brew of slightly experimental space rock and various other things, which sound rather familiar and easily digestible to these ears yet are concocted in somewhat weird fashion, which made me enjoy the trip quite a bit. The instrumentation, besides guitars, bass and drums, comprises lots of analog and, generally speaking, old-fashioned machines – Micromoog, Farfisa and so on - together with two trumpets. Picture a cross of Rush, Egg, Soft Machine circa Bundles and perhaps a morsel of Gong in medium nutty sauce and you’re less than halfway through understanding the type of music proposed by these guys. For sure they play very well: thorough instrumental expertise, the right quantity of fractured tempos, a general scent of ever-welcome progressiveness (I’m referring to the 70s, in case you didn’t get it), interesting ingenuity in the way of mixing the pieces, and a dose of ostentatiously corpulent harmonic progressions in some of the tracks that, preposterously enough, causes a bizarre kind of oily gratification. Excellent as headphone soundtrack while watching the world, or just a limited portion of your county, from a train. (Moonjune)

CRAQUE – Supple

Matt Davis is the man behind Craque, a training in classical composition and operatic performance enabling him to concoct a specimen of sharp-minded, mainly loop-based, soothingly bubbly music originating from diverse types of sonority including acoustic guitars, environmental repercussions, synthesized/sampled dissociations. The sonic designs are often pristinely straightforward, in a positive way: there aren’t excesses and/or surpluses, if not for some preventable over-fragmentation of the rhythmic pulse in a couple of instances. This lucidness is all the more remarkable as it is surrounded by a whimsical yet entrancing ambience of weirdly reverberating, high-quality electroacoustic protuberances, placing these tracks in the lands bordering with clever techno on one side and sampladelia on the other, with occasional hints (involuntary, methinks) to Muslimgauze as a plus. However, it’s the overall sense of order and precision that enriches the experience, which - in case someone’s still doubtful - is rewarding under several aspects. (Audiobulb)

BLUERMUTT - Uncertain Data Packed In Red Boxes

Young chap from Barcelona, utilizing computerized structures to concoct 34 minutes of engagingly charming sounds: a little pseudo-mercury here, a pinch of melodic minimalism there, gentle noises everywhere, and you're done. No pretence of probing who knows what inscrutable universes, just a series of easily assimilated processes that sound as surprising results of a game rather than actual compositions. I mean, typical blips and pulses appear more or less always yet, strangely enough, they don't get me annoyed as usual. In other occasions we would have deemed something like this as totally inadequate but a sort of candid ingenuousness is detectable in a number of parts of this work, which sweetens the soul of a callous reviewer after all. (Audiobulb)

LOUISE DAM ECKARDT JENSEN – You Look Like Your Mother, Would You Like More Sauce?

Danish alto saxophonist with a DIY attitude and a general sense of inventive dewiness that lets us appreciate the creativity and forget about eventual technical deficiencies. Published on Jessica Pavone's imprint ("Peacock" is the English translation of the violist's Italian family name, should anyone be dying to know), this CD comprises solo and multitracked pieces, occasionally with the addition of unevenly coarse vocal ingredients. What's to be best appreciated is Jensen's melodic mindset: lines that can alternatively sound extremely easy or get complicated enough - at times with a Bachian scent - without losing intelligibility. The "experimental" noisier parts are a little warts and all, but still genuinely funny (a case in point being "I Don't Like Rottweilers"). The lone doubts materialize when reflecting on the actual consistency of the alto's basic timbre, a tad too wheezy for my liking. One can't have everything though, therefore what remains is sitting peacefully on your couch and enjoying the wholesomeness of this petite rebel's musicality. (Peacock)

KIRCHENKAMPF – Dark Planet

John Gore’s Kirchenkampf alias delivers swathes of abstract sounds that might remorselessly be used in (admittedly first-class) sci-fi flicks and/or even sophisticated videogames, if always showing a distinctive personality. This time there’s a bit of diminished inscrutability in a fraction of the program, though, and occasionally the beauty of vast reverberation, the infinity of a drone and the intensity of the subsonic throbbing are not enough to counterbalance a sense of dice-throwing casualness, which make a couple of tracks sound a little less focused than usual. We’re left gazing at the unknown while waiting for something deeper, of which one only intuits the existence without an actual fulfillment. It is still an encouraging listen, unfamiliarly far away from ugly cheapness for sure. Yet I’m convinced that Gore can shift gears to a superior level. (Cohort)

TIM OLIVE – The Specialist

Is there anybody in need categorical definitions? If somebody answered “yes”, then they’d better stand well clear off Tim Olive's The Specialist. He doesn't wish to title his pieces to save our mind from preconceptions, uses an invented instrument made with a slab of wood with a couple of pickups on it, one or two bass strings attached (and maybe a dangling guitar string) and creates all kinds of garbled/strangled/rusted noises and sinister drones by the sheer use of a preamplifier and a few inches of metal on the magnets. You’re not going to reunite with the placid aspects of existence – that's for sure – and also won't be able to tap a foot following a conventional rhythm. Olive is interested in generating acrid textural shards that can be welcomed or hated, crunchy reminders of ruptured civilisations, mismanaged disloyalties and eruptions of inharmonious mushrooms in non-existent intimacy. Simplicity at the basis of imperturbability, noise as a means of socialization. Between you and your very selves. Furthermore, that one will get out psychologically improved by the experience is not guaranteed. (EM)

STORMHAT - Addicted To Disaster

Great title in which I recognize myself, especially relatively to recent years. Peter Bach Nicolaisen is a Danish artist who collected lots of easy-to-like yet fairly incisive sounds from what's mainly perceived as working places and metropolitan contexts. However, one seems to distinguish a Tibetan bell flavour somewhere, whereas spectacular thunders and heavy rain characterize "Ramt Af Lynet" amidst a plethora of processed and natural metallic resonances. Nicolaisen assembled the materials in structures constituted by lengthy loops and, in general, cyclical recurrences. He doesn’t leave excessive room for breathing or even thinking, but at the same time helps our imagination in its attempt of getting amalgamated with the circumstantial ambience intuited in the fraction of a moment. There’s a sense of musicality emerging from the clangour, which gives the six pieces a distinct compositional quintessence, thus separating this disc from the mass of low-budget button-pushers polluting the globe with horrendously useless tapes where the potentials of implicit harmony become instead a hymn to humdrum apathy. (Diophantine)

ANNE LAPLANTINE – A Little May Time Be

This French artist has previously released records under the names Angelika Köhlermann and Anne Hamburg. The CD, published in 2008, is a collection of miniatures, mostly instrumental, with particular focus on reasonably misshapen arrangements - halfway through King Crimson-tinged arpeggios and baroque polyphony – constructed upon polyphonic superimpositions of interlocking guitars. Occasionally the structure is more song oriented, cheap drum machines and electronics additional factors together with segments of pseudo-silence. A mix of minimalist naiveté and childish delicacy that sounds very nice for its large part, sporadically a little too simplistic for my taste but palatable overall. The patina of digital dirtiness and the peculiarly skewed quality of the tunes help placing the record miles away from obviousness. The not excessive duration is a plus, the humour is there (dig those hi-speed voices and deformed electronic protuberances). I can’t see traces of self-importance, either. All of the above amounts to a sufficiently congenial listen, if one’s not waiting for marvels. For sure we’re in presence of an original way of expressing uncomplicated concepts, which sometimes is fine enough with me. (Ahornfelder)

The Continuing Saga Of Clean Feed

2010-05-30T11:52:00.000-07:00

Selected picks from the ever-growing pile of recent and past releases from Clean Feed’s catalogue, with more to come in the next weeks.

BERNARDO SASSETTI TRIO – Motion

Bernardo Sassetti (piano), Carlos Barretto (bass), Alexander Frazão (drums). Classic Sassetti, you can’t go wrong with that. All but two compositions are by him, the opening and the closing tunes by, respectively, Linkous and Mompou. Some of the music was conceived for cinema and theatre, a specialization of this great artist. Difficult to remain confined in the ambit of critical reasoning when listening to the emotion-eliciting records that the Portuguese pianist delivers with impressive regularity. Emaciated linearity, melodic unambiguousness, memories now fading, now perfectly clear. A world of forgotten glories and smiling sadness, in which one breathes slowly while watching life unfold without a clue on how to change it. An indispensable interior geometry bathed in uniquely sober romanticism, never transcending to mellifluousness. Themes that recall a hundred influences yet always sound like deeply personal suggestions, which a open heart can take in and utilize for putting a finger on what looks unapproachable at first. Fluttering thoughts, sudden realizations, dissimulation of sorrow. A lesson on the essentials of introspective recollection, performed with uttermost class by three superb musicians.

CARLOS BICA + MATÉRIA-PRIMA – Carlos Bica + Matéria-Prima

Carlos Bica (double bass), Matthias Schriefl (trumpet, flugelhorn, melodica), João Paulo (piano, keyboards, accordion), Mário Delgado (electric guitar), João Lobo (drums, percussion). Ever since the very beginning – “D.C.”, namely almost ten minutes of a basic rock-blues vamp with rather ordinary playing from all members – your reviewer was awfully confounded, thinking of a sort of indecipherable homage to certain sonorities of the late 60s. It didn’t get any better: the whole album sounds as a collection of discarded soundtracks from 30-40 years ago, stuffed with easy-to-digest melodies, elementary arrangements, washed-out progressions, generally predictable solos. Everything extremely dated in a passionless exercise-like style: no emotion, no impulsiveness, nothing that managed to protract my curiosity for more than fifteen seconds. If there’s some irony disguised in this release, I really could not understand it. To this raconteur it is just desolately tiresome, veritably lacking a pulse, the lone exceptions being a nice enough track called “Roses For You” and the encore, an excellent cover of Ry Cooder’s “Paris, Texas”. Dulcis in fundo indeed - but the large quantity of preceding monotony is too much to overcome with that only.

AVRAM FEFER – Ritual

Avram Fefer (alto, tenor & soprano sax, bass clarinet), Eric Revis (bass), Chad Taylor (drums). The utter loathsomeness afflicting the stereotyped music played by a large chunk of trios is mostly forgotten in Ritual, not a revolution but a sincere, honest album for sure. An open minded group working halfway through cognizant dynamism and regulated liberation without forgetting the basics of classic jazz. Starting from straightforward elements such as an African rhythm, a rudimentary melodic figuration or a contemplative theme, the three become involved and almost tangled in zealous interpretations of a rather modern literature, upon which Fefer moves with a good degree of fervor, a desire of “letting people in” and the full consciousness of the space around his phrases, which he inhabits placidly enough, minus any kind of coercion towards the audience. Excellent work from Revis and Taylor, who challenge the commonly intended concept of foundation to add their own breakthroughs, thus contributing to elevate the overall intensity – and, ultimately, the interplay’s strength - to higher levels.

DENNIS GONZÁLEZ / JOÃO PAULO – Scapegrace

Duets for piano (Paulo) and Bb cornet plus C trumpet (González). I only see a minor problem in an otherwise perfectly fine CD, namely its unnecessarily stretched duration at over 72 minutes. In consideration of the homogeneity of such a kind of instrumental tête-à-tête, which more or less revolves around the same factors (especially on a timbral level), one could have kept the whole under 50’, thus avoiding the risk of experiencing a smidgen of weariness at the end with what’s instead admirably played music, often poetic, even mathematically challenging at times, always informed by the right balance between discerning insight and top-rank methodological mastery. The couple, as per González’ account in the liners, spent quality time at the pianist’s home on a hill that dominates Lisbon. This confidence is perceivable all the way through, the musicians reciprocally responding to invitations and implications with delicacy and acumen, ultimately letting us forget about mere (and cold) technical issues thanks to a clear ability in catching resonating essences from the very air that surrounds them.

LUIS LOPES / ADAM LANE / IGAL FONI – What Is When

Guitar, double bass and drums, following the artist’s names order. Lopes thinks intensely to Sonny Sharrock (the dedicatee of the initial track “Evolution Motive” together with Charles Darwin) but also winks to early John Scofield, jarring angularity and a substantial dose of edginess still prevailing on the mass-approved tolerability of a fusion-tinged bluesy style. He’s a rather abstemious soloist after all, paying special attention to the correct placement of notes, not exactly longing for the sanitization of his sullied tone, which is a good thing in terms of originality. Lane offers a great performance throughout, the foremost traits being an overdriven bark containing the multi-purpose password for an actual crossing of genres and a grimily involving, arco-generated drone particularly manifest in the nearly elegiac “Cerejeiras” and in the closing solo “Perched Upon An Electric Wire”. Israel’s Foni is a surprise, at least to this writer who met him here for the first time. Freely flowing yet adult, constantly conscious about the place to be at every juncture, present at the right moment to unchain the bolder handiwork. A responsive companion for Lopes and Lane’s swapping of blows, a propulsive activity that never deteriorates.

Multiple Hemingways

2010-05-19T12:10:00.000-07:00

Composer, improviser, percussionist, educator, sensitive musician. I couldn’t say what definition of Gerry Hemingway is preferable. Open your ears and listen: the following ones are three great records - Tom And Gerry’s in particular.

GERRY HEMINGWAY QUINTET – Demon Chaser

Second edition of this assortment of recordings from a 1993 set at Ottenbrucher Banhof, Wuppertal-Elberfeld (Germany). The super group – this time it is really necessary to call it so – walks around a series of idioms with unimpeachable command informed by a temperament that stands halfway grotesquely ironic and utterly uncontaminated. The melodic awkwardness of “Slamadam” is followed by a baffling eradication of pedestrian routines from “A Night In Tunisia”, a great Ernst Reijseger soaring through innumerable multiplications of phrase fragments and instant escapades, before the whole flows into what could almost be called “free jazz rock”, trombonist Wolter Wierbos unafraid of revealing a tendency to masochistic impossibilities during his solo spots. “Buoys” is perhaps the most fascinating piece on offer, a brooding cross of chamber strings (Reijseger and Mark Dresser working wonders here) and softly talkative trombone that moves across suspenseful chiaroscuros. Wierbos and clarinettist Michael Moore exchange darts of psychic preposterousness over an incessant cello riff in “Holler Up”, whereas the leader puts the title track in eternal reiteration via circular rolling patterns needed as pretext for the rest of the gang to assemble an omnium-gatherum of glissando absurdity, frolicsome counterpoints, son-of-Lachenmann raindrops and Ayler-meet-Harth sax squeals. The finale is the fabulously swinging “More Struttin’ With Mutton”, its jokey theme sticking in the memory forever; but the bass clarinet and cello solos are also impressive, just like the entirety of Hemingway’s arrangements. (HatOLOGY)

JOHN BUTCHER / GERRY HEMINGWAY – Buffalo Pearl

JB on tenor and soprano sax, GH – besides drums and percussion – also using voice and sampler. The album was released in 2008, and it’s mostly excellent. In “Light Queen”, the dialogue is distinguished by an abundance of breathing room, revealing an enthusiastic aspiration to the reciprocal understanding of what the partner is expressing in order to complement the creative splinters in the best possible way. Butcher remains in the percussive side of the palette for the largest portion of the improvisation which, in general, is soft and sharp, incisively logical throughout. “Head Nickel” is a technically superior binge (pardon the definition), the saxophone as the vehicle for a strapping reverie, while “McGeist” explores the insides of the improvisational nucleus both in terms of timbre and dynamics, aggregating and disassembling parts in the space of thirty seconds. The musicians, here like everywhere else, seem to descend from the main genus of probing discordance (which is what renders the music quite piquant, thanks in part to Hemingway’s use of amusingly goofy electronic sounds). Successive sections are definable as sparingly tranquil, when not plain lyrical (if one can call Butcher’s multi-pitch intrepidness so). “No Illusion” is a mini-symphony of abraded metal and multiphonic torment that doesn’t offer a single point of orientation. The conclusive “The Good Neighbor” lets the drummer shine in no-ordinary-rhythm-if-you-pay-me uncontrollability as his actual neighbor overwhelms us with a special kind of philanthropic aggression characterized by a gazillion of all kinds of notes; it would take a week to brush them off the ground after the sparkles have ended. (Auricle)

TOM & GERRY – Kinetics

Where “Tom” is Thomas Lehn, as a matter of course on analogue synthesizer. We’re advised of listening on “high-quality audio equipment, preferably at a high volume”, but the music is so gorgeous that any decent setting should be sufficient to let us delight in the engrossingly lively shifts and diversified articulations that the duo generates. “Patina” is a cross of spacey pulse and liquefying clairvoyance typified by intelligent restraint, which prepares the listener to the innumerable timbral varieties that will follow, just like a ceremony’s preamble. The short “Verdigris” verges on the somewhat harsher characteristics of the instruments, privileging sharper frequencies in a partial disentanglement from the innermost vibration. “Mould” is maybe the first episode in which the sonic total transcends the basic musical concept, thus connecting to different kinds of reality: discerning touches, dynamic analyses aimed to a rational sharing of the reverberant surroundings, puzzling juxtapositions doing their best to prevent the audience from recognizing who plays what. The piece is splendid indeed, an exercise in self-discipline which leaves mystified – and wanting more. “Bozzetto” is a brief intermission of hissing micro-discharges and sputtering rudiments, directly throwing in the 32 minutes of “Maquette”, the record’s closure. It starts with a sensible emancipation from the commonly deduced notion of rhythm (please be aware that everything in the universe possesses its own beat - however, it’s too difficult to decode and set in sheer mathematical rationalization for a man’s delusional inanity to grasp it). Soon thereafter, the artists protract the journey through countless constellations of isolation, the only goal being “annihilation of sameness”. The exchange is wholeheartedly impressive, two instrumental sources enough to exhale fumes of interior knowledge while keeping an eye on what happens in the concreteness department, outstandingly perceptive drumming and insightful exploration of the synthetic realms totally corresponding in enlivening impetus. After long moments of (don’t laugh) cosmic expectation, the finale sees Lehn and Hemingway finally liberated, exchanging harder and harder blows to the head and body until exhaustion, probably the lone moment of actual lack of restrictions in the whole disc. Which - in case you didn’t get it yet - is a work of art that, to my understanding, has gone fairly unnoticed to date. Let’s go and change the trend. (Auricle)

Szilárd Mezei (And A Personal Digression On Magyarország)

2010-05-16T07:12:00.000-07:00

An increasingly reinforced secret bond exists since childhood between your purple prose etcher and Hungary. As a matter of fact, to this day my darling cartoon is the fabulous Gusztáv, aka Gustavus, produced in the 60s by Hungarofilm and aired by RAI - our national television network - in the early 70s. Never heard of him? You have not lived yet: check some of the episodes on YouTube (admittedly, the animations could be a little too satirically sophisticated for those who grew up impersonating Marvel superheroes and the likes). The main theme and all the soundtracks – which used to include absurdist blasts of reeds and brass, warped utterances, manipulated tapes and even hints to free jazz - are part of my DNA. Honest. Imagine a Hungarian Spike Jones and you’ll get the picture. Then again, I’ve always been deeply intrigued by the written appearance of that language, which pronounced in Italian gives birth to very funny situations. Repeating the name of a border city called Tatabánya as a mantra when I was an insignificant slant-toothed kid constituted a favourite activity of mine for a while (OK, Steve Reich’s It’s Gonna Rain and Come Out were already there). Ah, the mysteries of bizarre cerebral behaviour.
Anyway, let’s not drift off the point. A Serbian composer with rock-solid Magyar roots who has steadily amassed a sizeable quantity of noteworthy releases but is still relatively unsung, Mr. Mezei sent these four beauties (köszönöm szépen, Szilárd). Follow the links to find them, listen for yourselves, then send me a thankful note via email; there’s gorgeous music to be found herein. Uncompromising musicians who can actually play an instrument. Once upon a time they really existed - just like intelligent TV or, if so preferred, an alternative to a miserable humanity nourished by fake tits and equally counterfeit news.

SZILÁRD MEZEI – Mint Amikor Tavasz

Mint Amikor Tavasz, which means something like “As When The Spring”, is an outstanding collection of solos for viola and double bass, exploring a wide scope of techniques and moods. Perhaps the uppermost quality in Mezei's improvising style is his facility in transforming a purely imaginative gesture into statements gifted with an inherent rational scheme, rendered even more intriguing by an innate ability of picking up quarter tones, small noises and ultra-piercing harmonics and synthesizing them in omni-comprehensive assertions. Erudition and freedom proceed in parallel outbursts, the sheer pleasure of listening to an awesomely good technique rewarding the concentration that must necessarily be employed for an extensive stretch of time (the CD lasts in fact over 76 minutes). Thematic designs whose constitution ranges from gently melancholic to totally excoriating, each piece living a life of its own without a bastardization of meanings, yet all part of a gratifying entirety. Hints to a forthright impulsiveness balanced by the attention to minuscule details, the whole giving the idea of a problematic transition to superior states of being that for sure will be reached, at last. The lingering suggestion is one of brightness, fleet-footed intensity and dramatic awareness at the basis of a splendid album which deserves repeated spins. (Not Two)

MEZEI SZILÁRD TRIO – A Kölyökkutya Reszketése

The title - extremely tricky to pronounce (for me, at least) - translates as “Trembling Of The Puppy”. A very poetic definition for a kind of music that, again, meshes dissimilar atmospheres and references, ranging from Hungarian folksong (the initial, splendid “Tánc – Rossz Asszony” and “Patak”, the latter’s mournful melody masterfully delivered in sensitive counterpoint by Mezei and Slovakian double bassist Ervin Malina) to swinging peculiarity bathed in a jazzy vibe (“Sün”). The appearance of some of these tracks is deceivingly sweet-toned, alluring to the point of letting us abandon our defensive stance. It’s there that the trio’s mental and propulsive dynamism – facilitated by Csík Istvan’s sensible drumming – stings when less expected, allowing Mezei’s preciseness and biting earnestness to exalt the undressed beauty of his phrasing in literal transliterations of different conditions of the mind, most of them apparently bordering on bitter sadness. The absolute lack of impertinence characterizing the CD is particularly evident in the tight-fisted soberness of the title track and in the subsequent “Bukluk”, whose recalcitrance to obey the common rules of jazz idiom results in a rather strident mix of implacable swing and slippery lanky dissonance. A difficult record that starts to remunerate only after a good number of attentive stabs. (Győrfree – Harmonia)

SZILÁRD MEZEI TRIO – Bármikor, Most / Anytime, Now

This is the most richly variegated CD in the pair of trio recordings examined here (the musicians are identical as in A Kölyökkutya Reszketése ), as demonstrated by the very first track “Induló”, based on an ear-catching riff that carries the weight of the whole tune for over six minutes. “Lynx” is designed as an atonal rhythmic exercise upon which Mezei plays a somewhat robotic pizzicato and Malina abates the percentage of uniformity through a cross of robust pluck and arco growl that sound mysterious and thought-provoking at one and the same time. “Most Nem” is pretty minimally structured as far as the basic pulse is concerned, and a vehicle for the protagonist to depict intoxicating Eastern figurations permeated by a regretful aura, which is usually what elevates his solos to states of grace infused with the sense of oppression seemingly deriving from daily struggles (and who knows what else). The lengthy “Hep 3” is a challenging combination of laborious metrical peregrinations (sure enough, István Csík is more than capable of managing a drum set when the going gets tough), angular phrases and antagonistic improvisation. Yet there’s still room for reflection, as shown by the skeletally charming theme and philosophically detached viola solo of “Te Beszélsz, Én Elalszok” (“You Speak, I Fall Asleep” – lovely title) The entire album is a fine exemplification of the proportionality between lack of bell-and-whistle trickery and abundance of meaningful insight that Mezei’s music constantly proposes. Consistently great stuff. (Not Two)

MEZEI SZILÁRD / ERVIN MALINA – Füzet / Zošit

Extraordinary album of duets for viola and double bass that every serious appraiser of contemporary opuses for strings should try and secure a copy of. There’s just everything that needs to exist in such a kind of artistic report. The poignancy of the initial “Szépen Veri Az Eső A Virágot” is a well-visible building block amidst the rule-infringing incorruptibility demonstrated by these superb players throughout the program, with particular reference to the six episodes of the title track which alternates gypsy meditation and furious thunder-and-lightning improvisation of the finest cloth, the acme reached in the sixth chapter which is, plain and simple, a work of genius. The flummoxing amalgamations of instant outbreaks, hardly classifiable oscillating pitches and stern elucidations of pre-conceived themes (one on top of all, the heartrending elegy of “Huzatos Huzat”, which could represent an East-European paraphrasing of “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat”) finally fuses in the sort of profoundness that goes beyond the mere analysis of a piece or of the constitution of a timbre. Two great instrumentalists, unafraid of attempting the implausible and (merely hypothetically) tumbling, these men successfully point toward unsteady paths that not many people can expect to tread without hurting themselves or, at the very least, losing focus. However, don’t be intimidated by the difficulty of this unadulterated, irreproachable acoustic vision. Get influenced by the most striking specimen of dissonant poetry, magnificently tempered by the stirring finale “Szivaroztam, Elégettem A Számat” – another marvelous Hungarian folk tune replete with fractional-pitch painfulness. I find myself chuckling cynically, yet again, when pondering on the ignorance (and absolute lack of ear) of those impeded entities - self-proclaiming “musicians” - who still think that it only takes “seven notes” to create music. Will they ever shut up and learn, for once in a lifetime? (Győrfree)

Another Timbre’s Weekend Quartet

2010-05-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

That’s right, I spent both Saturday and Sunday submerged by the sounds emitted by these four CDs. Thanks as always to Simon Reynell for promoting, releasing and sending out some of the best improvised music on the market. While I’m writing this article, more recordings have already been published from this great imprint. Needless to say, they will be featured in future reviews

WADE MATTHEWS / STÉPHANE RIVES – Arethusa

A fine amalgamation of software-generated synthetic sounds, treated field recordings and soprano saxophone that spells out its legitimacy over four tracks, each different in terms of sonority and, at the very least, engaging when not veritably transfixing. Such is the case of the opening segment, a painstaking vacillation of elevated pitches - some of them pretty smooth, other uneven – that initiates a series of natural glissandos and shrilling adjacencies whose near-incandescent vibrancy is essential for a thorough purging of the auricular conduits. The second track is adequate if a little more normal, rolling percussiveness of the wooden kind and stinging whistle mixing in various degrees of cohesiveness. Not groundbreaking, but nice. The third subdivision increases the distance between the events, also extending the brain’s faculty of anticipating a sonic occurrence while still remaining astounded by the glory of selected sudden appearances. It happens with imposingly resounding bumps and pulses, in turn eliciting subsonic ramifications amidst solid materials caressed by Rives’ extemporaneous sibilance, mystifying harmonics, bumblebee buzzes and aborted honks. A ceremonial aura permeates this section, intermittently turning it into a quasi-paranormal experience. The record is ended by a piece juxtaposing severe upper partials and whispered talking, the whole surrounded by less decipherable manifestations, grainy hissing and sub-quaking drones. I could have done without the vocal constituent; however, this remains a completely fitting conclusion for a frequently magnetizing release.

LUCIO CAPECE / LEE PATTERSON – Empty Matter

Capece plays soprano sax, bass clarinet, preparations and sruti box (featured in a delightful drone piece called “Sostener”, one of my favourites), while Patterson is active on CD players, pickups, eBowed springrods, springplate and hazelnuts. The duo is endowed with a considerable percentage of mutual receptiveness, a factor that often transforms even the most ordinary occurrences into dazzling sounds. The harmonic substance of a single pitch can become, pertinently magnified, an ascetic choral hymn. The coincidence of frying pan activity, reiterated notes and unpromisingly vague rattling heard in “Fervesce” is outright splendid, among the disc’s top episodes, immediately followed by the affecting thickness of “Ventilar”, an improvisation that exploits the junction of echoing metals and squealing insinuations (the latter made me look out of the window twice to see if cats were doing damage somewhere in the garden). Underscoring the activities, the steady throbbing of a low-frequency underworld keeps us prepared for a display of power that instead remains merely hinted, unexpressed. Persistently acute intrusive emissions by Capece attempt to limit a latent tendency to needless lavishness (with all that menacing jangling, you never know), confining the interaction in face-to-face dialogues between regal roar and gritty roughness. In “Coriolis”, old-fashioned, but still efficient percussive patterns are supplemented by the intrinsic features of their original source, giving life to dissentient trance tarnished by rust, symbolizing a routine that is both physical and rational yet, somehow, lets the victims get a glimpse of non-illusory methods for escaping.

THE SEALED KNOT – And We Disappear

Music performed by Burkhard Beins (percussion, objects), Rhodri Davies (pedal harp, eBow) and Mark Wastell (double bass, bow and beaters). The immediate feeling, as we’re listening to the splendidly rich pounding with which this single 38-minute improvisation begins, is that Wastell has replaced the sepulchral nature of the beloved tam-tam by taking advantage of the analogous qualities of the bass which - aptly stimulated via arco (... and beaters?) - enhances our will of comparing those stifled hits to sounds that might directly be connected to the vibrational/irrational essence of perception. The most in-your-face aspects of this set are probably represented by the myriads of overlapping cells engendered by Beins through his click-and-scrape abrasive artillery, with which he produces sheer ruggedness, static groundings or lopsided patterns. Davies stands behind glowingly terse materializations of an otherwise uncatchable evanescence, putting the unlimited duration of the bowed pitches at the service of the inherent concept while keeping an eye on an unfathomable harmony, only expressible by musicians in perpetual state of alertness. The paths followed by The Sealed Knot are completely visible, not hiding secrets or dangers, yet one constantly experiences a sense of ignorant frustration, a “there’s much more than this” belief emphasizing their rigorous instrumental interrelation. Obvious disparities turn into a marvellously harmonious corporeality, outward-looking intuitions leading us to a zone where details, names and sources don’t matter anymore. All we need is closing the eyes and welcoming the sublimation, ultimately lulled by a massive synthesis of auspiciously beneficial symptoms. The conclusive rarefaction – three men pushing gestural nakedness at the forefront in a parallel exhibition of dynamic control, before raising the intensity level for the very last time – is a virtual fusion of the inexistent extremities of an endless cycle.

LORIS – The Cat From Cat Hill

Patrick Farmer, Sarah Hughes and Daniel Jones share an interesting timbral palette that, in addition to recognized colours and devices (the omnipresent eBow, tapes, piano, turntable and electronics) reveals items that I couldn’t accurately envisage – what is a “chorded zither”? – and a couple of semi-biological sources (“wood”, “natural objects”). Even more attractive to these ears is the aural outcome, to the point that there’s a good possibility, as of now, that The Cat From Cat Hill might represent my pick if someone forced me to choose a single title in this batch of gorgeously nonconforming albums. This music gathers all incidents under an umbrella of worried reflection, mixing rustling/liquid noises, humming power, vinyl-related imperfections, remote human activity and a discrete scent of solitude. Picture an August afternoon spent standing in front of a solitary industrial plant and trying to identify its mechanically generated voices rather than getting compulsorily tanned on a beach together with thousands of other unlucky individuals. Barely noticeable details become, as the time slips away, cardinal elements of important transitions between dull materiality and painful transcendence; the sense of estrangement from the surrounding reality is enhanced by our concentration on the repetitive quality of a passage, before being instantly awakened by analytical juxtapositions achieving the maximum extent of psychosomatic impact thanks to their uncongested heteromorphy. As the trio manages to combine motorized and organic, stasis and progression, composure and anguish – suddenly opening things up with magnificent rays of hope, as it happens around the tenth minute in “Sophie” – we’re appreciative of being a part of the course of action, mere observers of this strange world of domesticated interference and influential signals.

Want Some Spekk?

2010-05-04T01:56:00.000-07:00

Namely, Nao Sugimoto’s excellent label, which deals with minimal electronica, nonfigurative improvisation and various kinds of drone-related materials with class and intelligence. Besides these two CDs, grab a copy of the gorgeous An Angel Fell Where The Kestrels Hover by Peter Wright, reviewed here.

DIRAC – Emphasis

Although Austrian trio Dirac (Peter Kutin, Daniel Lercher and Florian Kindlinger) describe their sound as “chamber music of the 21st century”, laptops represent the fundament of the electroacoustic concoction presented in Emphasis. On a superficial approach there is nothing extraordinary in this record, principally constructed upon the rarefaction of the constituents (typical ones: melancholic piano chords, subtle electronics, well-chosen samples and field recordings, uncomplicated melodic fragments). However, give it a more conscientious listen and a few precious drops of beauty will start to appear. Pale luminescence, elusive instrumental touches whose echo lingers on softly, a mood permeated by an introspective kind of looking back that develops into faintly substantial aural matter as soon as certain thoughts are evoked. It becomes, occasionally, a dolefully harmonious type of experience, in the middle of a road linking a far-flung past and the insecurity arising from the intuition of bleak periods to come. Don’t be surprised if mental haze starts materializing during the most soothing segments (the conclusive “A Rest In Tension” my favourite chapter in that sense). Definitely not a groundbreaking release, yet also not completely derivative, a weak body revealing traits that may seduce, and not only for a short adventure. It works very efficiently even at “whispered installation” volume, but you have to be aware of its buried details first.

TETUZI AKIYAMA + TOSHIMARU NAKAMURA – Semi-Impressionism

Acoustic guitar and no-input mixing board, as expected. What I didn’t anticipate was the extreme degree of contemplative plainness which the record would introduce without necessarily hinting to classic EAI (that’s right, we’ve already arrived at the “classic” status for a pretty recent genre). Listening to Semi-Impressionism for the first time in a quietly sunny festive morning, the only sound coming from the outside (as it recurrently happens around here) was that of singing birds, which complemented this delicate conversation quite wonderfully. “Delicate”, yes. Because Nakamura might still be able of surprising with the most unrepentant stabs of feedback, hurtful hiss and warping distortion – it does occur many times indeed – yet all he brings out of that machine makes absolute sense, intersecting with Akiyama’s sparse statements as a perfectly matching component. And, of course, it’s not solely noise. When the ears manage to adjust to the same carrier wave of certain frequencies, sounds that do exist while not being readily available for verbal illustration, one realizes about the veritable miracles that the brain performs when subjected to codes that are theoretically reserved to the (much more evolved) hearing of animals who, I’m sure, can individuate hundreds of additional meanings in what we identify as merely “acute”. It remains to be said of Akiyama’s style in this circumstance, kind of an unclothed blues – a detachedly slow jargon made of single sparkling pitches, two strings plucked together at worst – whose immediate unambiguousness and serene lucidity, in turn revealing instantly measurable profundity, should give a few instructions to the hordes of adorers of, say, Loren Connors, the latter’s supposedly touching – but frequently plain boring – overly bent notes failing to achieve the state of brooding level-headedness reached by the Japanese guitarist in this almost perfect album.

A New ESP Jamboree, At Last

2010-04-28T21:20:00.000-07:00

Did I promise “no more roundups” a few weeks ago? Never mind. As boxing promoter Bob Arum once said, “yesterday I was lying, today I’m telling the truth”. Here’s a partial catchup with this label’s output (I’d like to do the same with several others that keep sending packets with ten CDs inside every two months or so... I’ll be back soon, Pedro Costa, Ernesto Rodrigues and Leo Feigin…).

TALIBAM! – Boogie In The Breeze Blocks

Matthew Mottel, Kevin Shea and their unwise friends (which include, among a horde of others, Moppa Elliott, Peter Evans, Chris Forsyth and Jon Irabagon) provide us with a new dispatch, jam-packed with enlivening playing, passionately deviant singing and lots (too many, I believe) of spoken interludes, the sum total making this album comparable to a unhinged TV movie characterized with incessant (and often superfluous) changes of scene. The problem is that, after only a couple of listens, everything sounds pervaded by a sense of “predictable craziness”. Right - the music is indeed humorously sarcastic, performed with the same convulsive impulses of someone who’s being subjected to electroshock. Yet there’s almost nothing that people like Captain Beefheart, The Mothers Of Invention or even The Tubes (outrageously underappreciated, if you ask me) didn’t explore - decades ago. Heavy riffs, peculiar phone calls, socio/sexual hints, fake Latin rhythms, ways of using the voice. It is still entertaining stuff, but sometimes it takes more than just fun and instrumental paroxysm to satisfy a demanding listener and this time – rave reviews notwithstanding, with several Italian “critics” literally smearing honey on the guys – your croaking toad in the hole is not so flabbergasted. Two things remain in mind: a track title – “Jim O’ Rourke” – and the lovely female vocal harmonization (amidst twittering birds) one minute into “Nike Rim Johb”. The rest has already been filed in the “Yeah, OK – what’s next?” archive.

GATO BARBIERI – In Search Of The Mystery

Am I being irreligious if this tremendous album gets somehow compared to John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme by my perfidious mind? Wait before sending me packing off: I’m talking about commitment here. Of course there’s not an actual sonic correspondence between the records, yet the prayers and subsequent swearing flames that Gato Barbieri throws in the direction of who-knows-what gods are gifted with righteousness and mysterious transcendental force matching that milestone’s might. In Search Of The Mystery – recorded in 1967 and featuring the leader on tenor saxophone aided by Calo Scott (cello), Sirone (bass) and Bobby Kapp (drums) – deserves to be considered a classic, no ifs and buts. The music is permeated with explicitness and determination, though chock full of virtuosity, and the contribution that each musician brings is invaluable. Barbieri oscillates from strenuous questioning to unadulterated ferocity, often blowing his lungs out to fight homogeny. A tone that expresses both the maladjustment to the idea of an appalling reality and the inner confidence in better times to come. Sirone and Scott share an interest for unadorned purposefulness, pushing themselves into regions that, most probably, their instruments’ inventors had by no means envisioned. The fomentation of an incandescent autonomy is equivalent to the desire of endangering musical staleness, and indeed not a moment is found in which the couple plays less than heartily, but never losing focus on the reciprocal connection. Kapp is as confident and responsive as a rhythmic propeller can be, highlighting the comrades’ pursuit of superior principles and, at the same time, symbolizing – even in a solo spot on “Obsession No.2” - a self-government that appears irremediably lost in today’s corporate jazz. Sum all these factors and what you have is a landmark recording, a genuine must.

SUN RA – Featuring Pharoah Sanders & Black Harold

More appealing for its documentary value than for the actual level of the performance, this record comprises a set recorded at 1964’s Four Days In December festival at New York’s Judson Hall, and includes previously unreleased material that, at 45 minutes total, constitutes the bulk of the program. The oddity, if we can say so, lies in the presence of Sanders in lieu of John Gilmore; the eruptive traits of the saxophonist’s edgy technical dexterity are evident throughout and better audible in the mix, as opposed to certain instrumental components whose details are often lost in untidy heaps. Black Harold (Murray), Al Evans, Marshall Allen, Teddy Nance, Pat Patrick, Alan Silva, Ronnie Boykins, Cliff Jarvis, Jimmhi Johnson and Art Jenkins constitute the rest of the band. The spurts of activity characterizing the performance’s most interesting sections give an idea of creative discontinuity, our attention captured by a few extemporaneous curiosities (such as Murray’s rampant flute soloing in “The Voice Of Pan”) or completely deflated by an unbearable 15-minute drum solo (“The Other World”). When Ra enters the scene with typically raw-boned clusters and skewed repetitions (“The World Shadow”), the aerials instantly go up as genius is genius, no matter the context. The set’s highest moment in that sense is represented by “The Now Tomorrow”, which begins with a superb pianistic progression then leaves room to implausible colloquies between arco bass and reeds, the interconnection of the single parts generating a complex dissonant tapestry - a veritable joy for the ears - until the leader goes for the jugular in a fittingly convulsive monologue. This track alone makes owning the entire disc worthwhile, although there are surely finer recordings to start from if one wants to dip a toe in Ra’s characteristically perplexing music.

REVOLUTIONARY ENSEMBLE – Vietnam

I would have loved to write sensible words to depict the strength of this material, performed by Jerome Cooper (percussion), Sirone (bass) and Leroy Jenkins (violin). But I can’t overcome the disappointment deriving from the fact that the CD has been made by copying a vinyl album plagued by a serious case of off-centre spinning, which ultimately renders the experience – in particular during the program’s second half – nearly ridiculous, a study in the slow oscillation of pitches and Doppler-affected drums rather than an earnest assertion of free expression. Weren’t there other available copies of the LP, or alternative methods to perform a more accurate job? Is it possible that nobody at ESP realized about the absurdity of this situation before releasing the item? Are people (listeners and, especially, reviewers) really paying attention to the stuff they receive? Musically speaking, the enlightened eloquence that one intuits beyond the annoyance is actually present, the interplay’s concentration of energy, virtuosity and acoustic mordancy almost corporeal. This is surely great - but only if listened in the original conception, not warped by deformed plastic substances. I’m hoping for an immediate re-reissue, possibly from a consistent source. If that’s not obtainable, the music is better left in the memory instead of diminishing its momentum because of technical failures.

ERICA POMERANCE – You Used To Think

Picture a stoned Joanna Newsom and you’ll get a vague idea of Erica Pomerance’s curious vocal timbre. This collection of songs – make that “cost-effective fluxes of consciousness” – was recorded in 1968 and, despite my craving of stupid things like, say, the accurate tuning of an instrument (something that’s desperately missing in the large part of these tracks), there are episodes in You Used To Think that I managed to actually appreciate in their legitimate will to communicate feelings that, one supposes, were coming from the inside of a woman who looked attentively to certain social and political instances of the era she was living in. Having this writer been completely unaware, until now, of Pomerance’s art (in pills: a Canadian film maker, poet and songwriter), mine was a weird meeting with a group of acoustic guitar strummers (aided, in different combinations, by piano, bass, percussion, sax, sitar and flutes) accompanying someone whose main method of expression stands halfway through a series of ranting visions and the urge of telling people about personal ideals, mainly articulated via drug-enhanced daydreaming. The general sense of scarce intonation seriously hinders the enjoyment of an otherwise strangely captivating record. Forgive me, I’m just a judiciously compulsive perfectionist who doesn’t indulge in smoking pot.

CHARLES TYLER ENSEMBLE – Charles Tyler Ensemble

Now that’s what I call a crucial jazz album. Succinctly jagged, violent to a precise extent, dissonantly tender sometimes, intricate but exceptionally logical in all of its components. In a word, energizing. I was even more attracted by Tyler’s shadowy portrait on the cover photo, which instantly gives the sense of finding ourselves in front of true earnestness. The leader – typically a baritone user during his time with Albert Ayler – is here featured exclusively on alto; there is no prolixity in the incessant chase of metaphysical designs, just the measureless strength that characterizes every man who owns the rare gift of having something concrete to say, and the technical and spiritual qualities to do this without sounding ridiculous. The only comparison that this ignorant chronicler managed to locate in the memory is Peter Brötzmann, and we’re again referring to guts rather than tone. Joel Friedman’s cello is a magnificent answer to the many questions that the music poses, immune as it is to sickly syrupiness and ready to flummox the listener through a matchless wildcat clairvoyance at the due moment. Henry Grimes’ bass rumbles massively in the lower regions, Ronald Jackson seems to refer to fractals to unbutton unmannerly patterns and whipping rolls, furnishing the interplay with exciting fervour. Charles Moffett’s vibes (in truth, emerging like a toy xylophone in the mix) are maybe the weakest component in the overall palette, yet their twinkling presence in this heavyweight line-up appears coherent once you get used to that brittle nuance. After four listens in 12 hours, and a practical impossibility of memorizing anything bar the soul, one seriously thinks “clandestine masterwork”.

JOE MORRIS – Colorfield

A three-way superimposition of sturdy personalities, giving life to fifty minutes of sharply developed composite interplay which Morris accurately calls Free Music (not jazz), describing the procedure as “playing melodies along with the other players pure and simple”. The eminence of Colorfield – the title inspired by the namesake school of painting – lies in the absolute clearness of the single parts; we can enjoy the record as a whole canvas of vibrant concurrences, or just follow the distinct instrumental voices as they make consistently stimulating statements public. The lone “harmonic medium” in this bassless trio is pianist Steve Lantner, whose superlative combination of nervy articulation and unperturbed discretion lets the music shape itself around lots of diverse meanings, inexorably anchored to significant rationality. Luther Gray is an extremely sagacious percussionist, one of those characters for which the drum set is not a mere pretext for banging and splashing but a proper collection of nuances in which pizzazz, caressing accompaniment and virtuoso projections of the inner ear are analogously essential in defining a shared vision. Morris’ clean-toned complex knots and (sporadically) simpler phrases glisten throughout, symbols of a lucidity that allows the man to avoid scalar blatancy and pedestrian licks, looking for the dissonant-yet-transparent enunciation of a new terminology for an instrument that, in different hands, all too often becomes a vehicle for miserable triviality. There are no “right” or “wrong” notes in his style, only the continuous seeking of methods for becoming impervious to routine.

TIMOTHY LEARY – Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out

Here’s your correspondent, geared up to launch another invective on the utter disliking of drugs and lack of any trust whatsoever in users. Yeah, right: Timothy Leary and the “beneficial” achievements deriving from the consumption of psychotropic substances: burnt brain cells, shattered memory, musicians losing the sense of rhythm. And this is only the “nice” side of a shady issue. You should know how it goes, despite what official history says about certain “heroes” of the 60s. A walk through selected urban surroundings is all it takes to understand the level people crumble down to following that kind of “seeking”. So I put the CD in my Discman and started taking note. That calm, quiet, monotone pitch dragging around rationalizations of many fascinating phenomena besides the effects of acid, which initially captured my attention (seriously). After a while, the effect was exactly the same of a tranquilizing pill. I was gradually brought to a sort of conscious sleep, and felt comfortable. The words didn’t matter anymore: alone with Leary’s sluggish delivery, one feels like enjoying a sample of early minimalism. Alvin Lucier’s I’m Sitting In A Room is not that distant from the acoustic exterior of this somewhat hypnotic dissertation. That’s a secret for not getting bored with spoken word: forget what’s said – listen to the sound. In this particular case it works excellently, probably because the consequences of 311 trips (a figure given by the doctor himself during the “lecture”) had already done a tabula rasa of any residue of dynamic energy in his accent. As far as alteration and/or expansion of consciousness are concerned, much better results are achieved by subjecting oneself to Phill Niblock or Roland Kayn’s music rather than snorting or swallowing shit. Then again, everybody can get their mind wasted as they wish, as long as a safe distance is kept from this non-expanded writer, thoroughly allergic to drug-fuelled deviousness.

Late April Medley

2010-04-25T12:45:00.000-07:00

ISOTOPE – Golden Section

Posthumous release of live and studio tapes from 1974-75, recorded by a line-up thus composed: Gary Boyle (guitar), Hugh Hopper (bass), Nigel Morris (drums) and Laurence Scott (keyboards) with percussionist Aureo de Souza joining the party in two tracks. Golden Section is a good, unyielding album of British fusion, largely influenced by entities such as Mahavishnu Orchestra and Weather Report. Also, rather intriguingly, this embodiment of the band seems to foresee realities which will be explored shortly thereafter by Tony Williams’ New Lifetime. Boyle’s digital pyrotechnics still sound attractive after all these years, Hopper is solid and funky, Morris works fine as an impulsive rhythmic propeller and Scott coordinates the whole with harmonic taste to spare. The bulk of the pieces appears structurally related, but the eminence and the technical level of the players - and the feeling born from those traits - stick the music with a brand that’s typically Cuneiform. Picture a mental place where, as soon as a track begins and themes and improvisations flow, one smells the dust on a gatefold cover, mourning the loss of that adolescent curiosity whose fruits were tasted during locked-room meetings with a different kind of awareness. Holding back emotions becomes an arduous task, then. This was a heavily touring unit (as shown by the extreme facility with which the players engage in the tunes) whose short extent was enormously disproportioned in regard to a prospective success. Looks like even a young Michael Jackson was once spotted with an Isotope LP in his hands: believe it or not, there was a time in which Motown used to distribute their albums. (Cuneiform)

SCOTT FIELDS ENSEMBLE – Fugu

These pieces were initially created with the intention of providing substance for a choreography by Li Chiao-Ping, whose dancers apparently couldn’t manage to follow the material’s erratic metres well enough to actually bring the proposed collaboration to a completion. Providentially the sounds remain, and they’re refined as much as necessary to stand alone for regular CD-fuelled consumption. The leader shows a superb command of nylon strings alternating disobedient clusters, asymmetrical rasgueados, swinging impertinence and poetic linearity depending on the circumstance. The lyrical counter altar is represented by cellist Matt Turner, who often steals the spotlight with the daydreaming rigour of his beautiful tone, finely complemented by vibraphonist Robert Stright’s shimmering unselfishness. An outstanding rhythm section – Geoff Brady on percussion, John Padden on double bass – provides a pulse that is full of zip but never petulant, contributing to the dismemberment of potential lassitude - a constant peril both in jazz and any kind of music conceived for dance. Fields confirms himself to be a name to keep an eye on all the time, especially when analyzing the way in which he frequently relinquishes a role of guitar-wielding protagonist while privileging a considerable transparency in the overall design, in turn cleverly enriched by a magnificent stability in the composed/improvised ratio. (Clean Feed)

GLASGOW IMPROVISERS ORCHESTRA – GIO Poetics

Difficult CD to appraise, this one. I’ve been listening to it on and off for months, without deciding about what the real feedback was. The conclusion is “positive”, overall - but in spurts, not in its entirety. GIO was in this occasion joined by Ernesto and Guilherme Rodrigues, who were travelling in Scotland for a live performance with vocalist Aileen Campbell and guitarist Neil Davidson. The recording was arranged 24 hours after that set, the outcome showing all the positives and the negatives of such a swift decision. Indeed what is virtually absent is the sense of on-the-spot composition that is typical of multi-instrumental settings where a minimum of prior concentration, when not an actual rehearsal, has taken place before the red light appears. There are in fact moments in which a general impression of scarce lucidity transpires amidst the numerous cooperative transactions. Yet there’s also an unquestionable “rough freshness” that permeates the four selections, with particular regard to “Dog’s Got My Money”, a gorgeous mixture of timbres - with an observable predominance of tensely droning strings - that alone is worth more than a few listens. The attractiveness of non-training consists in a series of unexpected snapshots of perturbed restlessness, which renders this introvert music quite interesting despite my difficulty in penetrating its spirit in depth. As told above, this disc requires time and persistence – and even following that, rewards are NOT a given. (Creative Sources)

JOHN WOLF BRENNAN – The Speed Of Dark

Brennan, a bright pianist and a musician gifted with finely tuned ears, is capable of digging out inspiration from a multitude of different elements – instrumental, natural, motorized or all of the above – and translate it into music which, as far as the experimental nuance might go, often sails seas of tranquil melancholy and brooding moods, a particularly conspicuous case in point being the returning theme of “Vals”. In this record he calls his means of expression “nonsolopiano”, given the employment of enhancing items such as mechanical pumps and aged clocks to dictate the tempo of a piece, or simply to duet with, besides the sporadic use of other instruments including Irish whistle, melodica and accordion. The Speed Of Dark revolves around scarcely acknowledged connections linking Ireland and Switzerland (respectively, Brennan’s family’s native country and the artist’s current location – the man is fortunate, one would say) and utilizes materials - concrete and invented - from both areas, combined in diverse types of creative practice. The way in which he articulates the sonic imagery is transparent and, at the same time, immeasurable like the unpremeditated propagation of affecting vibrations that frequently arises from the scents of these graceful solutions, even the most ingenious ones. Listening to those sympathetic chordal designs while reflecting about certain angles that life unexpectedly shows comes pretty easy, correspondingly to the will of regularly spinning the CD. A technically sophisticated, reflective classiness that pays dividends. (Leo)

Psychoacoustics Galore

2010-04-18T11:24:00.000-07:00

JACOB KIRKEGAARD – Labyrinthitis

Had wanted to listen to this for months, finally did it today. To cut a very long story short (since, in order to understand these absolutely fascinating practices, a set of explicative liners is waiting for you) Labyrinthitis originates from DPOAE (Distortion Process OtoAcoustic Emissions), namely sounds emitted by the cochlea upon incentive by external tones (as opposed to SOAE – Spontaneous OtoAcoustic Emissions, autonomously generated by the inner ear in absence of stimulus). The emanations were recorded by Kirkegaard by placing minuscule microphones and speakers inside his ears, so that he could amplify and translate the results of the stimulation/response method into appreciable matters for the poor humans not undergoing the actual treatment. A remarkable experiment, lasting circa 38 minutes on disc, that actually generates a well-perceptible reaction from a sympathetic brain (provided that one plays the CD at considerable volume); but, in all honesty, not really an earthshaking assertion. In terms of pure sonority, the overtones perceived – not subliminally, rather “vociferously” – render this mass of superimposed frequencies often comparable to overhanging chords held in the higher registers of an organ, with a degree of pitch fluctuation and “beating within”. The latter components constitute the specific reason for which our interest is maintained alive for the entire course. The outcome gets concretely evident as soon as the whole’s over, as we seem to feel a little dazed (the final section is indeed the place where the stunning effects become substantial). Quite rapidly, though, the perceptive systems adjust to the newborn silence. Fine enough stuff, yet I expected a tad more of emotion-eliciting substance. On the contrary, there were exclusively cerebral answers, in turn generating transfixing sensations. The aid of the listening environment in diffusing the waves is a must. (Touch)

CORY ALLEN – Hearing Is Forgetting The Name Of The Things One Hears

“Best suited to be heard by the peripherals of the attentive mind”, as written on the press blurb. That pretty effectively defines this polite record, consisting of five electronically generated segments revolving around consonant, if somewhat autonomous structures where a clutch of linear designs, either partially superimposing or more unconnected, gently unfolds in almost total intelligibility. Underneath, we can take advantage of Allen’s subtle work with nerve-titillating frequencies accompanying the otherwise straightforward arrangement with its own effectiveness, to the point that one tends to instinctively favour that sort of indistinct pervasiveness to the essential melodic materials. An odd variety of “humanly mechanical” minimalism that should appeal to a good number of listeners, as it’s both intriguing and easy to understand (which is a plus in my book). A sort of association – as inevitably found by this never-really-contented commentator – could be individuated with David Behrman’s records on Lovely (think, for example, Leapday Night), though Allen doesn’t dig that deep. Still - to quote again from the composer’s notes - “the key to experiencing the full depth of the album, however, is to listen attentively as much as passively”. That’s fine enough, except that I can’t manage to analyze music listened unreceptively. By putting the attention in, several points of interest were spotted: try and find them yourselves, too. (Quiet Design)

ROLF JULIUS – Music For The Ears

The first CD in a series of eight that will be covering Rolf Julius’ work over the last thirty years, Music For The Ears manifests like a sudden, unexpected reward after a whole day unsuccessfully spent in search of rational stillness. Recorded in 1979, these splendidly uncomplicated, unadulterated agglomerates of surprising pitches explores the relations between softly diffusing tones, elongated stretches of silence and apparently impregnable drones, as to determine a space for the mind to establish a code of respectful behaviour towards our body, inevitably taking advantage from the alternative way in which those constituents are recognized. “Song From The Past” revolves around effortless combinations of repetitive-yet-dissimilar patterns, the timbre directly connected to the fundamental nature of bamboo. The piece emerges as a sort of Pygmy mantra, a fragile prayer evocating divine beings able to unlock the spiritual attributes of the human race’s weakest segments from the earthly sufferance that seems to constantly plague them. “Music On Two High Poles”, on the contrary, recalls the beneficially monotonous qualities of Scottish bagpipes, frequencies decidedly incisive but not for a moment aggravating. Here the composer looks more interested in the beating of the adjacent partials, investigating aspects of static juxtaposition that summons up the spirits of celebrated minimalist composers, in spite of the fact that the tantalizing sympathy characterizing Julius’ motionless waves is truly one of a kind, definitely incomparable in its misleading poverty. If this is just the beginning, we’ll be waiting restlessly for the next chapters. (Western Vinyl)

Low Points, High Points

2010-04-11T03:00:00.000-07:00

English label Low Point kindly sent these three CDs for review over the last few months. Two of them are really, really fine, the third (and most recent one) is not on the same level, unfortunately. Thanks to Gareth Hardwick and Simmo for their trust.

TIM CATLIN & MACHINEFABRIEK – Glisten

An outstandingly concise, musically significant release born from shrewdly applied strategies. Machinefabriek (née Rutger Zuydervelt) came across Catlin’s work while doing some research on prepared guitar, so decided to contact him and the joint venture kicked off. The nine tracks of Glisten will definitely appeal to anyone paying attention to the murk-and-glitter zones of the guitar spectrum, with particular reference to long-lasting resonances of floating harmonics and layering of untidy tones generated either by plucking or bowing the strings. Unquestionably the partners share an interest for the manumission of evenness, yet the music never falls in the holes of simplistic improvisation or chaotic imprecision, resulting well-regulated and clearly designed in each aspect. The transformation of the instrumental gradations into something entirely different is achieved rather smoothly (“Flutter”); pieces whose spellbinding qualities transpire beyond any scientific approach are also present (“Haul”, “Arpeggio”). Generally speaking, the timbres produced by the duo linger within the semi-clean region – more solid overdriven concoctions are sporadically met, nonetheless - but always with an unambiguous configuration that gives them significance and a reason to exist. In a couple of circumstances, Aidan Baker’s first album Element flashed its (just apparent) influence. Make no mistake, though: this is one of the most excellent examples of active modification heard lately, with a totally distinctive character. After four-five consecutive listens, my mechanisms of consideration awarded it a “near-must” kind of prominence.

KYLE BOBBY DUNN – A Young Person’s Guide To Kyle Bobby Dunn

To provide an (admittedly simplistic) orientation to those who never heard the work of Kyle Bobby Dunn, think of a summit between William Basinski and Stars Of The Lid. Of the former we can see certain looping structures constructed upon everlasting repetitions bathed in desolate musing. Of the latter, the scarce intelligibility of colours and timbres, the voluntary non-definition of an essential vagueness and the achingly slow development of the thematic materials. But Dunn – a “minimalist composer and sound artist” (the press blurb’s classification is OK with me) – starts from a different place: in fact, his pieces are born from technically advanced musicians, whom he calls to bring into existence the preselected instrumental palette (in this case, guitar, strings, brass and piano). The recordings are subsequently put in a computer and remodelled according to the artist’s vision. These two discs comprise twelve fascinating tracks, in which the sheer beauty and the deep melancholy of Dunn’s work are finely highlighted. Pseudo-classic designs are dyed with a sense of inevitable sadness, consonant chords meshing their upper partials typically and rigorously at once. Echoes of compassion characterized by sympathetic vibrations that resonate unusually immediately find the right spot to hammer nails of quiet dejection in heavy hearts. The influence of this music on the mood is conspicuous, and there’s no way to get unwrapped from this cocoon of cheerlessness if we just give this splendid release the attention it deserves. If you thought of using it as ambient wallpaper, expect a letdown: these shades were designed to keep us thinking, and I, for one, have been doing that very intensely since the first disc started spinning.

SPARTAK – Verona

An Australian duo – Shoeb Ahmad and Evan Dorrian – who attempted to generate something theoretically interesting during a 2-day "anything goes" session (that’s what the information says) by manipulating regular instruments - guitar and percussion - together with electronics, no-input mixer, computerized processing and vocal contributions. They start adequately enough, though certainly not in groundbreaking fashion, with a couple of nice tracks (prepared guitars, field recordings, radio - typical ingredients used with noticeable commitment). But after a short while the initial sheen is completely lost and the record literally disintegrates under the weight of ordinariness. What’s especially to stigmatize is the disproportionate incidence of drums, which veritably destroy any potential interest in a number of pieces and – well, yes - the above mentioned external factors: Joseph McKee’s “tape ghost voices” in “Sleepstalker” would like to appear psychologically perturbing yet end up being merely irksome, and Lucrecia Peres’ “angel voices” in “Second-Half Clouded” amount to a third-hand replica of Lisa Gerrard. The large part of the music seems improvised without a clear idea of where the players really wanted to go, and the expected machine-based tricks (infinite-repeat delay on top of everything) can’t attribute any deepness to a gathering of ideas that never take a definite shape, remaining just an assortment of mainly tedious sketches.

Darren Tate, His Loyal Friends, The Elves And The Gnomes Always Bring Good News And Should Rule The World

2010-04-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

How’s that for a title? Maybe it could be used for a next release… Folks, these are two GREAT records. Don’t even think of missing them.

DARREN TATE – Nature In The City

An abnormally lengthy outing for Tate – it clocks at circa 75 minutes – which is also a homage to Die Stadt’s superlative boss and drone peddler, Herr Jochen Schwarz. I could not think of a better person for a hats-off except perhaps that guy, whose name can’t be remembered now, to which the neo-dada artist dedicated his earlier Trees Kissing Trees (heh). Kidding aside, this is an unconditionally absorbing album by the reticent man from Acomb, an individual style expressed in a different way with each release, so that we can always shout “It’s Tate” right away in the face of the innovations. It all begins with a track based on deeply rhythmic throbbing with an assortment of blips and waves, absolutely ear-wrapping and soothing. The second movement is founded on an immobile chord upon which chaotic guitar improvisations and sounds halfway through metropolitan alarms and videogames succeed in mind-numbing fashion until a hammering synthetic pulse becomes the leading force in the end. The piece is evidently nonstandard and utterly dislodging but still wonderful, echoes of Faust showing up in my memory, heaven knows why. The third chapter is started by a fantastic rising-and-falling low frequency (a loop of an ephemeral car?) fused with a nocturnal type of electronic hypnosis in what's probably the most emotionally startling moment of the whole disc. This magical atmosphere is soon broken by the protagonist, who extracts residues in the neighbourhood of the axe’s pickups, consisting in extremely acute, almost prickly droplets and plucked notes warped with the vibrato bar. The final stage features another slow oscillation (this time appearing like a hollow lament filtered by flanging and distorting pedals), a few indefinably sick, noisy-string intromissions, a lot of heavily processed chirping and whistling birds, forever a pleasure to come across (it is indeed one of this musician’s favourite sources) and, bizarrely, meagre keyboard dashes for a handful of seconds. It gradually acquires “ugly strength”, yet only when the record’s over we realize that what seemed brutal was actually healthy. We’re lucky to be able to enjoy the fruits of this free-thinker’s work, and Nature In The City is particularly succulent. (Fungal - distributed by Die Stadt and ICR – otherwise see you on eBay in two months)

MONOS – Above The Sky + Below The Earth

The latest incarnation of Monos – Darren Tate, Colin Potter and Paul Bradley – performed live only once, in 2006. The tape of that concert didn’t satisfy the trio’s lust for release, but apparently that was the root from which a masterful album - that has seen the light just recently – was born. As it usually happens, those who count on good mafia connections (the aforesaid Jochen Schwarz, for example) get alerted in due time about the existence of a limited edition copy that must be grabbed at pre-stroke price prior to its vanishing, which is precisely what we’re reviewing here.

Above The Sky is kind of psychedelic, although it maintains the droning character typical of several Monos efforts. Sounds range from unbounded electronic activity, murky guitars arpeggios and infinite organ chords to misshapen field recordings, wraithlike shortwave presences and marvellously singing flying creatures, a blackbird acting as soloist in a particularly intense section. The music is clearly designed as a patchwork, in that one distinctly detects the collage of different soundscapes added and manipulated over the years. Nevertheless, everything unfolds naturally in this now-heavenly, now-nightmarish expedition in which special kinds of mental imagery – wryly smiling dolls, distorted demon faces, pastoral openings, the more the merrier – could be met. This is going to be appreciated by Nurse With Wound occasional fans, too (the zealots already bought it, of course).
Below The Earth is the bonus disc, and – despite the attendance of not-exactly-consonant factors disturbing an overall calmness – is the half that’s similar enough to the mysterious motionlessness emblematic of Monos’ prior releases (which will NEVER be comparable to any variety of “dark ambient” horseshit – this is seriously composed stuff, my friends). This means that we can make the music work at various levels of realization: you might use the unquiet stasis as a starting point for extreme self-analysis, keep it as a valuable company for rare peaceful moments, or probe it through headphones and find the extraneous elements that are still there, if better camouflaged. And don’t miss the fantastic finale, tropical birds preceding an extremely melodic, if well-concealed guitar performing a starry-eyed melody. It may have been done ironically yet comes out as absolutely tender, and it’s a fitting conclusion. Both CDs are fine examples of these men’s abstract artistry. If you’re smart enough, find a reason to look for this item before the value skyrockets. (ICR)

Three Crónica(s)

2010-04-02T10:22:00.000-07:00

MARC BEHRENS – Sleppet

Predictability is a very high risk in compositions exclusively based on field recordings, but with Marc Behrens we can always rest assured that the development of any dissertation will introduce numerous factors of interest. Sleppet was recorded between 2007 and 2008 in Norway and Germany to fulfil a commission by Deutschlandradio Kultur. Either via the concreteness of industrial sounds or through the definite anguish generated by crying animals – be it a flock of seagulls or baah-ing sheep – Behrens is able to confirm is long-established sensitiveness for what concerns the capturing of the fundamental nature of a sound. Close proximity to the melting water of a glacier ensures that a series of impressive rumbles and crackles let us feel like a part of the direct experience. The wind is perceived as a protective mantle, and magnificent singing birds make us remember the few reasons for which life is worth of being lived. Forlorn ambiences become a road to redemption, substantial matters are a link to human quintessence. Everything appears logical, even the unanticipated abruptness of certain turns of events. The vividness of the details and the intelligence of the inherent consecutiveness characterizing the whole piece completes the achievement of a tangible gratification. Solid, sober work by one of the masters of the game.

PURE – Ification

One for the dissolution and/or enhancement of the intellect, featuring a couple of somewhat involving episodes and a number of scarcely significant ingredients as far as artistic validity is concerned. Pure works with samples, which he transforms and extends endlessly, at times even beyond the limit of what’s aurally tolerable. When the guidelines of telluric vibration are dutifully followed, the nerves benefit from the nullification of reason: the infinite bass tones of “End” represent a veritable brainwashing apparatus. Occasionally, the plot thickens in terms of sonic mass (lots of percussion, Martin Brandlmayr contributing drums in two tracks) yet the compositional logic appears a little light, when not entirely missing. In those moments, all we seem to hear is a series of partially successful experiments where a certain kind of electronic nuance is reiterated for a long time, which might be OK for, say, a modern dance soundtrack; but in regard to the indispensable gratification obtainable by listening to a CD, that is not enough. In short, the muscle of this album is superior to its wisdom, the emotional content of pieces such as “After The Bomb” and the above mentioned “End” notwithstanding. The less satisfactory disc of this trio.

GILLES AUBRY – Berlin Backyards

This is a fine work, despite its obviously unpretentious nature. It might belong in the category of favourite listens for undisturbed moments in the early morning (now) or late evening, being mostly made with remote urban echoes – the title and the cover photographs say it all – which were recorded in 2006 by Aubry who glued, looped and stretched the results in the studio. Thus a 48-minute piece was generated, in which the predominant sound is that sort of constant drone typical of the big cities especially at night, a murmuring whirr that – enjoyed in the right circumstance – functions as a wrapping tissue, a protection against negative influence and, occasionally, a stimulator of profound reflections. Therefore, this is not a record that can be subjected to any kind of critical analysis: either you like it or you don’t, and this writer happens to love it. There’s a narrative quality emerging from these obscure soundscapes: one figures human activities going on incessantly while we, as external observers, ponder about the roles carried on day by day, often unconsciously. The whole is tinged with a sense of ineluctability and steadiness at the same time, hundreds of intersections among different life conditions creating a widespread texture of whooshing low frequencies that seem to increase our inner safeguard.

Crónica

Memories Of Mr. 23 (The Alfred Harth Chronicles)

2010-03-31T11:42:00.000-07:00

ALFRED HARTH - This Earth!

ECM

In 1983, ECM’s honcho Manfred Eicher “nominated” Alfred Harth as the musical director of This Earth!, with the chance of choosing the participants to the ensuing recording. The lineup is astrophysical: Maggie Nicols, Paul Bley, Barre Phillips and Trilok Gurtu assist the record’s nominal proprietor along nine chapters entirely composed by him. The target was, in the principal’s words, “to contribute to help rising the ecological consciousness at that time, and point out the preciousness of the planet we are living on. Three years later Tchernobyl happened and set a new sign within the ecological movement..”

Lots of literary foundations and personal discoveries are infused in this creation, officially released in 1984. Sri Aurobindo, Alan Watts’ The Wisdom Of Insecurity, Abraham Maslow (already quoted in the past in a Goebbels & Harth track, “Life Can Be A Gestalt In Time”). And then, Fritz Perls, Stanislav Grof, John C. Lilly’s studies on dolphin communication, Ken Wilber, Michael Murphy. Harth was, and still is, deeply interested and moved by the exploration of the “extraordinary human potentials”; to this day, he declares himself a follower of Transhumanism.

Accordingly, a number of selections amount to a direct allusion to the improvement of the individual. “Relation To Light, Colour And Feeling” begins with a poised yet intense dialogue between Bley and Phillips to open up in spacious linearity, splendidly rendered in unison by Nicols and Harth, Gurtu adding a few percussive flavours when Nicols starts vocalizing more abstractly. “Body And Mentation” is one of the most lyrical episodes of an uncharacteristically “tranquil” record as opposed to the Frankfurter’s standards, a beautiful counterpoint branded by the inner confidence of musicians who know how to move in and around a composition even when blindfolded. The chief’s tenor leads the dance with a poignant invocation, and nothing needs to be said anymore when that heartfelt call gives room to a sizeable measure of stirring passion. “Energy: Blood/Air” is a moderately swinging piece whose melodic jitteriness approaches post-bop territories - chiefly articulated by Nicols’ scatting - and another curious setting for the notions of Harth, who accompanies the English singer with a tone that could easily be defined as classic. A concise assertion by Bley is delivered in straightforward fashion, Phillips closing the segment with a solo of his own.

Gurtu opens “Come Oekotopia” with suggestive echoes, then a sax/bass duet enters the picture in somewhat edgy conversation. Again, it’s the main actor who steals the show with a trademark dramatic departure before the English vocalist joins in. The opening of “Waves Of Being” might be compared to certain pages from Lindsay Cooper’s book, a smart chapter of modern-day chamber flair instantly pushed towards liberal swing by Bley and Phillips, who exchange ideas and energies like two well informed friends. The succeeding passages - arcoed strings and bass clarinet proceeding jointly, holding hands in stunning beauty - are an authentication of the kind of artistic brilliance able to reallocate a tune from “normal” to “attractive” with a simple idea. The final “Transformate, Transcend Tones And Images” is sung by Nicols over an arco bass/piano rarefaction, evoking shades of Julie Tippetts ancestry. An appropriate winding up for a program that never really exalts or excites, but keeps us with the mind positively firm and the ears constantly vigilant, catching small signs and slight changes that nevertheless weigh a lot in the sonic economy.

This is an effort that discards histrionically charged gestures, revealing a different side of Harth. This man’s presence on ECM has been infrequent to say the least but – in the moments in which it occurred – some outstanding concepts surfaced in unpredicted ways, unquestionably distant from the lows to which the label has recurrently crumbled down from the almost unreachable benchmarks of its glorious times. Not a surprise that we’re still waiting for an official reissue of This Earth! – exactly the same thing that is happening with the historically essential Just Music.

Sweet Grittiness

2010-03-28T12:31:00.000-07:00

CELER – Fountain Glider

A rather atypical but nonetheless very effective release by Celer, especially in virtue of what my expectations were after having seen the CD’s cover and read the sources (glider cabin during flights, runway wind, cello, violin, electronics). Let’s immediately clarify that the only identifiable sounds are the ones that weren’t generated by the “regular” instruments, as cello and violin were rendered utterly unrecognizable by broad-minded electronic treatments. There’s also a knowledgeable use of distortion, quite an innovation in the duo’s music (which, as a rule, is founded on undying reverberations and murmured fluxes of frequencies). The mastery lies in letting the adjoining constituents unfold without urgency, so that we feel like being shut within the cabin one moment – wonderful muted drones underlining the experience – and close to a nuclear plant the next, a strange sort of semi-harmonic defoliation of timbre going on and on, first shockingly then entirely welcome. This grainy invariability characterizes the disc’s second half pretty seriously, still possessing the enticing qualities that have stunned us in past releases by the Long duo. Given both the rarity of the edition and the unusual temperament of selected parts, I warmly thank Will for sending me a copy of this excellent work, although it’s by now out of print (a reissue has already been planned). (Students Of Decay)

LUIGI ARCHETTI – Null

Never I would envision, by reading the name Luigi Archetti in Krautrock chronicles of many years ago, his records standing among my favourite listens, independently of the genre, in 2010. Archetti’s work is multifarious – recordings, installations and whatever you could imagine from a bright 55-year old who left a depressingly decaying place (Italy) as a kid to go living in a wonderfully civil one (Switzerland). But, most of all, this man’s field of research deals with the analysis of the relations between the small constituents of an instrument and, at large, of the sonic consistency. He steers clear of styles and definitions, utilizing his axe as a generator of multitudes of different emanations. Drones are present, of course - intelligently deployed and with the right dose of gravel. Then, prickling granules of harmonics, portentously misshapen loops and gripping oscillations, often in the space of a single track. Music that expresses disagreement with the norm, yet doesn’t need noise to become another piece of obviousness. There’s nothing that can be described as comforting in the thirteen episodes of Null; still, the record has been spinning endlessly for two days and its qualities keep shining. Coldness revealing a heart, turbulence masked as immobility, breathtaking vistas apparently confined by structural limitations. Either percussively or with some kind of bowing technique, the radiance expressed by these detachedly calm sabotages is something unique. One of the few masterpieces heard in the year’s first quarter, an outing that will put guitar-manipulating pretenders to shame. (Die Schachtel)

Uneven Trio, Depending On Your Disposition

2010-03-24T13:19:00.000-07:00

ALAN LICHT & LOREN CONNORS – Into The Night Sky

There’s this strange sensation with Loren Connors, which materializes intermittently inside my soul. In fact I’m not a fan, by no means thinking of him as a great guitarist; also, the way in which he articulates that unique variety of semi-atonal, reference-less blues never touched me profoundly as it seemingly happens to many people, at least reading the scores of rave reviews. Yet the curiosity of listening to another recording which includes TAFKAM (The Artist Formerly Known As MazzaCane) often returns because, somehow, I wish to be convinced of the man’s prominence. Into The Night Sky – the second duet with Alan Licht after 2003’s In France – features elements that confirm this balance of moderate admiration and obstinate non-believing. At times the first chapter “Map Of Dusk” recalls two high school classmates locked in a room and meowing around with inexpensive Strat imitations and a few even cheaper pedals. Uninteresting strumming and indecisive meanderings mostly directed to nowhere, except for a small number of airier sections where ampler spaces between the notes help our concentration to build a little muscle. The title track is decidedly better, introducing acceptable levels of dissonance, a whiff of jangling alternativeness and mild experimentation based upon noisy manipulation and stringed indistinctness, a modicum of melodic construction leading us through the deeper levels of elusiveness. Unequivocally preferable to the preceding half, which sincerely sounds as below par material when compared with the latter. (Family Vineyard)

SIMON WHETHAM – Understory

Published last year, this is a good album of field recordings made by Whetham during a 2-week artist residency led by Francisco López in 2007 in the Amazon rainforest region in Brazil, called Mamori Sound Project. It’s not a radical statement but does contain a few attention-grabbing sections, particularly in the second half in which the voices from the forest and other local presences are modified, looped, collated and manipulated in compositional fashion to elicit fascinating specimens of nebulous sonority which encourage our speechlessness. At the beginning, the original sources are deployed consecutively over the course of brief snapshots: airplanes, insects, wonderfully singing birds, wind, rain, you know the score. One is convinced of being in front of the umpteenth chapter of “uselessly beautiful” environment-based outing. As the time goes, though, the action becomes more interesting, a worryingly still atmosphere prevailing with sporadic unexpected events waking us up from a state of inertia. When the CD has ended a sense of completion has thoroughly defeated the “been there, done that” initial reaction. (Trente Oiseaux)

TERRY FOX – The Labyrinth Scored For 11 Different Cats

After reading about the “orchestration” and having never heard the piece (original date: 1977), I instantly begged good old Ed Benndorf at Dense Distribution to send a copy of this, given that cats are one of the (not many) proofs of intelligence present on the planet. Dozens of these amazing creatures walk around and over me every day, reminding that their silences reveal more than a million human words. The late Terry Fox got this idea when the cat of a friend started to regularly stretch on his lap whenever he went to see him, associating the typical droning emission of the feline with mathematic formulas linked with the circular labyrinth of the cathedral of Notre-Dame in Chartres which he had visited in 1972, remaining fascinated in the process. Well, for what my opinion is still worth, this is just a 70-minute curiosity verging on the utterly boring, a record that might keep you company for a while, but that’s all. No artistic relevance whatsoever, no illumination or bliss in sight. The purring is obviously lovely to listen to, even if there are sections in which its magnification recalls a snoring drunkard rather than a cute, chubby, warm hairy ball grabbing the flesh of your thighs with nails (several of our little monsters do that when they’re oh-so-happy of being caressed). A delusion indeed. Better go down to the kitchen, pour some milk and rip a pack of Whiskas open… I already hear them calling. Gremlins, perhaps? (Choose)

Pretty Obscure Releases Deserving A Mention

2010-03-13T13:48:00.000-08:00

CHRISTIAN LILLINGERS GRUND – First Reason

Apparently, master pianist Joachim Kühn fell in love with drummer and composer Christian Lillinger’s work at a first listen, having had the chance of appreciating his playing at a festival in Ibiza in 2008. He is also the producer of this record, besides lending hands as a performer in three of its eleven pieces. Basically, Grund (=ground in German) is a quintet made of two reedists (Tobias Delius and Wanja Slavin) and two bassists (Jonas Westergaard and Robert Landfermann) in conjunction with the leader. The adjective that immediately springs to mind when listening to this recording is “cerebral”, not necessarily (and not always) in a negative sense. The well-oiled correlations between the parts and the right amount of emancipation thrown in every once in a while contribute to depict a music that sounds sharp but not acrimonious, elements of tradition and scientific analysis of the instrumental relations weighing exactly the same. If the intelligibility of the arrangements is absolute and the procedural democracy shown in all the tunes substantial – contrapuntal friction and thorny melodic linearity both critical ingredients of the recipe - nevertheless there’s a noticeable level of frigidity getting in the way of a thorough enjoyment of the CD, which in essence appears as a fine-sounding rational exercise with a couple of noteworthy moments (such as the superb “Feldarbeit”). Definitely one for the intellect, not for the heart. (Clean Feed)

IN SAND – Whatever

A quintet specialized in “free chamber improvisation” as per their own definition, whose playing is heavily informed by strings (Gus Garside - double bass, Richard Padley - guitar, Danny Kingshill - cello, Satoko Fukuda - violin and percussion) but also aided by a laptop-managing Scandinavian soul, Thor Magnusson. Garside and Kingshill were two thirds in the excellent The Pursuit Of Happiness on Emanem, the third member being the fantastic and unreasonably unsung Sylvia Hallett. There’s a lot of meat to be chewed in this recording, which expands the vocabulary of improvisation without sounding sacrilegious, always keeping a door open to comprehension. Idealistic mixtures, chaotic conjunctions and sudden clearings of the instrumental horizons succeed in absence of a manifest logic, yet determine the birth of one during the course of the events. Remaining anchored to this spiny consecutiveness – namely, following what the players do not including befuddlement - is nigh on unfeasible, due to the material’s constantly shifting dynamics and severe fragmentation. This notwithstanding, the music agrees to the creation of a comfortably human habitat, at least for the well-versed. Irony and grace are appropriately utilized, and the rare instances in which things really don’t work (for example, when voices appear) are easily forgotten. The electronic excrescences are rarely seen in the front row, still resulting extremely functional when spotted. Overall an interesting album, though not truly one for the ages. (Uneasy Listening)

Yet Another Odd Couple

2010-03-07T01:36:00.000-08:00

IF, BWANA - Clara Nostra

Here’s a stimulating substance for the serious cultists of psyche-affecting drones, just in case it was missed the first time (which would show that they’re not so serious after all). Clara Nostra - originally published in 1999 on Pogus, was entirely prepared with manipulated tapes saturated with clarinets, which were superimposed and bounced in hundreds of ping-ponging tracks until a (demonstrable) total of 106.476 was reached. Astronomical figures aside, this is purely and simply one of the best low-frequency albums ever made. A massive monolith comprising barely traceable movements in mammoth subsonic stasis, which is what distances this music from the “press a single key, feed the Lexicon and go eat something” shallowness of the 98% of today's releases in this area (yes, I'm getting repetitive, but am not going to stop anytime soon). Put this in your player, set the volume to a decent level and feel the air flooded by quivering liquids, the heartbeat and the breathing rhythms slowing down, the consciousness dilating (…and several loose parts in the room trembling). This thing is also extremely helpful against external noises, therefore you can consider it a means of positive isolation (nothing beats Klaus Wiese’s Space in that sense, though: if plagued by, say, the neighbour’s son’s racket, use that CD in infinite repeat for absolute cerebral ecstasy and utter destruction of any extraneous egotistical behaviour). With this magnificent record, Al Margolis arrived very close to that height. Lots of kudos to Echomusic for bringing it back from the depths of memory, if only in a 99-copy extra-limited edition. (Echomusic)

THE RESPECT SEXTET – Sirius Respect

The Respect Sextet (Eli Asher, James Hirschfeld, Josh Rutner, Red Wierenga, Malcolm Kirby, Matt Clohesy, Ted Poor - hey, they're seven...) are affirmed professional players working in disparate areas. As a general rule I’m quite averse to tributes, however this one's good enough to have been listened to four or five times in the last days. Two apparently opposite poles of the musical spectrum, Karlheinz Stockhausen and Sun Ra did indeed share something, especially when peculiar considerations about the cosmos and its infinite relations became a fundamental part of the equation. Still, their music couldn't be more different, hence a hats off to Respect for having managed to render the chosen selections so well amalgamated in this coherent program. That these men can handle instruments is obvious, yet there's heart behind the technical refinement: everything is performed with concentrated joy and enthusiastic precision, the arrangements - fairly courteous to the ears - usually tight, occasionally even meticulous. The Ra materials - which include "Jet Flight", "Angels And Demons At Play" and a gorgeous snippet of "Velvet" - are typically brisker and relatively garrulous, a "shake your booty" attitude always present, with rare exceptions (i.e. certain monotonous solos). The Stockhausen pieces - among them "Leo", "Pisces" and "Capricorn" - are also characterized by a jazzy vibe that the composer would probably not appreciate, but in this particular context work fine. The exception (which, not accidentally, constitutes my choice moment of the CD) is a magnificent version of "Set Sail For The Sun", sensible introspection - under the shape of mysterious tones slowly unfolding in restrained tension - finally prevailing upon the overall sense of elegantly zealous divertissement. (Mode Avant)

Triple Bath Pair

2010-02-28T07:29:00.000-08:00

TZESNE – La Carne

La Carne (“The Meat”) comprises processed noises that – directly or less – were generated from the manipulation of sounds deriving from that element; indeed the last (useless) 15 minutes are occupied by echoes from a slaughterhouse, including the poor mooing animals. Massive slabs of granular, gritty, hissing materials operate aggressively on the ears, and there’s a section in the second track where a female voice – or its ghost – seems to have been looped in the remote background. The problem is that I can’t detect a true compositional sense in any of these sand-in-the-eyes stormy landscapes, whose overall sound is pretty stressing: playing the CD loud causes aural irritation, but keeping it at a lower level the “fine details” don’t get heard. Occasionally useful (say, while walking in the street in a rainy morning in order to avoid listening to people’s bullshit) yet, when everything’s over, one doesn’t feel the need of starting again - especially because of the tactical error of placing those extremely boring slaughterhouse reverberations at the end of an already wearing program.

MICHAEL CHOCHOLAK – Alveromancy

The sound strategy of Michael Chocholak has never really convinced me, despite a few interesting ideas scattered across numerous CDs (admittedly, not all of them were heard). He’s a quite anarchic musician, which is a good starting point. Still, the selection of the tracks for a single work must undergo a stricter process of evaluation, otherwise respectable compositions risk to get meshed with stuff that sounds like a kid at play with a Tascam in the living room. Accordingly, Alveromancy is exactly what was expected by the Oregonian, in that comprises a series of situations ranging from the nearly indigestible havoc of “Ariel” to the heavenly openings of the Audiomulch-generated “Deep Blue Dreaming”. Also, attractive guitar-based fumes are to be inhaled in “Aurora (Daughter Of Heaven”). The whole album is characterized by Chocholak’s typical volatility, an indicator of both his unruly bravery and total incapability of distinguishing what truly deserves publication and what instead is better left in the vault. He should put the very best things in 30-minute editions and proceed from there.

Triple Bath

Two Aces

2010-02-28T07:24:00.000-08:00

JOE MORRIS QUARTET – Today On Earth

“This is quartet music that emphasizes the groove”, says Joe Morris to illustrate the material contained in Today On Earth, which features anarchically brilliant alto saxophonist Jim Hobbs, attuned virtuoso bassist Timo Shanko and solidly ingenious drummer Luther Gray. The guitarist’s depiction finds a confirmation since the first notes of the opening “Backbone”, a swinging naturalness informing the members’ flummoxing facility in delivering themselves from the constrictions of a pulse while remaining entirely synchronized. Immediately thereafter, the angularly pensive theme of the unperturbed “Animal” constitutes a highlight in this circumstance and one of the most terrific tunes ever by Morris, whose unprocessed tone and close-to-brusque approach to phrasing remains an admirable attribute in times of overly compressed saturation, market-approved suffering faces and hyper-technical pointlessness better suited for Guitar Player’s adolescent readers. These two tracks alone define the richness of particulars and the clearness of mind shown the whole time by the foursome, but there’s more to savour and commit to memory. “Observer”, for example, links melodic unfussiness, depth of vision and instantaneous prowess in fine acoustic handwriting, Shanko and Hobbs actors in very intense, almost transcendental solo spots before the leader’s purposeful improvisation becomes the object of attention. What mostly characterizes the effort, and ultimately renders it highly creditable, is the artists’ motivation in pursuing apparently impractical solutions and tortuous roads to arrive at conclusions that sound particularly digestible, despite the expected fearlessness and the nearly confrontational difficulty of some of the pieces (try scatting “Embarrassment Of Riches” and come home humbled). I don’t know if this stuff will manage to let the listeners “have (...) a second of reflection about our lives standing on this planet floating in the universe” (to quote the boss again). Sure enough the realization of the impossibility, for many so-called musicians, of letting their inner selves out at such level of expression is going to materialize after less than ten minutes, and returning to pedestrian renditions of standards and inadequate harmonic substitutions won’t be easy. (Aum Fidelity)

RODRIGO AMADO – Motion Trio

There’s a forward-looking intensity that permeates the interplay generated by the members of the Motion Trio (leader Rodrigo Amado on tenor sax, Miguel Mira on cello, Gabriel Ferrandini on drums). Their unfortified creative citadel welcomes all kinds of suggestion, which get retransformed and modified during lively fluxes of unfettered improvisation aiming to symbolize a vision more than defining a field of action. The Portuguese reedist’s enlightened skillfulness is manifest: he’s one of those natural-sounding, humble jazzmen whose main intent is the eradication of artistic insularity and genre-derived confinement. In “Testify!” he staggers and stutters across magnificently unaccomplished melodic ramifications, ensnaring us in an illusory sense of dislocated linearity quickly turning towards uncontaminated frankness. The pieces are punctuated by lumpy outbursts, chattering descriptions and peaceful recollections, a portrayal of gestural weightlessness that, on the contrary, emphasizes the imaginative impact. Mira and Ferrandini work eagerly within the context, remaining suspended between "unconstitutional" and "tolerable" as they provide a stable supply of pulsating energy to a music that – although clearly rooted in jazz – gradually seems to grow into a strange flying creature, ready to perplex and, ultimately, elicit admiration in those who observe its unusual, scheme-free fluttering. (European Echoes)

Marco Oppedisano, Early And Earlier

2010-02-22T11:21:00.000-08:00

Those who are into heavily processed guitars but still appreciate the value of bizarre orchestrations bathed in methodical (and often preposterous) abstractness should take a serious look at this man’s work, available at the OKSRNA website. These CDs were released in 2007 and 2008 respectively. Both are emblematic of Oppedisano’s qualities, which extend well beyond the curtain of effects and the bags of tricks under which he loves to hide his compositional chops. Hey, one doesn’t collaborate with David Lee Myers if there are no ideas in the brain.

MARCO OPPEDISANO – Electroacoustic Compositions For Electric Guitar

The only source besides what is mentioned in the title are an electric bass and a sampled female voice (courtesy of Kimberly Fiedelman in the funnily strange “Karmicom”). Heterodox pitilessness, celestial meanderings, timbral kinships and otherworldly correspondences are all found in this disc. Oppedisano gathers metals, rumbles, synthetic discharges and steamy distortion in a wonderfully incoherent vocabulary, characterized by a systematic refusal of remaining in the same place for more than ten seconds. Fastidiously arranged and executed, these sequences surprise, annoy and galvanize, even managing to extirpate a couple of appreciative laughs from this callous writer. We discern acumen and sense of humour which, mixed with the evident inquisitiveness of the protagonist (who’s not afraid of making music that sounds similar to a videogame soundtrack one moment and a cinematic trip the next) warrants several episodes of belligerently amusing paroxysm. Although the tapes collect tracks recorded in the 1999-2005 temporal frame, this feels like a concept album - which says a lot about its engenderer’s idealistic consistency. Atypically pertinacious, sporadically cheesy (in the right way), a few times enlightening, always abnormal stuff. The world needs it.

MARCO OPPEDISANO – The Ominous Corner

Once again, the lone protagonists are Oppedisano and Fiedelman (who this time is clearly audible in the spoken segments of “Renewal”). The array of machines utilized by the boss is slightly expanded, including radio, processed waveforms and MIDI instruments besides guitar and bass. I still have to grasp the reason behind my more-than-moderate contentment for this individualistic brew, which (de)ranges from heavily saturated, Vai-meets-Torn virtuosity to absolute mayhems where incessant sequences and complicated sci-fi convergences get interrupted by tear-in-the-black-sky openings of harmonic lights, repeated hints to galactic apprehensiveness and amusingly indiscreet hymns to renascence. The Ominous Corner presents the most technical side of this Italian-named American composer, and also his tendency to grandiloquence in several occasions: the irony that was present in various junctures of Electroacoustic Compositions is practically absent here. Yet one cannot but appreciate the incredible attention to every tiny detail and the sense of adventurousness, as Oppedisano attempts to redefine all roles in his six string-based architectures. The fact that he’s a technically superior instrumentalist constitutes a spicy ingredient of the recipe, certainly not a hindrance. Somewhat bombastic, but extremely accurate and often simply stunning music that didn’t succeed in boring me, which – given a typically difficult acceptance of axe-indulging paradoxes – equals success.

Valuable Or Less, Your Choice

2010-02-21T01:10:00.000-08:00

REHAB – Man Under Train Situation

John Hegre (guitar, electronics), Bjørnar Habbestad (flute, electronics). From the extreme electroacoustic provinces, a series of now thoroughly brutal, now more tranquil (but still menacing) explorations of the noisiest fringes of timbre with rare decipherable textures, mainly in the harsh-at-all-costs area. Many of the events sound rather circumstantial, and ever the developed sections appear a little too fragmentary to be remembered with real infatuation. The actual instruments are mostly kept unrecognizable, except for a handful of guitar emanations and a few flute-elicited pops and bubbles; radical feedback and severe distortion help to forget. Ferocious cut’n’paste, combustible liquids spilled all over the place, a general sense of lack of compromise. Yet not entirely satisfying and, at times, slightly inconclusive. Episodically interesting, nothing else. (+3DB)

THE RIGHT MOVES – The End Of The Empire

Ninni Morgia (guitar, Casio), Stuart Popejoy (bass), Kevin Shea (drums). Over forty minutes of axe-centered improvisation packing a solid punch overall, but not enough devastating - or simply creative - to let us cry miracle. Morgia’s shimmering resonances, howling snarls and sporadically cantabile lines would like to depict something between inconsolable and illuminating, partially succeeding. The walloping mass of low frequencies elicited by Popejoy meshes well with the grumbling percussive initiatives of Shea, who is calmer here than in other settings we have heard him in. A few sections are cohesive and right to the point; others are quite a bit on the noodle-doodle side of things. I also tried it as an active soundtrack while watching a boxing fight on DVD, and – believe it or not - it worked better that way. Essentially, this music is moderately appreciable as a bulk; yet if one looks for further details, there’s not too much to really exult for. (Ultramarine)

CHRISTIAN VASSEUR – Alam + Poèmes Saturniens

A French musician who specializes on guitars with a larger number of strings than the norm, and in addition is technically adept on the Renaissance lute; in fact, he exclusively utilizes a 14-string archlute in Alam. These are separate releases but work better if listened consecutively, in order to have a handle on the overall vision of an artist definitely gifted with a consistently throbbing heart besides an irrefutable digital prowess. The lute album is inevitably oriented towards a classical language, but it doesn’t sound decayed or musty for a moment. One appreciates both the structure and the kindness of the pieces, and the composer’s ability to touch the right spots in the listener’s individual mood. Poèmes Saturniens is a good record as well, in which we perceive a slight veil of peripheral influence (Ralph Towner and Egberto Gismonti in particular, if only in short spurts) and lots of nascent suggestions that often remain not completely expressed yet they’re all the more fascinating for this very reason. It is interesting to note that Vasseur works, among other social classes, with disabled adults and children; the human responsiveness necessary for this kind of job indisputably transpires from his unpretentiously emotive music, which he occasionally emphasizes through murmured vocalizations. (Humming Conch)

MIGUEL A. GARCIA – Armiarmak

Miguel A. Garcia (mixer, mics, sines). A two-year old album that, on a superficial listen, may sound like a thousand others but that instead needs repeated attempts to infiltrate a depth that goes well beyond the merely experimental surface. Interesting progress on a compositional level: sonic derivations that appear from nothingness, establish a milieu (mainly centered around a mixture of microsounds, buzzing and humming emissions, semi-silences and subtle interferences, the whole suffused in continuously shifting dynamics). Sheer data succeeding frame by frame in a cold logic of brain stimulation that might result welcome (here it was for sure) or aggravating, if the audience is not practiced in this kind of listening. On the other hand, Armiarmak could appeal – at least partially - to drone maniacs (the title track is excellent at that) and practitioners of headphone-based, blank-stare entrancement. The closing “Itapoa”, comprising looped sounds by Rafael Flores, is a particularly intriguing finale. That your partner will appreciate this CD - especially at significant volume - is not a given. I did. (RMO)

DANIEL LENTZ – Point Conception

Arlene Dunlap, Bryan Pezzone (piano). In the 80s your reviewer was literally mesmerized by Lentz’s Missa Umbrarum but as the years went by he gradually lost passion with his music, in spite of occasional beauties arising from a general harmonic easygoingness that, on the long distance, is hardly acceptable. Unfortunately Point Conception is not immune, in spite of the multi-piano modus operandi characterizing both scores. The almost 37 minutes of the title track (performed by Dunlap) are replete with superimposed overflowing arpeggios that - quite sincerely - become tedious after less than one third, and no technical dexterousness can transform an inconclusive composition in a masterpiece. Pezzone is featured in the much shorter – and definitely better – “Nightbreaker”, whose aura of mystery is unquestionably more rewarding to these ears even if the piece is still loaded with notes, not all of them really significant in its economy. Feldman zealots will do good in standing well clear off this record, while my impression of unfulfilled potentials when thinking about this composer returns with a vengeance. (Cold Blue)

MATHIEU RUHLMANN – Tsukubai + Funayūrei

Drones and water, water and drones. The first chapter in Mystery Sea’s subsidiary label comes from a man who has done good with past editions of his assemblages; that’s exactly what (barely) saves an otherwise pretty ordinary day at the office. To be precise, the fact that my promo copy came with a second CD (Funayūrei) that contains music superior to Tsukubai, the original release, helps considerably in not judging this as a completely useless outing. The latter was made with hydrophone recordings in a Vancouver garden: well placed gurgles and washes, plus the usual rustling and crackling appearances, occasionally accompanied by some kind of ethereal echo or from-the-underground stasis, Lustmord-style (minus the threatening factor). Nothing wrong but absolutely nothing innovative either, a one-in-a-thousand episode in this genre. The bonus disc comprises a 25-minute suite where the assistance of the fundamental vibration underlying the field work is more continuous, which is how things are rendered slightly interesting. It behaves nicely enough as an ambient complement, but in earlier times Ruhlmann was publishing better materials than these. The profundity of personal reminiscences doesn’t always translate into sonic impact, this being a classic case. (Unfathomless)

SEASONS (PRE-DIN) – Your Eyes The Stars And Your Hands The Sea

Under the “influences” spot on his MySpace page, Seasons (Pre-Din) declares “silence and the need for something to be there”. Given the proclivity to remain anonymous – couldn’t find a real name at a first googling, and quite sincerely didn’t waste excessive time for this – the elements for interesting stuff were all in attendance. This wonderfully titled album is indeed a satisfactory example of how it’s still possible to release music in a filled-to-capacity sector and managing to have someone who’s able to unmask a pretender in thirty seconds (that’s me) remaining interested for the total duration of the disc, in this case circa 38 minutes. Why? Because Mr. (Pre-Din) uses the same ingredients of a thousand of other dronescapers with a deeper respect for the listener’s latent inner quietness. According to Daniel Crokaert’s notes, the sources – besides the by now omnipresent field recordings and indeterminate voices from the ether – may comprise singing bowls, dulcimers, piano, guitars and orchestral loops. Not many direct resemblances to these instruments were detected, but beautiful sections humming ad infinitum yes, they are present in copious doses. And even the normal parts are less annoying than in the average productions of the equivalent class. Some intense subterranean quivering, a somewhat choral development of the droning mass and – voila – here’s a not really transcendental yet solid CD that will keep good company during your introverted reflective evenings. (Mystery Sea)

MOLJEBKA PVLSE – Aningan

The experts know what to expect from Mathias Josefson, the man behind one of the most diffused monikers in the dark ambient/isolationist area (these categories make me laugh nowadays, and I really don’t find a new way to define the genre anymore). Extensive durations, shifting scenarios, hundreds of tangled-and-processed sources, resonating metals, bottomless choirs, winds and seas. Again, factors that have already been employed thousands of times. But when personal sensitiveness kicks in – and Moljebka Pvlse is a very considerate artist among those heard in this territory – we get rewarded with beautiful music, at least aesthetically when not on deeper levels, and there’s no need to repeat once more the list of negatives (which in this occasion would be almost empty anyway). Thus enjoy this long aquatic/subterranean/ethereal adventure where radio interference, stretched guitars, hollow voices and natural emanations proceed in exquisitely intertwining settings, manipulated and chained in beguilingly morphing sequences by Josefson with his typical ability until the whole is definitively stabilized in entrancing quasi-stillness. Masses of scarcely comprehensible sounds that inch forward without doing damage, instead trying to involve the receiver’s attitude and impermanent mood. Not just a “sufficient”, but a dangerously near to “excellent” album indeed. (Mystery Sea)

Two With Henry Kaiser + Two On Balance Point Acoustics = Three???

2010-02-18T22:25:00.001-08:00

Yes, because one of the Balance Point Acoustics releases is the most recent solo outing by the Oakland eclectic. It didn’t go too well, to be honest.

HENRY KAISER – Where Endless Meets Disappearing

In order to wipe any misunderstanding away, let it be known that Kaiser is one of my heroes. I've listened to the large part of the man’s output and still am the happy owner of a good number of rare vinyl albums that he published decades ago, including the double LP Aloha (which, curiously, is not loved by its creator). That said, the splendidly titled When Endless Meets Disappearing - played on an array of electric and acoustic axes comprising a pair of 1890 relics – completely fails to convince me. It seems as if the protagonist had left a sizeable portion of the customary sting out of the equation, letting the machines - especially digital delays and pitch shifting devices - do the work on his behalf after he's entered a few notes, or the cocoon of a basic harmonic idea. Several episodes are constructed on the same droning bass + looped fragment + pentatonic-with-small-variations formula, with just a modicum of really "alternative" inventiveness; a couple of tracks might be exchanged for Robert Fripp outtakes, and there's a (hopefully involuntary) resemblance to Frank Zappa's "Outside Now" main vamp in “Three Can Keep A Secret, If Two Are Dead”. Apart from infrequent incidents – the polite “Maybe If Time”, the final “A Bloom Of Tiny Suns” - Kaiser looks uncertain about the directions to take, both musically and on the fingerboard. Strange - in particular from a man who once called a (great) album Hope You Like Our New Direction. This time we don't, and this is the first occasion in which that happens. What's going on here? We want our spiky HK back, dissonances, snapping strings, bent-behind-the-bridge harmonics and all. Or the bones of that Synclavier dinosaur. Marrying For Money, Devil In The Drain, the duets with Sergey Kuryokhin in Popular Science, remember? Let’s not even mention the masterpieces with Fred Frith, or precious gems such as It’s A Wonderful Life. This easier, comfortable version is not what was expected, and a handful of passionless semi-anarchic pills can’t save the day. Damn.

HENRY KAISER / BOB BRALOVE – Ultraviolet Licorice

Things go better in the collaboration with keyboardist Bob Bralove, who autonomously published this CD. Here we’re at least able to retrieve elements of the Kaiser of old, even when scattered amidst strange concoctions of crystal-clear piano, exotic/esoteric echoes and outer space synthesis that we tend to enjoy in any case, despite some obvious ingenuity. For example, those Korg presets seem to pop out everywhere, and the beginning of “Silence Is So Accurate” sounds amazingly similar to an (un-copyrighted) juvenile experiment of mine on the same brand of workstation. A couple of tracks exists where the will of experimenting something new is overwhelmed by the non-usable quality of the essential compositional ideas and, again, of the timbres. Anyway, HK manages to delight with a good number of those quirky, unpredictable adventures beyond conventional guitar-based wisdom, their preposterous character all the more welcome when juxtaposed to Stravinskian cadenzas or splashed in between meditative tunes typified by layers of static matters and Asian reminiscences (including by now trite samples of Buddhist monks and Indian tampuras). Still, he literally smokes in the instances where his trusty steel-stringed acoustic guitars are finally brought to the fore. Let's be entirely sincere: an unforgettable album this ain’t, and certain segments would work fine as a TV documentary soundtrack. Yet one can notice a tendency to an expression outside constriction that was blatantly missing in the noodle-in-slippers, Eventide-drenched easygoingness of the above reviewed solo disc. Thus, for now, we'll accept this while waiting to get our filthy hands on Plane Crash with Weasel Walter and Balance Point Acoustics’ honcho Damon Smith. That one should set the record straight.

YCLEPT - Yclept

Back to our (sometimes) beloved rasped strings, kneaded wood and – in general – overtone-eliciting activity with an album that features two artists I’m familiar with (trumpeter Birgit Ulher, also featured on “radio, mutes and speaker”, and the aforementioned Damon Smith on double bass and laptop) in conjunction with Israeli improvisers that I meet for the first time: saxophonists Ariel Shibolet and Adi Snir, guitar manipulators Roni Brenner and Michel Mayer and drummer Ofer Bymel. Yclept is an effort that exudes earnestness and thorough application by the involved parties. No risk of obsolescence in these methods - although there’s nothing here that has not been heard before on labels such as Creative Sources or Al Maslakh - because when the exchanges are active, attentive, reciprocally sensible like this, one could go on and listen for hours. This is legitimate EAI, where the proliferation of timbral byproducts is directly proportional to the keenness of the participants’ ears. The balance between empty space and slight inquietude is guaranteed by a careful dosage of the instrumental components: percussiveness, mumbled harshness, abrasion and moisture embellish an otherwise extremely sober setting. This music possesses traits of artlessness that contribute to rule out the impressions of dogmatic attitude too often present in many similar gatherings, for the musicians appear more interested in searching for attention-grabbing details than in letting a holy emptiness resonate in artistic vacuum. In that sense, this is an excellent CD that deserves repeated spins, fascinating to scrutinize attentively and useful as sonic complement when the house is quiet enough.

Moonjune Seven

2010-02-07T03:05:00.000-08:00

More goodies from Leonardo Pavkovic’s imprint, this time comprising not one but TWO Italian bands that I liked without second thoughts. Unbelievable but true.

D.F.A. – Fourth

Here is the first, a group from Verona (the name is an acronym for Duty Free Area) that apparently is tremendously in love with National Health, Bruford circa Feels Good To Me, and so forth. They play very well and with rare passion, a genuine devotion for their original influences clearly perceivable all along, guitarist Silvio Minella literally cloning Phil Miller’s tone in certain circumstances. The main composer, though, is drummer Alberto De Grandis, an excellent instrumentalist exactly as the remaining members, keyboardist Alberto Bonomi and bassist Luca Baldassarri. Haven’t heard D.F.A.’s previous releases but this is really pleasant, authentic, honest music whose passionate candour I welcome. The enthusiasm is contagious, the few ingenuities are forgivable (those synths à la Tony Banks, Wind And Wuthering-era must go, guys!) and the last track alone is worth of the whole CD: a poignant arrangement of the traditional song from Sardinia “La Ballata De S’Isposa ‘E Mannorri”, a jewel featuring the Italian Northettes (just kidding), namely the vocal trio Andhira. In this particular segment, Elena Nulchis, Cristina Lanzi and Egidiana Carta deliver refined nuances and complex counterpoints halfway through Bulgarian and Sardinian, touching the right strings of the heart whenever this grown-up kid listens to the tune. Also quite intriguing is the long suite “Mosoq Runa”; not a surprise that both the best tracks feature brilliant performances by cellist Zoltan Szabo and violinist Maria Vicentini. Fine stuff, give it a serious try – especially if you’re a nostalgic of late-seventies British progressive rock.

MORAINE – Manifest Density

Another ensemble with handfuls of “progressive” antecedents (Univers Zero, to quote just one of at least twenty heard in a single disc), led by guitarist Dennis Rea who – judging from his curriculum vitae – has collaborated with everyone except Igor Stravinsky and god. Other members are Ruth Davidson (cello), Alicia Allen (violin), Kevin Millard (bass and baliset) and Jay Jaskot (drums). Technically above reproach, the band crosses different settings and atmospheres without flinching, to the point of not letting us really understand where their right place is. There’s a smidgen of everything in there – composition, improvisation, jazz, rock, traditional Asian music (Rea used to live in China and Taiwan for extensive periods) – the whole expressed through typically circuitous scores whose preferred parts are the ones highlighting Davidson and Allen’s fine string textures. Still, having agreed to an approval nod to the unquestionable bravura of the group, this reporter is not overly enthusiast about the CD, exactly because of what I told a few lines above. Countless influences, not a definite personality: one could describe each piece like “it reminds of (put a name here)”. This means that after a couple of listens the “ah, OK” reaction is a given before the filing of the record in the “unmemorable” archive becomes a fact.

SOFT MACHINE – Drop

The 1971 version of Soft Machine featuring meteoric drummer Phil Howard captured live during that year’s German tour. Let’s call things with the right terms: the band – or, if so preferred, the record – smokes. If someone still needs to know why this group has been so influential over the years, a spin of Drop is all it takes. Crunchy sound quality overall, but solid improvisations upon a basis of obsessions and trippy riffs, Hugh Hopper at his very fuzzy best, Mike Ratledge generating the harmonic hyperlinks to perceptive stasis with customary sapience, Elton Dean sounding like an unlicensed shaman whose impervious lines indicate the way to real transcendence. Howard was a force of nature, an overwhelming mass of cymbals, rolling toms and omnipresent snare, not always keeping the pulse steady but terrifically effective; of course, after a while he was felt as excessively consuming in the group’s economy, therefore all that remains of him on disc is this set and the first half of Fifth. This is one of those CDs who would transform even the most self-collected cynic into a foot-tapping head-banger. Keep this playing at full steam in the Discman (…iPod? What’s that?) and it’s highly probable that your neighbouring travellers are going to look at you with a modicum of worry (“is this guy nuts or is it just Parkinson?”). Say no more. A must.

SLIVOVITZ – Hubris

How does Mr. Pavkovic uncover all these excellent groups from my own native country? Hailing from Naples, Slivovitz – named after their favourite drink – arrive at the second outing since beginning in 2001, and Hubris is indeed a particularly bright one, belonging among the best Italian albums ever heard in this house, and as a rule I’m not that tender with compatriots. A seven-piece ensemble (bassist Domenico Angarano, drummer Stefano Costanzo, guitarist Marcello Giannini, vocalist Ludovica Manzo, harmonica player Derek Di Perri, saxophonist Pietro Santangelo and violinist Riccardo Villari), these people managed to surprise your scribbler with over 70 minutes of absolutely brilliant arrangements and extraordinarily tight playing, mixing lounge jazz, Klezmer in tomato sauce, Arabian and African hues, faint echoes from the Mediterranean Sea, movie soundtrack-like evocativeness - plus an awful lot of other ingredients (take a look at the group’s MySpace to understand). This kind of fusion is extremely palatable, sunny, humorous, not reeking with the fetor of those stale jazz/rock progressions that myriads of heroin-cum-Scientology fuelled zombies have been reiterating bald-facedly for five decades now and that, listened today, make me want to puke. Nothing’s out of place here instead, the instrumental mix practically unblemished. Well - there’s actually a minor track (still acceptable, though), a funky groove called “Stress” which is also the only that features dialectal vocal parts, and – in a particular line - curiously recalls the main riff to Neapolitan singer Pino Daniele’s 1978 song “Il Mare”. Everyone sounds great throughout yet I’ll give a symbolic honourable mention to Villari, who would not be a bad substitute for Jerry Goodman in the earlier incarnations of Mahavishnu Orchestra. These guys are serious players, musicians with the capital M, very competent even on difficult composed metres (check the 7/16 of “Dammi Un Besh O”). When I recall that, for example, the former members of PFM – a historic name for Italy as far as technically advanced music was once concerned – are a significant component of the national television establishment these days (you know who rules there, don’t you?) providing horribly cheesy soundtracks for government-approved news bulletins and shows for retards, then a band such as Slivovitz - who closes the recording with a spoken conversation along the lines of “if we play good enough, then we can go touching the girls’ tits” – must be seriously considered. Given the amazing dexterity shown in this CD, the reward should be a date with Vanessa Del Rio.

ELTON DEAN & THE WRONG OBJECT – The Unbelievable Truth

Although the level of musicianship of the participants is quite high, The Unbelievable Truth represents the sheer documentation of a live meeting between two reciprocally respectful artistic sides and should only be considered as such - nothing more, nothing less. Dean was well practiced on some scores previously sent to him by guitarist (and lone TWO’s composer) Michel Delville, but when the parts finally met – in Paris, October 2005 - no actual rehearsal had been possible due to technical problems to the Belgian quintet’s van, which broke down while they were travelling. Therefore, the concert went on with a hypothetical “without-a-net” feel, the players having to perform pieces written by both composers. This notwithstanding, the large part of what’s heard sounds instead pretty much confined within a somewhat secure “riff-theme-solo” scheme that doesn’t allow too many Pindaric flights, the music often recalling an elegant jam session rather than a heartfelt effort. Listening to Dean’s inimitable style is always a pleasure, though, and thinking that he died shortly thereafter makes us a little indulgent towards a release that, in another occasion, would not adequately warm our heart, and that even in this circumstance is felt as a “neither here nor there” kind of statement, if decently rendered on an instrumental point of view. That said, if you really want to remember who this reedist was, get a copy of the above reviewed Drop – or just go back and listen to National Health’s “Portrait Of A Shrinking Man” on D.S. Al Coda.

SIMAK DIALOG – Patahan

I had moderately appreciated the previous outing Demi Masa by this Indonesian ensemble led by keyboardist Riza Arshad, but this live set from 2005 in Jakarta is a little too easy on these ears on the one side, and pretty tiresome on the other – especially, sorry to report, when singer’s Emy Tata overstretched improvised vocalizations are involved. The East/West mixture of instrumental nuances (also definable as “gamelan meets soft fusion”) works only in rare occasions this time, and frequently we dangerously approach territories bordering with a Pat Metheny/Lyle Mays all-smiles comfortableness that just doesn’t do justice to the technical and spiritual quality of musicians who are surely capable of going much deeper than this. Compared with the finest among the recordings analyzed in this batch, Patahan stops its ascension at least a couple of floors below.

DELTA SAXOPHONE QUARTET – Dedicated To You… But You Weren’t Listening

The splendid versions of “Facelift” (Gilbert Artman should like it), “Everything Is You” and “The Floating World” - the latter one of my all-time Soft Machine favourites – are enough to let your reviewer declare that this CD must be played often and loud. On the other hand, “Outrageous Moon” – featuring Morgan Fisher’s incorporeal electronic-enhanced vocals – would have been better left out of an otherwise nearly immaculate program. Still, there’s no question that this earnest homage to the Machine Molle by DSQ is chock full of hard-to-forget moments: the magnificent “Epilogue”, closing the record, leaves us wanting for more following over a hour of adroit performance. And not simply well-executed renditions, also variations and additions on celebrated pieces, impeccably designed and delivered by Graeme Blevins (soprano), Chris Caldwell (baritone), Tim Holmes (tenor) and Pete Whyman (alto). In “Mousetrap” they boldly quote both Reich’s “Eight Lines” (aka “Octet”) and Zappa’s “King Kong”; in “Noisette” I even found myself catching a Duran Duran similarity – precisely with “Save A Prayer” – but I’m almost convinced that it is a coincidence (keep me posted, though: that song is not bad after all). The late Hugh Hopper directly contributes bass guitar and loops in the above mentioned “Facelift”. Mainly gorgeous stuff.

Entranced At The End Of January

2010-01-30T14:07:00.000-08:00

ADRIAN SHENTON – Houseworks

An unassuming, but interesting enough recording mainly constructed with – guess what – sounds from the composer’s house. Mostly tending to the drone area (Shenton had released his first record on Ian Holloway’s Quiet World), the CD does contain a handful of absorbing moments. “Househum” is a rather involving hypnotic growth of not-so-gentle superimpositions of static buzz, powerful subsonic pulse and other indefinable layers, “When Swoosh Comes To Shove” a paradigmatic dark ambient episode with reverberant percussive traits and ominous tones. Then, a few environmental niceties with birds and all the rest, an abstract electronica-cum-musique concrete finale (“The Epic Journey To The Garage Door”) and an overly lengthy track - “Beating The Bounds” - that was better left in the vault, as it unfortunately diminishes the record’s otherwise higher mark of at least two points. If you cut off that piece from your listening session, this is a good work for its genre. (Phonospheric)

CELER – Pockets Of Wheat

The newest Celer album at the moment in which I’m writing is yet another example of how a multitude of instruments and field recordings (plus the voice of the late Danielle Baquet-Long) can become, through opportune processing, a mental balm where no one of these sources is discernible. Will Long is releasing records at a rate that, were we not sure of their quality, would be alarming. But documenting his and Dani’s activity is a mission that cannot be left unaccomplished, and we’re ever happy to listen and get mesmerized, because this is the best static ambience that you might find today: simply conceived, extremely linear in its unfolding, penetrating the inside defences without the need of imposing anything. Hazily luminescent resonances destined to be absorbed just before going to sleep at the end of the umpteenth day full of considerations about the worthlessness of many of our daily gestures, neuroses and human meetings. Pockets Of Wheat is a specimen of true therapeutic radiance, always welcome when the seriousness of the people who created it is a fundamental element. (Soundscaping)

OIER I.A. - Dedalu

Thirty minutes of complex stillness. A contradiction? Maybe, but this is exactly what happens in Dedalu, originally a net release on Larraskito and now available on a humble CDR. This music wouldn’t be out of place on a label like Antifrost, as it made me think of Ilios, AS11 - you get the point, the Greek danger zone of hypnotic electronic/processed sounds, frequently with an acutely gritty edge. Yet Oier Iruretagoiena - aka Oier I.A. - is obviously a Basque. Unrecognizable sources, and that’s a fact. Increasing tension despite the scarce movement, frequencies that don’t look so menacing at first, but do sting: at the end of the disc - and the volume isn’t even that high - my ears are behaving halfway through ring and gurgle, as if they were filled by an invisible liquid. Quite often the sonic mass elicits aural hallucinations, according to which I heard organ chords and voices in the acute register. Never believe your dishonest brain when electroacoustic stupor is involved. This man knows what he’s doing, I can feel it. A candidate for infinite repeat: a single concept throughout, applied with intelligent inflexibility. No holiday-card echoes from remote lands, no extensive reverbs, no bullshit as Phill Niblock would have it. Grab a copy of this one and get lost in a mental maze. (Self Released)

JOÃO LUCAS – Abstract Mechanics

Fascinating semi-solid conceptions for piano, accordion and electronics (Lucas) and a delightfully evocative cello (Miguel Mira). The soundtrack to Era Uma Coisa Mesmo Muito Abstracta - a choreography by Andresa Soares - Abstract Mechanics is a work of uncomplicated digestibility despite the involvedness of some of its parts. An unambiguously poetic music, either used to highlight a (probably very intriguing) series of dance figures or enjoyed as a musical piece per se. Lucas and Mira explore the instrumental registers with a combination of obsession and scientific curiosity, alternating passages bordering on the romantic side of things (never deprived of surprising factors) with moments of apparent scarcity of rationality permeated by a larger use of improvisation and discordance. But they always manage to fall straight on their feet as one realizes that the tumbles were just picturesque tricks, the couple remaining entirely aware of where the music is going. A passionate yet at the same time light hearted performance, emanating scents of transcendence but also revealing a painstaking care for the sonic details. The fact that this writer has not been able, in about six listens, to compare the material to anything else in recent memory should tell a lot. Perhaps those who recall Joachim Kühn’s playing on Carolyn Carlson’s Dark will find something here that might gratify their taste. Just a faraway association, though. (Creative Sources)

A Pair Of Not So Recent Clean Feeds

2010-01-27T12:05:00.001-08:00

With many more to come (…). This makes me think that roundup reviews are not so useful after all. In the future I won’t wait for publishing a write-up until having listened eight CDs of the same label. It’s probably better to break them in smaller groups, or it could take years…

TRINITY – Breaking The Mold

A Norwegian quartet mingling dissimilar influences – jazz, space rock, harsh electronica – through predominantly jarring procedures that could appear scarcely lucid on a first try, but instead let slip a substantial degree of imagination. Ultimately, and most important, Trinity don’t sound like anything else (at least in the Clean Feed catalogue). All the four members have gone through the most disparate kind of collaboration: Jaga Jazzist to Mats Gustafsson, Raoul Bjorkenheim to Nate Wooley, the leader – saxophonist and clarinettist Kjetil Møster – a metal rock bassist in his past, before switching to reeds. Implausible yet efficient solutions abound, powerful sax blasts juxtaposed with half-ethereal, half-acrid atonal keyboard fluids (Morten Qvenild) that possess the rare gift of not sounding like an amassment of presets. The “rhythm section” – bassist Ingebrigt Håker Flaten and drummer Thomas Strønen – is in actuality half of a palette where abstraction, violence, rituality and persuasive soloing succeed, seemingly in lack of a definite compositional planning. The complete nonexistence of ambassadorial accents and inconclusively politic neutrality typical of a fat chunk of contemporary jazz brings the whole to an acceptable balance, though. After a couple of spins one realizes that these bizarre sonic concoctions cannot be filed in the archive of banality, despite the difficulty of welcoming them with real infatuation. In any case Trinity deserve attention, if only for their different sound and explorative curiosity.

HERCULANEUM – Herculaneum III

Given the presence of a flute (Nate Lepine) and the album title, one would think about Focus. But this record is more like a finely detailed replica of certain past atmospheres involving medium-sized jazz combos and larger orchestral entities, the music skilfully devised in absolute respect for the tradition, lush arrangements and extensive solo sections alternated with sapience and sensitiveness. The large part of the tracks were written by drummer and vibraphonist Dylan Ryan, which might appear as an oddity but it’s not, the music possessing indeed an effervescent pulse that animates scores where, in some circumstances, the tremendous contrapuntal richness might induce someone to think to relative sluggishness. In that sense, David Mcdonnell (alto sax, clarinet), Nick Broste (trombone) and Patrick Newbery (trumpet and flugelhorn) provide a significant miscellany of non-invasive colloquialism and management of virtuosity, gratifying the ears with a melange of piquancy and obedience. Guitarist John Beard’s clean-toned rationality and bassist Greg Danek’s solidly corpulent presence complete an ensemble that consider revolution a dated concept while trying to revolutionize behind-the-times music. One can’t help but admit that listening to this attempt equals a lovely chat with a beautifully aged woman; even lovers of Frank Zappa’s The Grand Wazoo could find something palatable here. Good stuff.

Clean Feed

Thirty Minutes (Or Less)

2010-01-17T11:43:00.000-08:00

RADU MALFATTI – Wechseljahre Einer Hyäne (To Ulrich Krieger)

Performed by Intersax (Ulrich Krieger, Martin Losert, Tobias Rüger and Reimar Volker), this composition for 2 x baritone, alto and soprano saxophones by Malfatti is among the most fascinating I’ve heard from his repertoire (which, admittedly, is not exactly my specialization). This recording is dated 2003 and was captured live at Berlin’s Podewil. Amidst the expected silences (in this case we can really say that, thanks to an excellently behaved audience who literally seems to hold their breath during the execution) gently blown clusters of the peaceful kind materialize at different times - sometimes closer than one would expect - over the course of 30 minutes, fading neon signs involuntarily trying to indicate the right way to a lost soul in a street at late night. When those murmured chords vanish, a single saxophone maintains a note a little longer, remaining alone for a few instants to nail the meaning of that figure to the ground. I don’t know if it depends on your reporter’s not exactly sundrenched mood in a gloomy, coldly plumbeous Sunday afternoon, but the piece results an ideal sonic complement to the aura of pessimistic resignation which has been lingering in the house for a while today, and that someone – not me, though – might associate with a pre-death sensation, like if everything that’s made appeared as a waste of time, the living organism just going through the motions to arrive at tomorrow. The intrigue of life also lies in the correct mental management of similar moments, and the music is very effective in that sense – especially when enriched by the circumstantial noises coming from afar. (Et Le Feu Comme)

SAP(e) featuring BERNHARD GÜNTER – Improvisation

The trio of Aurélien Besnard (clarinet), Christophe Devaux (electric guitar) and Guillaume Contré (laptop) moves around the regions where concentrated instrumental tampering borders with micro-sonic extemporaneity; that’s why the presence of Günter – here on pocket trumpet, clarinet and effects – appears as virtually perfect for the occasion. The interchange between the artists is informed by a constant impression of unexploded intensity, mainly characterized by timbres seemingly unwilling to depart from the grey area between corroded metal and suburban dimness. The only instantly identifiable voice comes from Devaux’s intimately miked strings, from which knotty snippets, luminescent oxidation and quiet drainage raise their small heads amidst brain-cuddling longer tones emitted by the reeds. The computer’s activities are clearly discernible but not overstated, the lone exception a looped fragment that disappears ten seconds after having entered the audio frame. An odd sense of organic liquidness permeates a sizeable part of this appealing work, whose persuasiveness ultimately resides in its capacity of holding our concentration in a grip without pauses, halfway through tangible matter and sinister reflectivity. (Et Le Feu Comme)

PIERRE GERARD – Plateaux (For Gilles Deleuze)

The common denominator of this three-headed review is Pierre Gerard, a Belgian composer who also happens to be the boss of the above linked Et Le Feu Comme net label. In keeping with the typical Koyuki standards Plateaux is very minimal, both in the sonic and the graphic design (the latter courtesy of Luigi Turra). The inexpert ear could easily position it in the undeserved company of less significant onkyo-derived releases, yet this would be terribly wrong, as Gerard knows what he’s doing much better than hundreds of so-called “alternative” artists. His sense of event placing is astonishingly acute: there’s not a moment in the whole album in which a sound appears unnecessary or unwanted in that particular instance. Speaking of tone and timbre, he masterfully alternates vapour and grain, sequences of hovering low-frequency “presences” interspersed with jagged interruptions and piercing interferences, like needles waking us up from a hypnotic illusion. One feels isolated and enraptured at the same time, the practical incapability of defining the sources of these undersized daydreams an actual advantage. This mixture of dynamic activity, extreme accuracy and mesmerizing minimization of nervous peaks - clocking at the perfect length of half a hour - should not be left disregarded. (Koyuki)

Three On Mutable

2010-01-11T21:48:00.000-08:00

TOM HAMILTON – Local Customs

When it comes to finding new relations and correspondences between the world’s regular occurrences and a musical idea, Tom Hamilton is unquestionably among the most inquisitive minds around. After having composed works based on the index of stock and gold markets, this time he relied on his “electronic harmony generator” and a small ensemble comprising Jacqueline Martelle (flute), Richard Cohen (clarinets), James Martin (trombone), Terry Kippenberger (contrabass) and Rich O’Donnell (percussion) to concoct five pieces whose basic structures derive from “coding and recoding various readings, investigations and experiences during a summer residency in Italy”. The result is somewhat strange, although definitely refreshing. The contiguity of sumptuous acoustic timbres with the clearly (voluntarily?) “plastic” quality of the electronic presets is at times difficult to swallow, to the point that one thinks that the combination was so conceived to add a pinch of irony to the composition. In a couple of instances I was slightly reminded of Andrew Poppy’s The Beating Of Wings, but don’t consider this quote as a parallelism. What strikes positively – and ultimately wins the game – is the enthralment generated by the contrapuntal redemption which the different instruments elicit, often unexpectedly; music where the balance of mild heteromorphism and utter transparency is nearly perfect, offering repeated chances to the listener to react sympathetically to something that is felt as familiar and bizarre at once.

BORAH BERGMAN / STEFANO PASTOR – Live At Tortona

Italy is again heavily involved in this superb set featuring bionic-fingered Bergman (77 this year…) and a violinist from Genoa, a big surprise for yours truly who never met him previously. Pastor’s style is a cross of sorts between Stephane Grappelli and Don “Sugarcane” Harris, born from an extensive period of experimentation culminated in the adoption of hard-tension electric guitar strings on the violin, thus obtaining a hoarse kind of sound which recalls those wind instruments from which Stefano was principally influenced during the formative years. This doesn’t detract from the astonishing poignancy that those lines evoke, chains of call-and-response jewels with Bergman literally touching the soul’s deepest depths. The pianist is obviously his usual extraordinary self, the legendary independence of the hands generating coordinated movement halfway through a Nancarrow piano roll and the purest poetry that the human ear can listen to. He seems to wander carelessly along the keyboard at supersonic speed then, all of a sudden, lets us realize that an eye had been left open, masterfully returning to the tune’s foundation with supreme nonchalance sprayed with unequalled technical elevation. A welcome extra presence in the recording is the local bell tower, whose tolling appears several times to add further magic to the duo’s exchanges. Ultimately, it’s the strong logic of insightful personal research shared by the couple that allows this music to shine, placing Live At Tortona at the inner edges of an elite neighbourhood.

JB FLOYD / THOMAS BUCKNER / GEORGE MARSH – In Crossing The Busy Street

Floyd defines himself as “pianist, composer, improviser”, this album ideally representing a showcase of all three characters fused into a sole entity. In Crossing The Busy Street is practically conceived like two mini LPs in a single CD, the first with baritone Thomas Buckner, the second with drummer George Marsh. The basic materials are the pieces with the former, duos for piano and voice whose lyrical content derives from a poem by Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore. This is the place where I personally prefer to stay, the singer’s unique delivery characterizing the ravishing chord inversions spelled by Floyd’s hands over the course of eight mainly magnificent tracks. The music’s temperament is at the same time tenderly melancholic and intellectually bright, each part characterized by a peculiar solution which inserts an element of slight discordance – still extremely digestible – in an otherwise completely fluid harmonic itinerary. There are repeated moments of poignancy here, and the overall feel is one of total gratification at the end. The duets with Marsh, which originate from improvisations and variations on some of the existing chapters, are certainly gifted with style and poise, yet they lack a bit of the emotional intensity of the exchanges with Buckner. Piano and drums gel quite well, but the jazzier vibe appearing every once in a while renders the whole a little more “normal” to these ears, deprived of the enchantment that the sung verses had generated. However, this remains a fascinating document of refined musicianship. But if there’s a reason behind the necessity of owning this disc, it surely resides in the original material.

Mutable

Cold Rain Medley

2010-01-09T10:48:00.000-08:00

A small selection of diverse recordings, either relatively recent or from up to two years ago. All of them were examined during one of the most horribly damp, bone-freezing Januaries that I can remember of.

OLD DOG – By Any Other Name

The stunning photograph adorning the inner leaflet of this CD, a group portrait of the entire staff of an olden circus, is only a part – admittedly important - of a generally satisfying package. The rest consists of contemporary jazz, finely executed by Louie Belogenis (tenor sax), Karl Berger (vibes, piano), Michael Bisio (bass) and Warren Smith (drums). The bassist and the saxophonist share the compositional duties, five pieces and four respectively. A precise stability between tradition and modernity is achieved right away, Belogenis’ confident forthrightness taking instant command of the operations. His lines – impenitently prattling one moment, pronouncedly sweet the next – constitute the guide lights that lead the quartet across extensive moments of articulate creativity, both in the extra-tight execution of gaunt themes and in the technical blooming of the solo sections. Bisio and Smith are known quantities, providers of a mannerly pulse that, however, leaves room to several discursive circumlocutions during the episodes in which free will attempts to rule. Berger represents a jolly of sorts, well-placed outbursts explicated through a level-headed-yet-spirited pianism (which is what this reviewer preferred to hear) and rather talkative, though a little more predictable vibraphone flurries. The clear definition of the instrumental details - the consequence of a near-perfect recording - wipes out the sense of humdrum that usually turns the analysis of countless jazz albums into a chore to avoid. (Porter)

TIAGO SOUSA & JOÃO CORREIA – Insónia

These pieces, composed by Sousa (who plays piano, guitars and organ, while Correia only handles the drumming chores) and recorded in a bedroom, are imbued with sadness. This could be OK for starters; the problem – at least to these ears – lies in the fact that they also appear, for the large part, both overly consonant (read: predictable) and permeated by a sort of stretched-out glumness, like if the producers were trying to manufacture a mood that must necessarily emerge as pessimistic - somewhat unnaturally, in a way. Although certain atmospheres, always informed by a dismal temper, would be useful as cinematic commentaries, the playing often sounds quite undeveloped (an exception being Ricardo Ribeiro’s clarinet, when it appears). There’s a measure of “barely tuned piano” infelicity here, a pinch of “long-gone-times” melody there, slow movements and invariable mournfulness all over the place. For my personal inclination, all of the above doesn’t work well enough; however, I’m sure that people less punctilious than myself will love the “poor man’s Tim Story” aura that hovers around during the playback. Since it’s a downloadable album, decide for yourselves. (Humming Conch)

FRANÇOIS CARRIER / MICHEL LAMBERT / JEAN-JACQUES AVENEL – Within

Saxophonist Carrier (here on alto and soprano) is an instrumentalist who gives the idea of having everything under control even in the most liberated sections of his improvisational course, the phrases always flowing effortlessly, exclusive of great surprises yet perennially serene, strongly rooted in some kind of superior ideal. This set with Lambert on drums and Avenel on bass, recorded at the Calgary Jazz Festival in 2007, constitutes a good example of unpretentious jazz that respects the tradition and (carefully) attempts to look beyond certain borders at one and the same time. The trio is not infatuated with unwarranted difficulties and labyrinthine investigations: as Avenel – a splendid arco player, if you ask me - and Lambert create instant junctions and rhythmic diversifications without saturating the aural space, Carrier navigates the waters of creative melody with confidence and inspiration, never affecting the music’s tranquil pacing with unnecessary boisterousness. Overall, this is a hour of well perceptible spiritual bonding, three musicians who let their inner peace prevail upon the obvious technical adroitness, the music – although not reaching the rank of an actual classic – definitely benefiting from this approach. (Leo)

MICHEL LAMBERT / RAKALAM BOB MOSES – Meditation On Grace

Speaking of spirit, this album sounds more as a celebration than a momentous artistic statement, although the participants (and other presumed experts) might censor what I’m saying - and maybe they’d be right, who knows. But stay with me, please. Lambert was the meeting’s instigator: being the protagonists both drummers and painters, he wanted to see how Moses’ “powerful drum language and expression with his intriguing visual art style would interplay with my sound and images iconographies”. The recording was made in a single torrid afternoon of July 2004 at Moses’ home in Quincy, Boston. That these men are A-grade players is out of the question; this writer’s problem, after seeing the program’s duration of over 70 minutes, was “how am I going to accurately appraise something for which my grounding is probably insufficient?”. Then the music started, the eyes closed and the memory went back at early childhood, where everything found who had some percussive character would become an instant source of beat, to the point that a toy drum set – bought by two desperate parents – became my very first instrument. The secret behind this CD is unveiled at last, the keyword is “go with the flow”. Listening to Meditation On Grace without thinking about the technical aspect of things - merely enjoying the music’s essence, nearly ritual temperament and multiform shapes - rendered the experience positively congenial. Forget drums, Lambert and Moses are great musicians, the strong link they have developed detectable throughout. So, while this record will never be considered as unforgettable here, it is nevertheless a good demonstration of the way in which preconceptions try to obstruct the freedom of the mind. (FMR)

SCISSOR SHOCK – Synonym For The Word Decay

Adam Cooley (vocals, programming, guitars, xylophone, marimba, saxophone) and Aaron Booe (trombone, double bass, keyboards, bells) are nuts, but nice. If I recall correctly, a couple of years ago they had already sent another scribbled CDR like this, which was not reviewed. Perhaps this is better or it made me laugh enough, at least for a while, so here we are. The guys, as (probably) per their name’s intention, make music where the cut-and-paste factor is fundamental. Everything, and I mean everything, is sliced, fragmented, crumbled, disassembled and shaken into a gazillion of snippets characterized by completely spastic rhythms and assorted harmonic/melodic absurdities, with sporadic and basically unintelligible rants “sung” by Cooley with a (modified?) snotty-brat tone. The only defect is that the pieces, on the long distance, tend to sound quite analogous in the basic conception. Yet one benefits from a degree of genuine fun, and some of the titles are alone worth a mention (“Psychic Vision Of A Strangulated Woman Who Is Missing Her Shoe” and “Johnny Merzbow Is Dead” my favourite ones). The real throwaway tracks are “Fahey Ghost” and “Ghost Fahey”: irony aside, that’s not the way to torture a fucking guitar, Adam. (Seizure)

Trumpets, Noisy Pulsations, Advanced Pop And A Wonderfully Unclassifiable Fricassee

2010-01-06T06:47:00.000-08:00

AMY HORVEY – Interview

A young virtuoso of the trumpet (she was born in 1980) who has worked with Pierre Boulez among others, Horvey presents works from different composers, of which only Giacinto Scelsi I’m familiar with. The latter’s “Quattro Pezzi Per Tromba Sola” are the best introduction to the artist’s outstandingly eminent know-how, her timbre a thing of beauty – control and restraint mixed with eloquent intensity. After this fine start, the program swiftly tends to an area of music which is experimental but not in a really innovatory way, thus hindering a little our full appreciation of the protagonist’s irrefutable qualities. Two pieces – Anna Höstmann’s “Interview”, dedicated to pioneer trumpeter Edna White, and Ryan Purchase’s “Apparatus Inconcinnus” make use of spoken fragments amidst the instrumental lines; the final “Overture To The Queen Of The Music Boxes” is an interesting parallelism between Horvey delivering a klezmer melody against Jeff Morton’s small mechanical universe made of toy boxes, toy instruments and electronics. Cecilia Arditto’s “Musica Invisibile” is instead almost entirely forgettable: a dusty, old-sounding piece that manages to render even the employment of extended techniques uninteresting, if not annoying. With a better repertoire, Amy Horvey will definitely shine. (Malasartes)

BASELINE – Estado Liquido

This was sent in 2008, one of the many items to which this reviewer arrives with indefensible delay. Basically we’re dealing with low-frequency pulse music, sometimes on the droning side, otherwise rhythmically defined by some kind of “recurrence” (including a heartbeat - I believed that Pink Floyd were the last to use it, in 1973’s The Dark Side Of The Moon. Hey, just kidding). The record grows rather nicely on the listener – especially in the first half – and can definitely be digested without excessive remorse. Then again, it’s not something that made me raise the head and stop breathing, if you get my point. Had the “regular” rhythms been left out - thus avoiding a sense of ordinariness typical of certain cheap pseudo-industrial entities, to which Baseline don’t seem to belong – and the throbbing resonances developed in a deeper way, this would have amounted to an almost excellent release. It still works, but only in spurts. Too bad. (RMO)

THE RATIONAL ACADEMY – Swans

Producer Lawrence English has, once again, done a great job with this group, always an extremely pleasurable listen in their brand of refined pop slightly contaminated by mildly noncompliant arrangements. This EP – nineteen minutes total – is all the more laudable, for several reasons (including the duration!). The short tracks are fused together, following one another in a single flux like in a concept album; the straightforwardness of the compositions is enhanced by willowish sonic combinations that valorise the instrumental nuances (especially the guitars, whose timbral range spans from fuzzy layers of creamy meta-Frippery to cleaner arpeggios generating suggestive reverberations). English’s hand does the rest, the sum of his individual types of harmonic halos and slender resonances an added value. Music that might remain circumscribed to a certain kind of audience, but nevertheless can be frequently enjoyed also by an investigative listener like yours truly. (Someone Good)

PERFECT VACUUM – A Guide To The Music Of The 21st Century

This writer considers himself lucky when receiving obscure releases containing excellent works by many friends all over the world, and hopefully Lukas Simonis will forgive me if I dare to enclose him in the “friend” category, given that we never met personally (sure enough, this kind of relationship is much truer than counting on Facebook or MySpace’s “friends”. Incidentally, anyone noticed yet that Facebook is your way to being snowed under an avalanche of spam? End of parenthesis). The music of the 21st century – if you respect Simonis and Dave Marsh’s view – is still something to embrace very warmly. This 13-song cycle is absolutely exquisite, to the point that calling these little jewels “songs” doesn’t do a favour to their quality. They’re flawlessly trimmed but, at the same time, radically altered, definitely including large doses of improvised melange. Easy melodies get intertwined with dissonant crisscross, deviated New Orleans-style arrangements meshed with Beatles-derived acoustic simplicities, gentle choirs and fiendish rasps swapped according to the necessity of a particular section. The seaming of the different parts – because a single three-minute piece can contain up to a dozen of them – is so well executed that one would be almost justified in thinking “Zappa” during the quirky itineraries of selected fragments. A series of infringements of compositional rules that, absurdly, generate a music obeying to other imperatives: those of quick-minded entertainment informed by unadulterated musicianship. Rare commodities in today’s stereotyped “art”. Honourable mention to the extraordinary players who flank the main characters: Nina Hitz, Noortje Köhne, Colin McClure, Trend Watkiss, Ingeborg Muller, Nazmiya Ibrahim, Pascal Tabarnac. Keep’em coming, Lukas. (Acid Soxx)

A Japanese Poker On Taâlem

2010-01-03T22:00:00.000-08:00

Can’t remember if I already reviewed the second-to-last batch that Jean-Marc - boss of this label devoted to contemporary ambient and relative derivates - had sent me earlier (hopefully yes and, in any case, thanks JM!). Yet I managed to listen to these four several times, in different conditions. Speakers are highly recommended for all these 3-inch CDs.

CHIHEI HATAKEYAMA – White Sun

The best of the batch, and not by a little. A mesmerizing soundscape constructed upon gently wavering guitars that sound like if their wooden bodies were left to float in a placid sea under the summer sun. The winning card is constituted by the slight, but extremely effective harmonic shift occurring after 15 minutes or so which creates a fascinating movement in the music, thus rendering the piece a true composition that can live autonomously, beyond its ambient status. The plucked strings (some of them acoustic guitars, others perhaps kotos, the rest is there to be guessed) are very well deployed amidst the vapours, the consequent underlying reverberations unquestionably beautiful. Hatakeyama has already published records on Kranky, Spekk and Room40, and it shows.

POLLYPRAHA – Jule

A mixed bag that starts with an excessively tonal, if well crafted piece, continues with several minutes of absolutely useless processed liquid sounds (it could be an underwater recording, but it’s just ugly) and – luckily - ends with the best track, a calmly resonating stasis that, at low volume, is pleasant enough. Declared influences: Reich and Ligeti. I didn’t hear a second of them. Let’s not swear at the gods, please.

NATURE OF DISLOCATION – Elements

A multimedia artistic collective, the music created by Hiroki Sasashima and Takahisa Hirao. The first segment is an ethereal electronic suspension resembling thousands of similar ones, and that for good measure reveals horrific presets (something that, as you know, is very much hated here). Things get better with the subsequent tracks, always static yet quite alluring in their combination of pulse and choral motionlessness. The finale is a bit on the “invocation to the setting sun” side, still nicely droning for our relaxing pleasure. The whole is rather easy on the ears, yet there’s at least a degree of dignity (but those synthetic voices…oh, boy).

SAITO KOJI – Prayer

A plastic miniature replica of the perpetual looping brought to fame by William Basinski made with guitars and effects, superimposed and layered for 23 minutes. It goes on and on without changing, aesthetically acceptable but meaning absolutely nothing in terms of artistic weight. Useful (hardly) as a background wallpaper – which indeed is what ambient should always be, right? Frankly, I myself could release three CDs of similar stuff a day and maybe my economy would be a little better. Real prayers - and real music, which is the same - are completely different matters, you know.

Memories Of Mr. 23 (The Alfred Harth Chronicles)

2009-12-31T02:46:00.000-08:00

PARCOURS BLEU A DEUX - Die Kainitische Stadt Über Abels Gebeinen

Recout

Heinz Sauer (1932) ranks among the most prominent German saxophonists, a career including a number of significant collaborations with entities such as Albert Mangelsdorff, George Adams, Jack DeJohnette, Dave Holland, Globe Unity Orchestra. In 1990 Alfred Harth had organized 2324 FU, a retrospective exhibition of his own visual art at Frankfurt’s Dominikanerkloster, a renowned gallery situated within a cloister. What he envisioned was a concert with Sauer to be held in the cloister’s Holy Ghost Church (devoted to Albert Ayler, one thinks…). This is exactly what happened, and Parcours Bleu A Deux were born.

As A23H puts it in a typically puzzling description, “the spirit and the reverb was the challenge”. PBAD were not meant to be a simple reed duet, but a completely autonomous small acousmatic unit; to achieve this goal, prerecorded tracks (also involving the voice of Isabel Franke reciting passages from the Apocalypse) and electronic emanations were added to the recipe. The musicians were able to maneuver those splinters via foot pedals while playing, the surprise factor guaranteed by the unforeseen manifestation of elements that might be perceived as not pertinent at first, appearing instead perfectly integrated in the music’s general unrest in a matter of seconds.

This CD (rough translation of the title: “The city of Cain built upon Abel’s bones”) comprises 70 minutes of extracts from performances dated 1991 and 1992 in Frankfurt and Vancouver. The initial set is introduced by a Canadian female host who translates the duo’s name as “Blue Horse Ride Of Two People” (indeed “Blue Course” means a lot of other things; surf the web, and rest assured that AH had thought of something different from what you’ll find). It becomes instantly clear that the improvisations are gifted with a remarkable structural definition deriving from the almost visible resolve of the performers, who literally ostracize bewilderment and chaos in favour of a logical kind of disquieting turbulence, remaining inside the enclosure of focused contamination. The timbral mixture is practically stainless, broad shoulders and stinging efficiency alternated to squealing and chirping with the same naturalness of an actor’s change of stage dress in relation to the upcoming scene.

The couple provides an indicator of how a clever improvisation should be carried on, boosting the tension level with hard staccatos, increasingly nervous quodlibets and sudden theatrical exploits highlighted by the appearance of the above mentioned prearranged fragments (my preference directed to the amorphous synthetic backgrounds that occasionally steer the sonic microcosm towards even more mysterious territories, still sweetening the brutality of certain dissonant counterpoints). Harth adds a personal dose of visceral physicality and grotesque drama by grunting, blathering and sardonically laughing into the instrument’s conduits, halfway through a good-humoured fiend and a vainglorious joker deriding the audience’s intellectual capacity. All in all, this is a difficult but – as always – extremely gratifying record that must be listened with concentration at full steam: the substance is thick, the artistry is indubitable, the technical proficiency proportional to the emotional intensity, only if you grant the music the due attention. Using this stuff as conversational backdrop means losing the coordinates of rationality, and perhaps some friend.

Harth and Sauer collaborated again - together with other instrumentalists - in 1995 in the ambit of FIM (Frankfurt Indeterminables Musiqwesen, the umpteenth collective formed by the protagonist of this series) for a tribute to fellow Frankfurter Paul Hindemith. The short life of PBAD is just another question mark in the chain of “whys” that characterizes this man’s creative being; for sure not many saxophone duets sound as lucid, provocative and ironically eccentric as this.

Ogogo ??? Ogogo !!!

2009-12-29T22:24:00.000-08:00

A nice, mouth-filling name, recalling the disjointed muttering of infant children when they learn to speak. In reality, Ogogo is the pseudonym of Igor Grigoriev, whose calling card reads so: “igOr – music, guitars”. The man has a funny website, where everything he uses and consumes (junk food, too) is carefully listed, including every single processor and pedal. Let’s put this straight from the beginning: the cat can play the instrument, and were I the Guitar Player editor, an article about Grigoriev should constitute a priority in the “curiosity list” (rest easy, Steve Vai and Yngwie Malmsteen). There is a degree of compositional substance in what Ogogo does, though, not exclusively six-string pyrotechnics: structure, irony in large doses, not to mention the absolutely wild arrangements of the bulk of the pieces. Some of these cookies made me think of Henry Kaiser and Sergei Kuryokhin in pseudo-techno sauce. Just a vague superficial resemblance, obviously we’re not at the same levels of originality.

The stuff I’ve been able to listen to is comprised by three CDs. Lunar Surphase features several bizarre ideas, a few monotonous snippets and abundant quantities of tarradiddle turned into acceptable music, which in my book is a compliment. The fusion of scalar studies, volume swells, space-trip chords and trumpets that sound like a dwarf Jon Hassell (courtesy of Andrei Solovyov) in untidy jumbles delineated by spastic drum machine patterns are well worth a try, provided you’re looking for fun and not expecting the Revelation of the New Verb. Redux is the less amusing recording, the improvisations lacking the usual sarcastic steam to direct instead in the realm of inconsequential noodling, without genuine musical meaning. The duets with MIDI-enhanced trombonist Rod Oakes are not exactly what common men would love to hear at their funeral, and – in general - the whole record doesn’t sting, the sounds suspended between nothingness and mortality (get the Mahavishnu pun?). Honestly, I’d have left these tapes in the vault. On the contrary, Linden retrieves the right spirit of creative anarchy and a bit of predetermined design in the tracks, which in this case are complementing a series of pictures and sculptures by visual artist Ron Linden (reproduced in the CD booklet). “The K” is my overall favourite Ogogo piece: a semi-regular overdriven pulse introducing a run of preposterous scales and interlocking figurations creating weird counterpoints punctuated by the sample of a squawking chicken (STOP PRESS 12/31/09: Mr. Grigoriev just emailed to specify that it's actually a peacock - so much for this countryman's animal expertise). Sublimely cheap, and that’s all she wrote. If you want to laugh a bit while enjoying the best jokes that Igor has to offer, perhaps starting from here will be the correct choice.

(Note: the above review should not encourage unskilled incompetents to burn a CDR of weird-sounding bullshit and send it to this writer).

(III Records)

Different Reactions To A Pair Of Idiosyncratics

2009-12-29T12:47:00.000-08:00

A Belgian label met for the first time. Mixed feelings.

PHIL MAGGI – Blue Fields In Paramount

Maggi is essentially a vocalist who uses his natural instrument to initiate a whole world of superimposed and broadened morphing mantras and reach states of selfless entrancement. But that’s not all: for this CD, he utilized field recordings from Croatia (including road musicians and the insides of a church) and modified samples of classic music to create a sheltering sonic structure that welcomes repeated tries, despite being composed of elements that couldn’t really be described as previously unheard. Indeed there’s virtually everything you could expect for a homemade spellbinding trip: backward tapes, sounds of dripping water, tangled loops, stretched-out chorales. Yet Maggi applies the necessary touches with a considerable measure of – dare I say - love for life which is constantly noticeable. This transforms an otherwise ordinary album in a relieving episode of introspective transcendence, spiced with attention-grabbing snippets from different cultures adding to the intrigue. In synthesis, one of my favourite non-groundbreaking outings of 2009. Curious to hear more from this man.

Y.E.R.M.O. – Collision Zone

A combination of two duos - Yannick Franck and Xavier Dubois (Y.E.R.M.O.) versus visual artists Nadine Hilbert and Gast Bouschet - for the soundtrack of the Luxembourg Pavillion at 53th Venice Biennale in 2009. The press release says that this is an “invocation of the coldness and cruelty of a border zone between two worlds”, but these “qualities” appear as a façade hiding an inadequate sonic substance. The music is dominated by cumulative distortion for its large part, an amassment of saturated guitars at the limit of tolerability occupying a sizeable portion of the CD. As time elapses, a few ingredients are added: unremitting percussion, field recordings, industrial hues. The feeling remains one of (supposed) threat until the end. The problem, as usual, lies in the fact that this kind of stuff works probably better when experienced on site; quite honestly, as a simple recording on disc it doesn’t amount to much. There’s nothing that I haven’t heard before and even the “menace factor” is not working properly, all of those clangorous roars leaving this listener reasonably unconvinced.

POST SCRIPTUM 12/31/2009. After a (civil) exchange of opinions via email with Yannick Franck I felt compelled to listen to Collision Zone for the fourth time. Though my general impression has not changed, something must be indeed added. First of all, this CD must be played LOUD for best effect, which I hadn't done before, remaining content with a medium-volume setting both via headphones and through speakers. A decisive increasing of the volume introduced me to an appreciable quantity of massive underground vibrations that render the music definitely more effective on a physical level. Another thing that should be better defined: although layers of distorted guitars are often utilized, they don't actually "dominate" the large part of the record, but just characterize some of the tracks, while other sections (i.e. the finale) are informed by a measure of hope more than "threat" as I wrote. Upon our exchange, I also realized that Mr.Franck could be right when he tells me that the review could potentially throw Y.E.R.M.O. in the cauldron of noisy ignorance. That is NOT the case: even if I haven't been able to find overly positive aspects in this music, it was crafted and composed with a sincere purpose, which is clearly felt throughout. I apologize to Y.E.R.M.O. and to any interested party if the review sounded ambiguous in that sense, which certainly was not in my intention.

Four On Another Timbre Byways

2009-12-25T12:17:00.000-08:00

PAUL ABBOTT / LÉO DUMONT / UTE KANNGIESSER – Loiter Volcano

Electronics, percussion and cello, respectively. There’s a clandestine essence in this music, like if the participants – instead of diffusing the fruits of their gestures in the vastness of a church as it is the case – were furtively gathering in some sort of damp hole under a huge uninhabited building, the vibrations of the latter leaking into the general mindset. The interest resides in the fact that nobody tries to departmentalize the improvisational intuitions through forced heterogeneity, the player constantly remaining in the middle of a natural, if slightly contaminated flow. No element remains unemployed, with Kanngiesser’s cello obviously at the centre of what’s more recognizable, subdued dissertations and sensible management of the upper partials mixed amidst the customary rasping activities, with an increase of the timbral corporeality in the second half of the disc. The heterodox trait of Dumont’s tampering is neither predominant nor disproportionate, his despoliation of percussive structures voluntarily restricted within the collective entente, pragmatic manipulations of mismatched kernels complementing the unidiomatic quality of the interplay. One could very well doubt about the effective presence of Abbott’s electronic processing, which is extremely subtle, almost to the point of invisibility, yet transforms certain passages quite effectively with a laconic rebuilding of unfixed configurations. Not a seminal album, but excellent nevertheless.

MATHIAS FORGE / PHIL JULIAN / DAVID PAPAPOSTOLOU – Meshes

This reviewer likes hermetic improvisation to a certain extent, but still finds difficult – after at least four tries – to get satisfaction from Meshes, a trombone/electronics/cello presentation divided in two parts. If you pardon the obvious pun, the sonic components don’t mesh well enough, often appearing like a somewhat disjointed series of extemporaneous lumps, callous non-tones and unreadable noises thrown out in absence of hypothetic structures, visible intuitions or, in the worst case, a coup de theatre. The only significant result was achieved by playing the CD softly amidst further activities in Christmas day’s afternoon (one person typing and the other decorating wool, complete silence in the valley except the wind) without paying excessive attention to the development - or lack thereof - of the investigation. The factual rendition of what is emitted or manipulated is virtually useless; only a few irregular spurts of wheeze-and-gurgle rarefaction - in between various kinds of frictional activity and intermittent signals - sporadically woke up my interest. Sorry, connection failed in this case.

LÉO DUMONT / MATT MILTON – Scrub

A 30-minute live set for percussion and violin. Initially, the players act through micro-infusions of minuscule components within a larger system of coarse liverishness, a rather nervous attitude identified by the piercing insensitiveness of over-acute string harmonics and threadbare uneasiness. It doesn’t take much for things to become constant: aural nuisances exchanged with mild-mannered rubbing (at times bizarrely sounding as a gentle insufflation), unsympathetic abrasiveness enhanced by a nimble manufacturing of instantaneous oxidization, also attributing an element of dingy imperturbability to the general mood. The captious exploration of the inside mechanisms of a single unit characterizes both musicians’ method for large parts of this music, turning an evident inhospitableness into its best quality. After a while, even the most cynical listener is swallowed by those tiny vortexes, the whole informed by a treasured penuriousness of bombast. “Meagre” is beautiful, “toneless” is charming, “uncertain” revealing utter confidence in a vision which is perceived as unique, although that’s not really so. The final part introduces an almost ritual semblance, a sensible restraint defined by stretched sounds highlighted by well-audible echoes from the external world. As it happens with the bulk of Simon Reynell’s releases, one might or might not be able to appreciate a weak-looking nudeness, yet there’s undeniable substance in those protruding bones.

JAMIE COLEMAN / GRUNDIK KASYANSKY / SEYMOUR WRIGHT – Control And Its Opposites

The longest and overall most satisfactory item of this quartet. The instrumentation comprises trumpet, electronic and alto saxophone but here, more than everywhere else, I struggled a bit to focus on the correct individuation of the sources. This is also the recording in which the incidence of external intromissions (car engines, airplanes, birds) is working rather efficiently as actual complement to the music, finely structured per se and researched from the inside with palpable purpose. In general, this trio represents the entity that furnishes my ears with the best idea of a stream of activity directly related to anything having to do with life, both in a purely physical meaning and as an extension of simple gestures which in turn can originate reactions, convenient or less. Speaking of the timbral palette, there’s an obvious prevalence of soiled vibrations (mostly deriving from Coleman and Wright’s preparations, clearly audible as they get implemented on the spot), long-held pitches (predominantly in the piping-and-shrilling regions), buzzing groans and occasional aching laments – a wonderful series of the latter, almost animal in their intensity, starts about half a hour into the set – meshing with the classic saliva-drenched, pressurized sounds that have become an EAI trademark, this time successfully circumstantiated and dosed, delivered only at the due moment. Protracted silences emerge every once in a while, the artists apparently stopping to swiftly reconsider the work done and find a new starting point; in those instants the cityscape is heard quite well, and it’s just beautiful. The intelligently parsimonious use of a radio is a plus, a splendid juxtaposition of ruthlessly sharp tones and “Blue Moon” probably the album’s top in terms of coincidental brilliance and unintentional sarcasm. One needs persistence to penetrate the essence of Control And Its Opposites and, believe me, once you manage to do it those 80 minutes literally fly. Don’t neglect this unassuming masterpiece.

Another Timbre

The Distressed Retriever

2009-12-19T03:00:00.000-08:00

Helplessly trying to settle matters - within the borders of 150-200 words - with LOTS of records released one year ago or more (or less…) still waiting on that damn messed up desk. The fact that many of those are contained by extra thin sleeves – which tend to disappear amidst consistent batches of CDs – definitely doesn’t help.

REGENORCHESTER XII – Town Down

Trumpeter Franz Hautzinger’s Rain Orchestra – named after the “soggy London weather” characterizing their first gig – punches hard in between jarring suspensions. Forget hissing, plopping and tonguing, prepare yourselves instead to listen to a suite that fuses adrenaline and lysergic spirits in equal doses. Obviously there is a hint to the “electric Miles” era in the liners, yet that comparison misses the point a little bit. The music – played by Christian Fennesz, Otomo Yoshihide, Luc Ex and Tony Buck besides the leader – owns a fairly distinctive personality, characterized by malignant stabs to consonance masked with heavy riffs and inharmonious itineraries in the zones where the fumes of burned vinyl and the obliqueness of dislodged arpeggios place the whole lot in a grey area halfway through the toughest Paul Schütze remembered by this writer (perhaps circa Shiva Recoil) and Jon Hassell wearing a Motorhead leather jacket. I hadn’t realized that Fennesz and Otomo were so fond of uncooked overdriven guitars before. (Red Note)

JC JONES – Hosting Myself

A solid album of solo double bass by Jones, the moaning and growling fundament behind Jerusalem’s Kadima Collective. The instant compositions are aptly described by their creator as “focused on energy and the moment”, and indeed there is often an almost theatrical quality underlying the (mostly short) improvisations presented here. Every single component of the instrument is exploited, warranting a vast range of sonorities; the whole works much better by listening without headphones, as the contribution of the contiguous spaces to the (in)natural reverberation of all those groans, purrs, knocks, scrapes and clickety-clacks is essential. Jones is not averse to sound processing – on the contrary, he relies on it pretty heavily, a Lexicon delay (and possibly other pedals) at the basis of further alterations of the palette. His great merit resides in the fact that an idea is never worn out or excessively scrutinized, the vibrant trait of the resulting music constituting a crucial element of its success, our interest rewarded for several consecutive spins.

IVOR KALLIN / JOHN BISSET – A Schlep From Strathbungo

This is quite an oddity, particularly lovely in spite of my absolute inability to classify such a kind of impromptu staging. Walking through several locations in Glasgow (including the Hampden Park stadium while an important game is being played), local native Kallin recites verses, snippets of phrases, peculiar syllables and other scarcely intelligible fragments (at least for someone struggling to get to grips with Scottish) of human expression accompanied by the now acerbic, now complimentary acoustic guitar of Bisset. Occasionally the tracks might recall a folk version of Kurt Schwitters’ Ursonate with six-stringed counterpoint. There are numerous passages worthy of more than a distracted listen, especially when the couple wanders around tranquil oases of peace like Kelvingrove Park, sweetly whistling blackbirds underlining the on-the-spot swapping of ideas between the artists. The final part of the CD is a studio session where things sound (and, according to the liners, are) slightly planned – Bisset embracing an electric to furnish the music with a degree of bluesy touch – yet the sparkle and the artlessness of the city recordings remain unsurpassed. Very nice indeed. (2:13)

R MILLIS – 120

Robert Millis is a Climax Golden Twin (honest: I’ve been reading this name around a lot without knowing, to date, what the project deals with) and, especially, a collector of 78 rpm records and seeker of intercontinental snippets of real life, both for his own pleasure and use in albums by Sublime Frequencies (another label I’ll be happy to deepen my knowledge of as soon as someone invents the 48-hour day). 120 - originally released in a very limited edition – is a well conceived combination of extensive, looping-and-morphing flashes of beyond-earthly-existence awareness balancing otherwise pretty much vivacious, occasionally sybilline intermissions by fragments from ancient eras, presumably deriving from the above mentioned early discs. Though the concepts presented by Millis are not desperately innovative (and, sincerely, that “lonesome cowboy” strummed-guitar finale could have been left out), the sheer loveliness of those rust-coloured aural folktales and the impressive, almost supernatural standstills that he generates through superimpositions of processed instruments - guitar, bells and glass harmonica - are quintessential listening for anyone willing to experience some veritable moment of transcendence amidst the rotations of a time capsule, the wholeness of which is spiced by appreciably unpretentious field recordings. (Etude)

ADAM PACIONE – With Wakened Eyes

The original concept behind this 75-minute collection dates back to 2003, Pacione having been able to rescue earlier tracks that he believed lost in a hard disk crash. Taken as a whole (and in this case the “repeat” mode is mandatory) the six pieces amount to a hymn to the disaggregation of a human being’s will. My wife and I sat transfixed on the living room’s couch in a terribly cold, grievously grey morning while these stretched suspensions of mental activity went on and on, at times with a few barely hinted tonal connotations but, for our good luck, more often gifted with a kind of harmonic richness according to which concepts like “major” or “minor” (in relation to a potential key) become only stupid, uninteresting details, just as understanding what the sources for these longing uncertainties are. Vacillating clusters evoking an ashen face intent in praying, extensive perturbations of a peacefulness that remains endangered despite the entrancement. “Night So Deep” and “Night So Bright” are extraordinarily beautiful chapters, definitely among the best static electronica heard in years. Quite simply a must-have, and not exclusively for ambient aficionados: this man composes music with scarce instrumental elements and abundance of poignant substances acting as a magic potion for their ideal development. Huge mea culpa for not arriving to this record before. Glorious stuff. (Bee Eater)

OFF THE SKY – Creek Caught Fire

Jason Corder/Off The Sky's Creek Caught Fire (the logical prosecution of a previous EP called Creek Studies on Term, sublabel of 12k) revolves around “extracting subjective/objective inspiration and creative abstraction from vast natural space, but specifically that of the Appalachian (red river) area”. The liners then continue to illustrate a series of applications and processes related to the generation of this CD that I’m not really able to thoroughly understand. The music is very intriguing, intelligently paced and ultimately rewarding, a brand of tranquil electronica characterized by semi-biotic sub-movements, tremendously lovely timbres that are probably generated and/or modified by a laptop yet possess innate qualities that result utterly compatible with my personal evening’s mood (which is always a good thing). Samples of acoustic instruments enrich the palette of this silently affecting record, whose unstable dynamics – fused with a subdued muteness emerging as the primary colour in a general visionary efficiency – make sure that coldness and scientific posturing are not parts of the experience. Just another small, precious gem from this nearly invisible, legitimately significant label. (The Land Of)

Odd Couple Of Great Releases

2009-12-14T11:32:00.000-08:00

WILL HOLSHOUSER TRIO + BERNARDO SASSETTI – Palace Ghosts And Drunken Hymns

Holshouser and Sassetti had shared a stage for the first time in 2004, this album coming five years later as an expected corollary of that initial meeting. The accordionist and the pianist penned the entirety of the program, except for Carlos Paredes’ “Dança Palaciana” which opens the CD. The line-up is completed by Ron Horton on trumpet and David Phillips on bass. Portugal’s musical roots, landscapes and urban environments are admittedly an essential influence on this work, which alternates moments of wholehearted joy – characteristically expressed by odd-metered tunes and folk-ish themes led by Holshouser’s accordion – and pensive reminiscences in which Sassetti’s piano emerges with the customary assortment of introspective melancholy but – a bit of a revelation here – also with a measure of discordant diversity, exemplified by the angular figurations of “Irreverence”. The most lyrical traits, though, emerge courtesy of Horton, whose lines produce immediate images of vulnerability enriched by a rare quality of perceptive self-discipline, letting him appear as the real lead figure in this circumstance. Phillips is a clever, ever-efficient supporter, furnishing the interplay with unambiguous contrapuntal suggestions that help the music to remain anchored to a reality that often tends to be forgotten in such a kind of context. A brilliantly rendered example of instrumental narrative mixing popular and experimental factors. (Clean Feed)

JACK GOLD-MOLINA TRIO – Colored Houses

Besides being a drummer who sounds as bad intentioned as wisely inclined towards the clever decomposition of regular pulses, Gold-Molina is the man behind Sol Disk, the label on which this fiercely unapologetic CD is published. In this occasion, he is flanked by Michael Bisio on bass and Michael Monhart on soprano, tenor and baritone saxophones. This is one of those albums who meet my unconditional approval since the very first notes heard, as one instantly detects a genuine will of exploring the soul of the music in a way that is both radical and linked to some kind of primeval root. There’s a shamanistic quality to the playing, the performers stopping on certain figures to launch themselves into the spirals of repetitive patterns and interlocking rhythms, that directly connects their heart to the improvisational core. Gold-Molina leaves us flummoxed with a constant change in the percussive flow, utilizing mechanics of expression that discard the obviously bewitching aspects of free drumming to enhance the spiritual quintessence of an everlasting uninhibited groove. Bisio offers a spectacular performance, especially when using the arco over the course of long droning mantras (such as in “Water Lilies”) and extended fragments of melodic fearlessness, a timbre inflexibly rooted in a fertile ground of significant achievements, a lexicon - as ever - definitely unique. Monhart exalts every nuance of his reeds, transmitting signals of perturbation and raking the remnants of expository melody to generate anti-themes and solos completely disengaged from classic formulas, a well-visible star in an already extraordinarily clear sky. Records like Colored Houses prove that there’s still hope for emotional reaction when listening to a jazz album. Extremely recommended.

Two Pianists

2009-12-13T11:02:00.000-08:00

DANA REASON TRIO – Revealed

First album as a leader from this artist, and also my first meeting with her playing despite previous collaborations with names such as George E. Lewis, Cecil Taylor, Jöelle Léandre, Barre Philips, Joe Mc Phee. Reason, whose style is defined by rational procedures not involving coldness, is aided by Dominic Duval on bass and John Heward on drums. The interest lies primarily in the apparent slight disjointedness of the respective styles which, quite absurdly, denotes an even more coherent unity of intents. Reason’s flurries might indeed recall some of the most intelligible intuitions of the aforementioned Taylor, yet there is a measure of latent melancholy in the music which sets her personality apart from literal comparisons. The way in which she’s able to decelerate at the right moment and leave any sort of emphasis out, privileging moody smoothness and intellectual elasticity informed by an intelligent dismantling of clichés, is finely highlighted by the uninterrupted meticulousness – mixed to large doses of dissonant fervour – shown by the ever-durable Duval, while Heward applies a mixture of logic and sensitive magnification of certain percussive details to complete a strange kind of inner compatibility. Externally, all of this appears like three distinct ways that, in the end, find a point of convergence from which sizeable quantities of “pragmatically alluring” vibrations are generated. (Circumvention)

EMILIO TEUBAL & LA BALTEUBAND – Un Montón De Notas

The title translates as “a bunch of notes” and perhaps this is exactly what, at the end of the day, weighs down this otherwise pleasant enough record, preventing us from an entirely positive reception. Teubal, a Spanish at birth but now a citizen of Argentina, is a composer who appears to possess some of the right gifts to become a major name in this field. Immaculate technique, an innate proclivity to aurally satisfying combinations, a light veil of nostalgia, room for everybody to improvise. In that sense, La Balteuband (Xavier Perez, Felipe Salles, Moto Fukushima, Franco Pinna, Kobi Salomon, Ivan Baremboin, Greg Heffernan and Marcelo Wolski) is a gorgeous melting pot of styles and influences coming from different areas of the world, counting on musicians endowed with flawless instrumental dexterity. For about three quarters of the CD Teubal manages to sustain our interest with scores that could easily be enjoyed by the true addicts of genuine fusion (I mean of the musically deeper kind - we’re not talking Lee Ritenour here, with all the due respect to the latter), with hints to Oregon, Egberto Gismonti and certain incarnations of Pat Metheny Group. Unfortunately there are also tracks that, on the contrary, sound a little heavier to these ears: excessive solo juggling, insufficient consequence on the memory, tunes lacking a bit of synthesis that seems to exist elsewhere. An accurate selective process would have made this almost perfect (in spite of my time-honored heartlessness for this type of stylistic derivations); instead, a few handfuls of unnecessary ingredients – whose oily taste, regrettably, does remain in the mouth – cause certain episodes of Un Montón De Notas to occasionally overstay their welcome. (Not Yet)

Hail Mary Trio

2009-12-09T01:25:00.000-08:00

These three reviews were edited on December 8th, Immaculate Conception day in Italy (elsewhere too, perhaps?). Not bad for an unrepentant agnostic.

THOMAS DIMUZIO & ANDRE CUSTODIO / CONURE – Street Of Errs

Another split from John Gore’s ever-interesting series on Cohort. Dimuzio and Custodio present “Air Way”, a live recording from 2007 that utilizes samples, processing, loops, MIDI-controlled feedback and synthesizer to generate a spacey, sporadically intimidating soundscape that could not really be described as blissful, its tissue also characterized by a modicum of growl which avoids the barrenness usually manifested by all those sweet-sounding pseudo-cosmic trips which anyone with a workstation is able to concoct in this day and age. It mixes mystery and majesty, stasis and movement, drone and variation, meaning that our interest is sustained with ease throughout 18 minutes. Conure’s “Murray Street” – much longer at 27’ – was created by manipulating the sounds coming from the Manhattan site made famous by a Sonic Youth album’s title. The temperament of this piece is consequently more inconstant, noisily oppressing, the composer privileging the most distorted aural nuances of the audio range while basically maintaining the qualities of that sort of overwhelming mantra informing metropolitan life - especially in NY – with additional doses of piercingly spurious raucousness thrown in for good measure. In both cases: fine, though not world-shattering stuff.

METAL MACHINE TRIO – The Creation Of The Universe

You’ve probably read about this project most everywhere by now, but a little bird told me that the world at large also needed my two cents. “Guitarist” Lou Reed (no, he’s not singing yet he does elicit fuzzy Hendrix memories at times), saxophonist Ulrich Krieger and electronic wizard Sarth Calhoun, recorded live at Los Angeles’ Red Cat, explore a series of situations oscillating between collective brooding improvisation and something nearing a sort of art-rock informed by a measure of hardness, with a slight tendency to substantial, if well-contained distorted riffage and occasional spewing of unruly squeals. I’m convinced that many so-called purists will turn their noses up in front of this but – as usual - no problem here. There are several episodes in which these improbable comrades do very interesting things, superimposing melodic fragments to massive drones and infected discharges in the space of moments, almost never sounding vulgar. It must be told that Calhoun’s processing is often the key to the conversion of pretty regular stuff into nonfigurative conceptions, relatively appealing on an experimental level; the mental depth of the involved artists makes sure that ineffective noodling is left out of the room more often than not. Naturally we’re not talking masterpiece – Metal Machine Music this ain’t, despite the trio’s denomination. In spite of this, we come across an appreciable quantity of fascinating interludes – a didgeridoo-like moan at approximately 37 minutes of the first disc, scarred by Reed’s slashing outbursts, being particularly munificent to these ears – in a general predisposition to humongous surging. As a method for making some (edible) noise it’s more or less OK, provided that one manages to assimilate the unnecessary fat of certain segments where excessively rock-ish propensities distract us a bit from the refreshingly convulsive roaring. The wall-of-jumbled-chords-with-ruthlessly-stabbing-dissonance sections – not to mention the ominously obscure beginning of the second set - are way better. Test definitely passed, although not with flying colours. Available here.

HOPEN – Their Quasi-Homes Are Real Holes

Childe Grangier and Bruno Gillet are, respectively, a sound artist “influenced first by sounds (…as George Clooney would have it, what else?), daily noises and music experimentation from Zappa, Autechre, Luc Ferrari Subrosa label (…)” and a multi-instrumentalist credited with “guitar, drums, knives”. Go figure. This splendidly titled digital release (available at Everestrecords) is a pastiche made with literally myriads of snippets from the most disparate sources, including lo-fi shreds, cut-price field recordings and regular instruments filtered and equalized to transform their timbres into something which is perceived as “caressingly unrelated” to our senses. It’s a strange work, for different reasons. Although the general conception is not new, Hopen managed to find a number of interesting combinations and sequences that attribute a cinematic, but still investigational quality to the large part of the recording, which becomes well tolerable - when not completely involving - thanks to this outlandish unsettledness. One tends to forgive a few cheesy synthetic presets, only because they’re instantly raped and killed by additional intromissions of unsentimental acridness and infeasible paroxysmal lexicons; and indeed there is a Zappa rip-off somewhere (a brief section sounds exactly like the sped-up tapes in FZ’s “Revenge Of The Knick-Knack People”). Nevertheless, the anguishing dimension underlying the music – even during apparently peaceful instances – renders it deeper than its superficial look, and this is what ultimately influences the optimistic impression. My suggestion is to play this in “random” mode, at fair volume, from the speakers: certain weird resonances might do wonders in relation to your psychological setting.

By Ulrich Krieger, With Ulrich Krieger

2009-11-29T11:53:00.000-08:00

What would this poor raconteur do without gentlemen like Herr Ulrich Krieger, saxophone master, who personally send their music in lieu of unwilling (or distracted, or linked to some unsympathetic individual) labels? Danke, Uli.

ULRICH KRIEGER – Up & Down 23

The composition is scored for four superimposed soprano saxophones, handled – of course – by Krieger. It is explained that playing the CD at the extremes of the audible range warrants the best consequence for this particular recording: soft volume to get a sort of microtonal ambient, loud for a deeper psychoacoustic experience characterized by adjacent tones, minimal shifts and subtly spurious vibration according to our position in the room during the playback. Either way, listening to this music results in a calming, comforting practice: the timbral textures modify their fundamental nature just slightly, in non-harmful fashion, and there aren’t surprises of any kind; yet a full hour flies away without us noticing, surrounded as we are by layers of contiguous pitches in different combinations – including solo sections – and several short moments of silence, especially at the beginning and end of the piece. I’ve read rather superficial hints to Phill Niblock’s influence on this work elsewhere but there’s not much here that might resemble, even remotely, an imposing accumulation of neighbouring frequencies such as those created by the minister of all drones, though some of those principles are indeed applied. Up & Down 23 is more of a study, a careful examination of the relations between emitted notes and resonating spaces. An alleviating, under no circumstance overwhelming listen. (B-Boim)

PURE NOISE / ART ZOYD STUDIO – Experiences De Vol #7

This release was received on a CDR and I couldn’t succeed in opening the files containing the liners. What I managed to gather by surfing the web is that the work is a new chapter in an ongoing project started in 2000 under the “Experiences De Vol” denomination. All that remains is describing the sonic content, which equals to say “read above”: noise, noise and again noise, of the thoroughly brutal variety, the kind of uproar which Merzbow would be envious of. Ulrich Krieger opens with possibly the most regimented track (so to speak), in which the saxophone is used as a generator of stormy rumbles in somewhat regulated perniciousness. Kasper T. Toeplitz follows with a rather musical crescendo of distorted droning, whose might is inversely proportional to the innovative qualities of the music, yet this is maybe the album’s best in terms of sheer aural gratification; very dominant indeed. Dror Feiler pulverizes the remnants of our auricular membranes with a lengthy, furious mega-blast that utilizes different gradations of acridness and rage to blow the socks off the listeners, who get caught without shelter by repeated fusillades of nasty substances that, once meshed, almost give an idea of quaking stasis. Other players involved are Carol Robinson, Laurent Dailleau, Jérôme Soudan, Erik Baron and Carl Faia. Overall, a perfect way for starting a litigation with the neighbours or abruptly shutting the communication channels up with your life partner. (Art Zoyd/In-possible)

Brief Autumnal Writeups

2009-11-28T05:19:00.000-08:00

LEVEL – Opale

Translucent yet foggy ambient, ideally in the centre of a Eno/Satie/Basinski triangle, entirely constructed by Barry G. Nicholas (aka Level) with piano samples given to him by Linden Hale and Keith Berry, to which “digital touches and textures” that, according to the moment, enhance or just caress the pre-existing sounds were added. The composer declares that he willingly wanted to preserve the “original spirit of the source material”, and indeed the music's pianistic qualities remain mostly visible throughout. Nicholas does very well in maintaining a level (no pun intended) of gently overhanging sadness most everywhere, avoiding to go astray looking for transcendence, preferring instead to expand the listener’s breathing room through long reverbs, subtly wavering stasis and extremely palatable (and by no means sugary) melodic cells. A classic specimen of recording which is useful both for sheer listening purpose and as fleeting soundtrack for a moody evening, an appreciable concoction of sampled reminiscences and obliquely cuddling electronics. (Spekk)

ANDREY KIRITCHENKO – Misterrious

In the press release Kiritchenko says that his wish was to use acoustic flavours to create a “jazz record (my way of course)”. To do this, he utilized guitar, glockenspiel, mouth harmonica, autoharp, Tibetan bowls and objects, also calling Jason Kahn and Martin Brandlmayr to contribute with drumming in four of the nine tracks (one of them – “Untitled Inquietudes” – is quite fascinating). The compositions are – occasionally - tenderly engaging in an amiable minimalism, with slight echoes of early Tim Story in a couple of instances. Yet, after a short while, the artistic flimsiness is revealed in its meagre nudity: some of these basic sketches could be good enough for children at play but – the obvious sincerity in the initiator’s intention notwithstanding – their staying power might even be inferior to that level. I’d keep two or three chapters, and not without difficulty. If this was meant to be a moment of introspection, it didn’t come out represented that deeply. It’s all too easy and light, despite those much appreciated choirs of cicadas and crickets appearing here and there. A little humanity is fine with me, but serious music is another thing altogether. A jazz record??? (Spekk)

STEVE LACY / JOHN HEWARD – Recessional (For Oliver Johnson)

Although they knew each other since 1975, the pair managed to play together for the first time only on June 20, 2003 in Montréal, at the “Suoni Per Il Popolo” festival. This CD constitutes the certification of that meeting, which occurred exactly one year prior to the saxophonist’s death in 2004. Lacy employs the soprano exclusively, while Heward, besides drums, is also heard on African bells and kalimba. Mentioning the respect that should be given to artists of this calibre is obviously a prerequisite; in this specific circumstance we notice a few suggestions generated by the interplay, especially when Lacy becomes slightly impenitent in extemporaneous treatments of otherwise fairly compliant melodic materials, which he deviates to the point of intermittent waywardness, always with extreme elegance. Heward is discreetly mitigated throughout, mostly leaving the spotlight to the companion yet ever ready to make his presence count through a sensitive, if rather forthright percussive colouring. It might not be a milestone for the ages, but Recessional remains nevertheless an interesting document. (Mode Avant)

JOE MCPHEE / JOHN HEWARD – Voices: 10 Improvisations

Three years later – June 2006 – after the meeting between Heward and Lacy reviewed above, the percussionist (here on drums and kalimba) is found in equally excellent company, Joe McPhee translating fantasies, energies and improvisational zeal via pocket trumpet and – again – soprano saxophone. This sounds like a slightly livelier duet to these ears, which especially appreciate McPhee’s serenely delivered trumpet lines in “Improvisation 3”, symbols of a melodic prescience of sorts that nearly causes the listener to see in advance what the players are going to disclose. The (mildly) unrulier instances are also appealing, if not exactly innovative: perhaps more absorbing for a kind of modern tribal quality than for the effective insight revealed. There’s a feel of uncontaminated honesty that permeates the record, which lets us forgive a few spots where a tad of boredom kicks in, the artists seemingly trapped for a short while in a labyrinth of inescapable, inanimate routine that – for our good luck – is absolutely transitory in comparison to the ever perceptible soul that they own in copious doses. (Mode Avant)

HEMLOCK SMITH & LES POISSONS AUTISTES – Three Times Dead

Combined release from Swiss entities which lets us enjoy its (few) captivating impressions but not understand what, of diverse sides, is the right one. Avant-pop? Intimately “maudit” crooning? A crossbreed of two Davids (namely Bowie and Sylvian) immersed in now bucolic, now noisy soundtracks? Difficult to say. What’s certain is that excessive recitation in a record is not easily digested in this writer’s shelter, unless there’s a serious reason behind it; even less when the speaker/singer’s personality is not particularly exceptional, which is unfortunately the case of Michael Frei, deus ex-machina of Hemlock Smith (although I don’t really know if he’s the only vocalist here). Therefore, what remains is a handful of trailers of relatively low-budget “cinema for the ears” featuring intriguingly “atmospheric” instrumental sections made with, among other sources, bowed guitars, light bulbs and sampled monks. The rest is unnecessary talking and inconsistently theatrical posing, both inexorably leading to tedium. Too bad: this looks like a missed chance by people who certainly possess a suitable technical ground for growing more mature fruits than this. (Everestrecords)

Balloon & Needle Trio

2009-11-25T10:08:00.000-08:00

HONG CHULKI / CHOI JOONYONG – Hum And Rattle

Apart from the nice U2 pun of the title, this record – entirely realized with a CD player and a turntable – brings an unrepentant, if somewhat moderate assault on the listener’s ears, subjected to an alternance of remorseless frequencies and episodes of extra-charged “tranquillity” for over 73 minutes. The protagonists manipulate their sources with expertise, obtaining uncommonly surprising sounds whose scope goes from ultrasonically acute stabs and extremely sharp interlocutions to quasi-silent segments where only through headphones we’re able to identify some sort of subterranean activity, often based on the exploration of audibility ranges that are better suited to dogs, cats and bats than humans (one can always improve, though). There’s a method to this music, which is why I particularly appreciate it: the performers are listening attentively even before releasing substances, which gives the idea of partially predetermined materials, although that’s probably not the case. There are abundant doses of pleasantly musical noise that, for once, implies a cleverly planned structure instead of exclusively introducing pain and tediousness, Chulki and Joonyong the representatives of an open-minded aural diplomacy that tends to leave exasperation aside in favour of an almost total sonic acceptability, disintegrated constituents notwithstanding. This release could be seriously cherished by those who welcome the products of Ferran Fages’ acoustic turntables. A well conceived, stimulating work.

JIN SANGTAE – Extensity Of Hard Disk Drive

Sangtae expresses himself through amplified hard disks, in case you missed it. This passion started fifteen years ago while working part-time at Yong-san electronic market, and he has tried both to increase the knowledge and enhance the techniques for making the machines work according to a musical sense. In certain circumstances the composer manages to achieve something that could be (very vaguely) defined as such, especially in terms of rhythmic pulse; yet the problem that is going to push a lot of people away from this CD, I suspect, is that many of the sounds produced are so unforgiving, so harsh, so intrinsically inharmonious that only a sadist might be willing to repeat the experience more than once. In truth there’s no actual music here, but a series of characterless mechanical events, some of them interesting, others just silly or plain dreary. I’m sorry to report that, in general, the contents of Extensity Of Hard Disk Drive are not remarkable enough to justify their release.

CHOI JOONYONG / HONG CHULKI / SACHIKO M / OTOMO YOSHIHIDE – Sweet Cuts, Distant Curves

Despite the above positive review of Hum And Rattle I’m not the least envious of artists expressing themselves with CD players and turntables these days; how can they find innovative ways of making music without producing the same results from a record to another? Most times a success is not waiting behind the corner, all those skip-click-fizz-and-buzz practices often turning into a litany for the destruction of the residual hopes of listening to a cleverly conceived recording. Luckily, this one (“recorded during Sachiko M and Otomo Yoshihide’s trip to Seoul for concerts organized by RELAY”) doesn’t belong to this category, especially in virtue of its rather interesting combinations of colours. This stuff is only for the well-versed, of course; not sure that the melange of maniacal sputtering, vituperation of harmonic construction, bizarrely hesitant oscillations and unsympathetic hiccups is going to appeal to those who love to hear some old-fashioned consonance in their wine-influenced evening sessions; in the final track, Otomo is even heard torturing an electric guitar. In general, nothing memorably new under the sun, although the sonic concoctions generated by this quartet tickle the nerves quite efficiently. With headphones on, in front of a muted TV set airing Criminal Minds, the session made for an experience halfway through occult encoding and electrophysiological stimulation. Alternatively, you may be willing to listen to Mozart or Vivaldi and get brainwashed for real.

Balloon & Needle

Old And Young Masters

2009-11-15T06:32:00.000-08:00

ALLAN HOLDSWORTH / ALAN PASQUA / JIMMY HASLIP / CHAD WACKERMAN – Blues For Tony

Your reviewer saw the above quartet performing this repertoire in Rome about two and a half years ago, so what’s missing here is any factor of potential surprise. But there’s no question that lovers of old-fashioned jazz rock will have a ball with Blues For Tony, a 2-CD set dedicated to the memory of Tony Williams, Pasqua and Holdsworth having been a part of The New Tony Williams Lifetime halfway through the seventies. Favourites from that era such as “Fred” and “Proto Cosmos” are rendered with characteristically classy know-how – not that we had any doubt given the names involved – together with more recent individual compositions (Wackerman’s “The Fifth” and Pasqua’s “San Michele” the ones that mostly remain in mind) and long improvisations that might sound a little dated at times but are always imbued with a kind of passionate involvement that is becoming rare to see nowadays. Yet it’s the English guitarist who steals the show (and, as usual, my heart) in the opening section of “Pud Wud”, thanks to a series of magnificent chordal swells which constitute both a trademark and a symbol of this man’s exceptional harmonic vision. I’m still waiting for the day in which AH releases an album made exclusively of superimposed guitars: maybe road manager and label honcho Leonardo Pavkovic could try and convince the stubborn maverick from outer space to finally make his thirsty fan’s wish come true. (Moonjune)

JIM O’ROURKE – I’m Happy, And I’m Singing And A 1,2,3,4

Reissue of the namesake work from 2001 – in truth, among the less profound ones in the list of JO’R more experimental recordings – with a bonus disc containing additional material, which is obviously the only reason for obtaining a new copy of this item. The original remains a rather light-hearted nicety after eight years, its atmospheres ranging from Terry Riley-esque repetitions informed by lots of digital skipping and assorted kinds of technical malfunctioning utilized as a compositional means to the near-solemnity of the final “And A 1,2,3,4”, whose slow melodic arcs recall selected chapters from Stephen Scott’s bowed piano book (instead, O’Rourke doesn’t specify the sources for his music, which I agree with – mystery is OK in certain instances). The second CD is mainly characterized by the lengthy “Getting The Vapors”, almost forty minutes of mysterious, unfathomable drones fading in and out, intoxicating disquietude and oppressing anxiety eliminating any chance of use for meditation-with-incense purposes. It is also very pleasant to rediscover “He Who Laughs”, a composite piece full of “concretely oneiric” manifestations, stimulating electronics, marching bands surrounded by fog and unrestricted processing that had originally been issued on a limited edition vinyl on Neon Gallery, a rarity missed by many latecomers finally available again. While some of these tracks do not reach the same level of inner vibration typifying O’Rourke’s masterpieces – if you want to start with one, head straight to Long Night or Tamper – there’s enough meat here to keep your mind busy for days, complex reflections, disguised fears and the occasional humour typical of this composer all valid reasons for stopping doing other things and lend attention to sounds that might be loved or hated, but never appear conventional to these ears. (Editions Mego)

More Random Picks From The Long-Waiting 2008 Heap

2009-11-03T21:30:00.000-08:00

I’ll try to be short and sweet (or, when applicable, concise and honest). Got to get rid of this persistent sense of guilt, you know.

CARESS OF MY FIST – Etudes In Violence

Basically, COMF is the duo of violinist Mike Khoury and reedist Fred Bergman typically supplemented by a third rotating element. In this disc there are two, percussionist Curtis Glatter and guitarist Chris Riggs. Despite the project and record’s names and the pugilistic aroma emanating from the track titles (such as “Sucker Punch” and “Knocked The Wind Out Of Me”), this music mostly consists of a kind of well-dressed, ear-pleasing improvisation, frequently scented with oriental essences yet not scared of treading more dissonant paths, without exaggerating in one sense or another. Khoury and Bergman - who in this case plays sax and flute - are rigorous respecters of the value of silence, avoiding condescension and verbose chit-chat in favour of few crucial concepts exposed with clarity and good doses of soul. Their partners appear as valid contributors throughout, enhancing the overall feel of barely perturbed composure via rather restrained footnotes, controlled discharges and, in general, intelligent coordination. Although slightly inoffensive at times, this is a fine enough album which comes lodged in an interesting hexagonal sleeve whose mechanism of closure, which results in a sort of complex flower, is a thing of beauty. (Cohort)

MARINA PETERSON / PHILLIP SCHULZE / JONATHAN CHEN / ANDREW RAFFO DEWAR – Quartet Solo Series

Different artists performing alone, according to a conceptual design comparing their efforts to four separate “albums” on one CD. Cellist Peterson – whose resume is undeniably impressive – didn’t make me overly enthusiast with her rather drained improvisations, “enhanced” by the usual means (paper, clips, sticks). Aside from a couple of instances where the percussive traits of the cello are exploited to give birth to interesting, if not groundbreaking resonant symptoms, the music remains pretty unexciting, too linked to certain (by now abused) aspects of acoustic modernity that privilege the clinical dissection of an instrument. It doesn’t always work, this being a classic case. Schulze’s “Cause Unfold Proceed II” is a half-improvised, half-composed electronic abstraction that presents several intriguing points of access, despite an apparent difficulty. The piece, although very fragmentary and undergoing a perennial atmospheric shift, results well connected to a fundamental plan and gifted with a biotic synchronization of sorts, detectable down to the tiniest component. A façade of coarse coldness hiding millions of purulent micro-organisms, no time for excessive thoughts and analyses, good stuff indeed. Another composition for electronics is presented by Chen, who in “Drummer” utilized a child’s drum set (snare, tom and bass drum) as an equalizing filter for the feedback generated by “independent system/amplifiers without the use of a limiter”. The result is a continuously droning superimposition of buzzes, quite minimal yet extremely functional (especially via headphones – I almost went to sleep while listening, such is the mind-numbing power of these frequencies). Last but not least, Raffo Dewar gifts us with two excellent pieces for soprano sax, in which he demonstrates a complete control of the instrumental nuances fused with an inherently clever, intuitively rational melodic diagram and an uncommon sensitiveness in terms of emitted note-environmental response-reaction to the environmental response. The man has studied with Steve Lacy and Anthony Braxton, and it shows. A fitting conclusion for a (predominantly) substantial release. (Striking Mechanism)

JEREMY BIBLE & JASON HENRY – Vryashn

For the enquiring ones, the title is a contraption of “Variation”. Bible and Henry are extremely active figures in the musical realm that encompasses concrete sounds and heavily processed instruments, alternating recordings and installations in a seemingly unstoppable productive quest. Yet this is, if memory serves, the first time I meet them. The record consists of two extended segments. Part 1 is principally constructed upon permanently stretched pianistic emissions immersed in long reverberation, with just a change in the equalization towards the end. A single movement repeated ad infinitum, like a marine ebb and flow. Not transcendental, but also not annoying, this is nearly perfect as a circumstantial sonic commentary for a documentary about the abyss (of what type, it remains to be seen). The opening section of the second chapter is replete with muffled echoes of inexplicable activities interspersed with powerful hums and – once more – lengthy resonances which seem to allude to some sort of hidden subaqueous universe. One detects distant pulses, metallic intromissions and whispered fears, then it’s undying piano – complemented by additional indistinct timbres - all over again. On the whole: neither bad nor exceptional stuff, the bonus being a couple of emotionally charged events that raise the overall value, this would have definitely worked better at half a hour or so. (Gears Of Sand)

MICHAEL GENDREAU – Voûtes

Another installation, another CD documenting its sonic behaviour. The premise is Rue Tolbiac in Paris, under which a “group of arc-shaped vaults” is located. Gendreau recorded the vibrations generated by the surrounding structures, which were used as a sort of preamble for the actual concert in that exhibition space. The audible outcome is, to be blunt, pretty dull: tedious as a depressing winter afternoon, monotonous like the sounds from a subway, a series of indistinct presences halfway through gurgling pipes and ghostly currents, repeating themselves without deviations. The live segment, taped by Eric Cordier, utilizes the first piece together with additional manipulations - both of the original source and the basic track itself - and is also barely motivating (in spite of the different placement of the microphones and the “variations” in the mix). I’m not lying when telling you that, at times, the boiler and the wind beneath the roof at my house produce more appealing music. Typical example of “better enjoyed on site than reproduced in a room”. (Cohort)

THE PUSH-PULL QUARTET – At The Stroke Of Twelve

Formed by Ben Miller (alto & c-tenor sax), Chris Welcome (guitar), Shayna Dulberger (upright bass) and John McLellan (drums), Push-Pull gravitate around the planet of downtown jazz – Lounge Lizards came to mind, if only occasionally – mixing a rather straightforward exploration of angularity with expressive issues deriving from older illustrious pasts. They mostly perform without excessive pressure yet, even considering the generally stress-free mood, their way of interlocking themes and improvisations is often characterized by good-humoured dissonant bad manners, constantly informed by timbral clarity: no squeaks and shrieks, just mild contrasts and acceptable disagreements. While Miller and Welcome seem to be reciprocally attracted on a semi-melodic level, and Dulberger and McLellan are all but a typical rhythm section given the apparent tendency to wander across hardly welcoming harmonic regions, hearing how the quartet is able to travel in unison then abandon themselves to a quasi-uneducated chiselling of improvisational divergence – stylishness be damned – is alone worth an attentive try. You won’t rejoice for a new revolution after that; still, At The Stroke Of Twelve remains a thoroughly enjoyable CD. (Tigerasylum)

MIKE KHOURY / WILL SODERBERG – Volumen Drei

Khoury’s violin against Soderberg’s processing (…and electronics? I couldn’t say, but it would seem so), creating a strange kind of music that alternates complete abstraction and more stable sections – the ones this writer prefers – where repetitive loops and impressively deployed spacious resonances spread around my room consistently even at moderate volume. Short and uncomplicated string fragments, often bordering on the pseudo-introspective side of things, get utterly modified and retransformed into scarcely palatable food for the psyche, bouncing and bubbling in constant alteration and total unpredictability. All sounds are surrounded by several strata of grime, sort of a perennially lurking distortion that renders the whole less decipherable. The flummoxing qualities of the large part of the CD are balanced by the above mentioned “peaceful” vistas, the union of these different facets conjuring up memories of electronic pioneers. Amidst romantic impracticality and incorrupt experimentation, these artists appear to have fun and contemplate at once, the outcome a bizarrely attractive record that I’ve already played various times, and which is not likely to become annoying anytime soon. A low-budget, minor classic that comes highly recommended if you wish to forget about illuminated nonentities and celebrate instead erratic contaminations by two eccentrically sterling purveyors of ear-gratifying arbitrariness. (Tigerasylum)

Two On Gears Of Sand

2009-10-30T22:38:00.001-07:00

MIRKO UHLIG – Gyokuro

You can appreciate or detest the genre, taking extreme pleasure or getting outright bored when listening to repetitive melodies submerged by unfathomable resonances, thinking “this is great” or “this is rubbish”. But there’s no question that Mirko Uhlig’s music rarely sounds like someone else’s. Gyokuro is mainly based on undemanding reiterative figurations and essential looped progressions which go on and on, completely surrounded by a fog of ambiguity slightly blemished by a modicum of electronics. The titles of the six tracks form a phrase: “Do Birds Practice Their Songs While They Sleep In The Gardens Of Gyokuro”, my overall favourite being “While They”, a heartbreaking segment recalling a mermaid’s poignant chant as she listens to Wiliam Basinski. Utterly touching, we could meditate about life’s burdening troubles for hours only with this piece. On the whole, this is a deceptively simple offer that doesn’t seem to transmit so much at a first try; I urge everybody to persevere and play it twice, thrice, five times as a complex mechanism of reminiscence is revealed, which initially one didn’t suspect existing. Uhlig is a sensitive musician with solid roots, ever detectable in his consistently intriguing releases.

MATHIEU RUHLMANN – Fourteen Worms For Victor Hugo

There’s an interesting subplot behind this great CD, concerning – evidently - Victor Hugo and the conversations he claimed to have had with the Ocean, the Moon, Plato, Galileo and Jesus during the séances conducted after his daughter’s drowning in the Seine, through which the writer was trying to communicate with her. One of the “messages from the other side” described the four states of a return to Earth in the afterlife, which ideally depend on what kind of existence a being has lived in a previous incarnation: from stone/pebble to plant, to animal/insect, to human again. Mathieu Ruhlmann was ensnared by the concept of life existing in each state, so that “working with these objects you can extract this history sonically”. In any case Fourteen Worms is a gorgeous outing per se, the paradigm for those (unfortunately there are many) who would try and get involved in the sort of aural experience encompassing disparate sonic materials, environmental echoes, earthly matters, intelligent use of drones, in this particular circumstance sealed by a marvellously obscure closure via something that sounds like a looped segment of an ancient Asian folk song. Ruhlmann is able to generate spellbinding moods without indulging in special effects and arcane bells and whistles, ultimately confirming himself as a name to rely upon when a piece of well-composed evocativeness is all one wishes for little more than half a hour. A record that possesses emotional features, a rare commodity in this musical district today.

Gears Of Sand

Late October Quartet

2009-10-28T15:07:00.000-07:00

Synthetic write-ups and brief considerations about a poker of CDs listened recently. The first three from Moonjune:

THE WRONG OBJECT – Stories From The Shed

Belgian quintet whose music crosses – very clearly - Zappa, Univers Zero and a number of jazz-rock influences, fusing them in a highly pleasurable concoction. Not a lot of innovation therefore, yet it doesn’t matter: these guys can definitely play, able as they are of extricating themselves from the most complex entanglements of odd-metered rhythms, intertwined riffs, slanted counterpoints (the dialogues between saxophonist Fred Delplancq and trumpeter Jean-Paul Estiévenart are particularly stimulating) and, in general, a punkish vibe which does no damage. Guitarist Michel Delville alternates furious overdrive and semi-sparkling clean tones, underlining with beautiful chords the calmer circumstances; the rhythm section, consisting of bassist Damien Polard and drummer Laurent Delchambre, is creatively solid yet not mechanically strict, guaranteeing flexibility and steady pulse throughout. Great CD, reminiscent of the best progressive from the 70s with a contemporary edge that comes extremely welcome. Instead of paying attention to people who pretend to be at the forefront of novelty but can’t touch an instrument, it is much better giving room to entities such as The Wrong Object, who fearlessly try and maintain certain kind of musical values still palatable even after a (presumed) expiration date. Modern-day retro, anyone?

GEOFF LEIGH / YUMI HARA – Upstream

I was glad to find Geoff Leigh in a new recording since, after the great work in one of my all-time overall favourite albums (namely Henry Cow’s Legend) and an album in duo with Frank Wuyts, I had lost trace of his activities. Well, if this is what he is doing now better living with the memories. The incontestable technical brilliance of this multi-instrumentalist virtuoso (here active on flute, soprano sax, zither, percussion, nose flute, voice drone and electronics) is definitely plagued by two factors. The first is the absolute shortage of attention-grabbing aspects in the improvisations, which for the large part sound rather stale, without a real direction, excessively immersed in electronic treatments. The second, sorry for being unsophisticated, is Hara: apart from a couple of more contemplative instances in which she limits herself in textural accompaniments (both with voice and keyboards), her pseudo-ritualistic chanting – especially in the central bulk of the CD – is not just boring, but plain annoying. Perhaps the only really nice moments are the initial title track and the final “The Siren Returns”, which keep things in a context of relative soberness; most of what's left is experimentation that didn’t work at best, and an utterly exasperating listen at worst.

HUGH HOPPER – Numero D’Vol

The late, great Hugh Hopper in company of another stalwart – Charles Hayward on drums – and the previously unknown to me Simon Picard (sax) and Steve Franklin (keyboards). Eleven chapters halfway through a pretty stereotyped jazz-rock and a very slight measure of improvisational experimentation, effects and processing often utilized in those contexts (at times excessively, one would say). Unfortunately there are several low points to discuss. First of all, a huge difference in personality and instrumental consistency between the two couples: throughout the CD I felt as if Hopper and Hayward were dragging the whole thing, while Picard is – sincerely – a honest employee of the saxophone who didn’t manage to produce emotions for a minute and Franklin appears as a rather ordinary keyboardist. Then, the music itself: apart from a few occasions in which the vibe is a little more animated (so to speak) the majority of the tracks sound like pretexts for noodling without excessive enthusiasm, the latter sensation easily transmitted to a somewhat perplexed listener. Scarcely momentous riffs, irresolute solos, you get the picture. Not too much to exult for in this dull album.

The fourth on Audiobulb:

ULTRE – The Nest And The Skull

Ultre is a nom d’art for Finn McNicholas, who works with acoustic instruments such as piano and guitar, electronics and “homemade beats” (hand claps, finger snaps, hitting objects from his apartment, etc). Seaming together tiny snippets and loops of easy melodies and arpeggios with excited zeal, he generates a peculiar brand of contaminated instrumental techno-pop which sound quite sugary at times yet doesn’t lack in intriguing occurrences. The good news is the (relative) originality of the proposal which - especially at the beginning - sounds fresh enough, even enjoyable, giving us a chance to tap our feet and nod for a while. The bad is that, after fifteen minutes or so, the compositional techniques appear a little too similar from a track to another, thus attributing a thin patina of repetitiveness to an otherwise rather agreeable recording. Still, there are enough lovely incidences to keep things alive, and the tolerable extent of the program helps in not getting bored. For a couple of listens this can stay but, at the end of the day, it’s unmemorable stuff.

A Couple Of Loose Torques With Nick Stephens And Jon Corbett

2009-10-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

Bassist Nick Stephens’ Loose Torque imprint publishes fresh documents involving himself and his companions, typically improvised sessions – live or in the studio. The man is always so exquisite to regularly send me new releases. These two are not exactly “new”, though - but more will arrive soon and I’ll be here reviewing them, too (thanks, Nick!).

JON CORBETT / NICK STEPHENS / ROGER TURNER – Dangerous Musics in ‘91

This incarnation of Dangerous Musics (originally started in 1987) included trumpeter Jon Corbett (here doubling on valve trombone) and percussionist Roger Turner. The record comprises five tracks recorded in Turner’s flat in 1991 and a 36-minute live set whose cassette was found “down the back of the sofa” by Corbett, date and venue unknown. The trio plays a sparkling, fizzling variety of scarcely regulated jazz characterized by an ever-present sense of humour, magnifying divertissement-based traits and excluding bad vibes completely. They can also bang quite heavily, but the preferred mood is one of deceiving breeziness which in reality hides a solid technical dexterity, appreciable even by the non-experts (such as my wife, who liked certain parts of this CD a lot, and definitely is not a fan of this kind of music). Corbett acts as the loquacious talker, his phrases often spikier than a porcupine yet at the same time so sweet to listen to; Stephens counters with humble savoir faire, ready to roar more aggressively when needed. Turner rolls atypically and splashes happily, maintaining persuasive methods of engaging the listeners while drumming at the opposite of what might be anticipated. Fresh, invigorating stuff without any counter indication.

THE SEPTEMBER QUARTET – What Goes Around…

Add Paul Dunmall (tenor sax and saxello) and Tony Marsh (drums) to the Corbett/Stephens duo and here’s The September Quartet. What Goes Around… contains fairly recent recordings (2006) for a somewhat less effervescent result, despite the presence of one of my favourite saxophonists. Although the quality of the playing is first-rate your scribe was not able to excessively celebrate for this, sniffing a little lack of involvement on several occasions - or maybe it was a smidgen of tiredness. The instrumental nuances and the overall adroitness are obviously estimable, but melodic novelty is what this listener was missing the most, implicit feasibilities and barely hinted deviations working only just at times. Dunmall and Corbett try reciprocal engagements repeatedly, with mixed results - sporadically absorbing (as in certain sections of “One Thing Leads To Another”) or merely normal. Stephens and Marsh possess class to spare, yet sometimes that’s not enough. The interplay remains absolutely intelligible throughout, which is a plus. So, what’s wrong, I ask myself. Nothing really “wrong” indeed, because these people produce serious music even in their lesser creative junctures; still, there are quite a few instances in which a tentativeness of sorts - almost bordering on uncertainty - about the direction to follow was perceived. This caused the enthusiasm level to dwindle time and again, various portions of the improvisations sounding more as an elegant kind of indecisive effort than crucially inventive. Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be that way, after all. You know what? Better concentrate on the single instrumentalists as opposed to the collective playing. Absurd, but reasonably effective.

Two With Christian Munthe On Tyyfus

2009-10-14T10:13:00.000-07:00

My first time with this Swedish guitar rapist, both releases published by this on-the-edge Finnish label. Mixed feelings, as you will see. Thanks to Matti, Sami and all the rest of the Northern crew for these.

ANDERS DAHL & CHRISTIAN MUNTHE – Several Kinds Of Ground

Lively and truly captivating duets for acoustic guitar and electronics, enriched by a gorgeous cover photo showing a section of ground with its different textures and gradations, as per the album’s title. The erosion of timbre, the bitter nudity of the exchanges, the ability of creating appreciable music from what frequently appears as sheer noise are but a few of the qualities of this CD. The musicians mostly remain on the dirty-and-gritty side of things, their instruments hinting to new visuals of a kind of grouchy-yet-pleasurable improvisation which leaves lots of welcome breathing space despite the often frantic temperament of the pieces. Dahl’s electronic apparatuses hiss, pop and snarl while dismantling any idea of sophistication, as Munthe utilizes the whole spectrum that his axe offers to emphasize the muddiest passages and, in dissipated attitude, give some spark to a rusty tissue of involuntary convergences. It all sums up to an extremely fresh recording which sustained our attention entirely, full as it is of sharp discussions deprived of any gloss or patina.

CHRISTIAN MUNTHE – The Backside Suite

The record was completely played on the reverse side of an acoustic guitar, battered with all kinds of objects and bodily parts and secretions (one hopes that it was a cheap brand). That’s right – the man also spits on the instrument, obtaining squeals, wet kisses, gurgles and other assorted stomach-churning noises by rubbing and maybe sucking the saliva-drenched wood. Apart from this somewhat disgusting practice – I’ll never spit on my instruments, much less put the tongue on them – what’s contained in The Backside Suite could be OK if the program lasted half a hour instead of over 62 minutes as it is. Some of the hues that the guitarists manages to generate are indeed interesting, although knocking, picking, finger-tipping and letting things roll on the guitar body is an archetypal case of “been-there-done-that”. After a while one would like to hear more than this and the tracks starts sounding similar, in spite of the diverse approaches that Munthe attempts. Accordingly, treat this disc as an oddity - and not even that startling.

Opposites Do Attract (Slight Return)

2009-10-12T21:55:00.000-07:00

I love music - don’t hate it. I love it in all its genuine forms. Check these two exquisite CDs, which your early-morning snitch listened back-to-back and is now proceeding to relate about.

HAMAYÔKO – Retronica

Yôko Higashi is a quite unique spirit, and listening to her halfway-through-rags-and-riches acousmatic hotchpotches is becoming a gratifying rendezvous on a regular basis. In Retronica, we find ourselves surrounded by the well-dressed multidirectional anarchy that this girl has grown us used to, full of malformed speeches and uttered grunts, pitch-transposed atonal chanting, warped-to-death samples, spiteful distortions and paroxysmal rhythms. But what’s instantly noticeable by now is the enrichment of the compositional traits of the music from a record to another, always granting additional points in my scorecard: the nine tracks, despite the myriads of apparently extraneous sounds (even slightly distressing sometimes, gunshots and agonizing vocal emissions belonging to the recipe), demonstrate a preparative work that probably took a long time before the definitive permission to publish them. Or maybe this was all done in a couple of afternoons, who knows. In 33 minutes of harmonic bedlam I couldn’t hit upon a weak point, a brilliantly organized mess that ultimately privileges positivity to annihilation. Aurally stimulating, cleverly efficient, theatrical in the right moments, this is possibly hamaYôko’s finest outing to date. (Entr’acte)

RONNIE BOYKINS – The Will Come, Is Now

Ronald Boykins was the regular bassist for Sun Ra from 1958 to 1966, and – more sporadically – to 1974. One year later he finally responded positively to ESP’s Bernard Stollman’s request, 11 years prior (!), of recording a solo album. Here we have the reissue of that effort, which will remain his lone trace as a leader until an early demise in 1980 following a heart attack. Despite the attendance of three saxophonists (Monty Waters, Joe Ferguson and James Vass – the latter two also doubling on flute) and a trombonist (Daoud Haroom), the record’s temperament is initially delineated by the foreground presence of percussionists Art Lewis and George Avaloz, who characterize and highlight Boykins’ nearly obsessive vamping quite heavily in the lengthy title track. The principal’s work with arco is especially poignant in “Starlight At The Wonder Inn”, while the reeds get their deserved spots in the light during the splendidly chaotic, yet perfectly comprehensible arrangement of the brisk “Demon’s Dance” and in the mysteriously oblique slow walk that typifies the intro to “Dawn Is Evening, Afternoon” before the band starts swinging for the fences. “Tipping On Heels” make me feel like listening to a childhood scented radio program, moving rapidly without uncertainties, sounding wonderfully dusty. The conclusive extended improvisation - “The Third I”, another seriously percussive episode - might have aged a little worse, but this does not detract from the utter fascination that this music causes. Pure pleasure for wistful ears like mine. (ESP)

Opposites Attract (Well, Maybe)

2009-10-10T01:45:00.000-07:00

One could not juxtapose more different releases than these two. Sometimes is good to completely change perspective from a record to another as it keeps the mind fresh, delivering it from the mechanisms of expectation that typically introduce fossilization. Also interesting is the combination between old style/prosperous orchestration and new style/near-nakedness.

GRAHAM COLLIER – Directing 14 Jackson Pollocks

A double album by the (reasonably) ebullient Collier on his own Jazzcontinuum imprint, based on two live recordings from 1997 and 2004. The title comes from Gill Fisher’s description of the latter concert, the composer “casually strolling around the stage, giving directions to these fantastic musicians by hand signals..”. There’s only one recent piece, “The Vonetta Factor”; the rest consists of newly arranged revisiting of previous favourites. Artists like this British educator (in every sense) are the kind of figure that totally exterminates my necessity of cold analysis of a record, in favour of “going with the flow” and just enjoying the evening. A fusion of pre-planned architectures and regulated freedom allowing each soloist a spot under the sun yet never transcending into pandemonium, which lets us appreciate the lucid vision of a man that, together with people such as Mike Westbrook and Keith Tippett, has contributed to create a typical sound that for many aspects is our favourite brand of jazz, alternating hints to traditional schemes and a still-modern outlook on how a score should be interpreted by refined performers. Music that sounds nonconformist and time-honoured at once, showing a nice conversancy with the material by the involved participants (among them Jeff Clyne, Harry Beckett, Chris Biscoe, Geoff Warren, John Marshall, Oren Marshall – see what I’m talking about). At times the cylinders take a while to start firing, some imprecision and a couple of not perfectly coordinated executions perceptible in certain sections, especially during the first part of “Forty Years On”. But when the wheels get spinning for real – as in a pair of great blue-tinged tracks, “Mackerel Sky, An Alternate Blues” and “The Alternate Third Colour: Old Blues”, mere examples of a collective virtuosity heard most everywhere – that’s the moment in which you have to raise the volume level up, and applaud.

NARTHEX – Formnction

A prove-nothing experiment revolving around a complex procedure – which definitely won’t be repeated here – through which saxophonist Marc Baron and double bassist Loïc Blairon generated two 30-minute segments, one made with the sounds of their real instruments, the other obtained by substituting the actual sonic occurrences with frequencies of 1000 and 500 Hz. The latter version constitutes the first partition of the album and is an utter bore, sounding like a joke at the expense of the audience. Beeps and silences – lengthy silences – for half a hour. The second part is surely superior, the expert listener at least perceiving the “breath” of the playing despite the small number of notes and the interminable moments of absence of everything. A couple of long-held tones by Baron acted interestingly with my momentary position (walking in the room while listening is fine, better still if you don’t care about the compositional poverty of the pieces), whereas the tiny manoeuvres and percussive connotations used by Blairon on the bass are mainly forgettable. A thunderstorm broke out as yours truly was intent in understanding what’s so special in this music to be released by Potlatch – usually a label that publishes more important stuff - and literally saved the day: the interaction between the rumble and this writer’s sense of doubt amidst sparse (and largely inconsequential) pitches and disinterested thuds let me conclude the experience with a sigh. This is not an ugly record; just a neutral, undemonstrative thing. Which is even worse. File under “I’ll probably never listen to this again”.

Afe Triplet

2009-10-04T11:45:00.000-07:00

Afe Records is a label of contemporary electronica and post-ambient materials run by Andrea Marutti which released a few veritable gems in the past.

TIZIANO MILANI – Im Innersten

Milani is an “acoustic architect” from Vercurago, a small town in the northern area of Italy characterized by the placid waters of Lecco’s Lake, around which wonderful landscapes unfold. I thought I’d mention this because, despite the myriads of occurrences typifying it, his music seems to reflect the calmness of a long walk in the country, perhaps along a river (or, why not, a lake…) barely broken by the minute incidences that insect life, or bird talking, introduce in the overall tranquillity. Yet Im Innersten comprises many elements whose derivation is far from bucolic, their superimposition generated through complex processes that, in the composer’s words, create “a continuous flux where all events coming from a different origin interact, so that each of them contains all the others in itself”. To realize these delightfully unsolved textures, a computer processed pre-amplified omnidirectional sources captured by a microphone in a reverberating room. This is not a typical ten-second-Lexicon-Hall album hiding absence of ideas, though. In this circumstance, we’re satisfied by a sonic heterogeneity based upon familiar presences mildly enhanced by an intelligent use of electronics. It’s a quiet, but not boring series of electroacoustic interactions in which found sounds, electronic radiations and normal instruments generate an ear-rubbing cloth that appears trademarked by names such as Paul Schütze and Ralf Steinbrüchel, even if Milani successfully strives to maintain a trait of individuality. A clever work, dappled that necessary much to prevent wearisomeness from kicking in, elegantly gratifying and - especially in the final track “From Order To Border” – causing interesting reactions in the mechanisms of memory.

FHIEVEL – Pipe Smoking On A Balloon

This outing epitomizes the necessity, for many people, of avoiding like plague the fact of having someone else trying to describe their efforts, especially if those who do are translating from an indigenous idiom without understanding that certain subtleties are required in an international language. On the press release of this disc by Luca Bergero/Fhievel there’s a hilarious illustration (also available on Afe's website if you need a good laugh) penned by a Manuele Cecconello whose error-infested preposterous imagery – derived by the literal transposition of Italian into English, which is the best way to appear as a loon sometimes – certainly doesn’t help an album that makes of its modesty a salient trait. So let’s put an end to artificial grammar complications (how peacock-ish a difficult terminology is, huh? There are lots of traps under the smoke and the mirrors of pointlessness) and concentrate on the music, which in this occasion is not too hard. The record – a reissue of a 50-copy limited edition originally on the Polish imprint Um/Ko - is quite simple indeed, juxtaposing caressing minimal electronica (you know, easy melodic fragments and quivering pulsations that sound “humanly normal”) and spurious noises of the rustle/interference/white noise derivation. This goes on, more or less evenly, for circa 37 minutes exclusive of any sort of surprise, in pleasingly calm fashion. Not a masterpiece for the ages, not at all, but definitely something that’s not harmful to the ears and, in some instances, even agreeable despite the superficial glimmering. It works adequately at medium volume with no disproportionate application, letting the wavering and the throbbing do the work minus intellectual pretences. Still, this is a classic case of “listened-archived-forgotten in a week” CD. Significance lies elsewhere.

JOHN HUDAK – Miss Dove Mr. Dove

Intended by the composer as “background/sound music”, this album was made with software treatments of previously recorded sounds of doves, the birds captured in 2007 in a small town in the Czech Republic, where Hudak and family were visiting their relatives. I’m not really sure about what to say. As much as I have a measure of respect for this artist, because the sincerity (often bordering on naïveté) that he puts in his work is palpable, there’s not a lot to be excited for here. Almost a whole hour of casually deployed micro-peeping, interesting for a while but, with the passage of time, becoming rather tiresome in its semi-anarchic design. The general sonority equals picking electric guitar strings in the overacute register and applying a tiny degree of slide, oscillation and acceleration to the deriving figurations. Undersized bleeps, atonal whistling, thin powders, you get the point. One could shout that this is real minimalism, yet this definition cannot be applied as – per Hudak’s indications – we should not pay accurate attention to what happens. Then again, an entrancing repetition would ideally determine some sort of enhanced awareness. Instead, this stuff is very likely to annoy those who are not well-versed in this kind of experimentation, and maybe even a few who are. This man has definitely given us better things in other occasions.

Memories Of Mr.23 (The Alfred Harth Chronicles)

2009-09-30T11:42:00.000-07:00

TRIO TRABANT A ROMA – State Of Volgograd

FMP

Lindsay Cooper, Alfred 23 Harth and Phil Minton were members of the Oh Moscow venture, which – prior to this recording – had touched Volgograd during a Russian tour. In particular, Cooper and Harth were so bewildered - both by the visited cities and the divergence between those microcosms and the Western Culture (pun intended) – that, once returned, they were still feeling like “being in another state, a State Of Volgograd”. The triumvirate, formed by the Frankfurter in 1990 following an invitation by the Budapest Festival, owes its designation to the namesake cheap car manufactured in East Germany, which began to appear outside those borders subsequently to the Berlin Wall’s crumbling in 1989. To quote the originator, “… Trabant is also a word for a planet orbiting a star (…) Earth was under a new ‘orbital tent’ after the iron curtain came down. It was funny to see these odd eastern cars undertaking even long-distance trips through Europe - and, ultimately, all roads lead to Rome”.

Disgracefully, this small ensemble was short-lived; yet State Of Volgograd – the solitary official release – shines among the unconditional masterpieces of improvisational skill, a career landmark for everybody involved. Starting the 90s, Cooper’s multiple sclerosis was already taking a heavy toll, gradually making impossible for her to perform live; obviously, Oh Moscow dissolved, the last concert at 1993’s London Jazz Festival. Harth – as per Vladimir Tarasov’s words – became “as famous as Michael Jackson” in Russia’s avant-garde scene over lengthy periods of clandestinely smuggled records in “hidden narrow holes” before the Soviet Union’s collapse. A TV feature on him, Balance Action, was then realized by a local station. Indeed the relationship linking A23H with that part of the globe has always been pretty special (he went on to form QuasarQuartet, with Tarasov, in 1992).

But Trio Trabant A Roma stood apart from anything else. Three masters of the respective crafts in a setting that, quite impressively, leaves the individual silhouettes easily discernible while defining their union as one of the finest collectives carved in your reviewer’s memory. This recital, captured at Esslingen’s Dieselstrasse in 1991, testimonies about several truths. First, that Cooper, Harth and Minton are rare symbols of multiform instrumental enlightenment. Besides the habitual tools – yes, Minton’s voice is the quintessential human synthesizer – they shared piano duties; Cooper handles bassoon (listen to the marvellous phrasing in the initial minutes of “Orbital Tent”), electronic effects and sopranino, Harth tampers with various kinds of saxes, bass clarinet, melodica, sopranino, Farfisa organ and a Casio sampler. The record, in general, is informed by an intelligent use of technology, especially inventively warped sampling and discreet looping.

The tracks span across a number of moods and circumstances, nourishing an immediately identifiable temperament throughout. Minton sounds slightly more restrained than usual, alternating customary intrusions (the utter destruction of the melancholic tranquillity that opens “Et All Ways Budapest” is a gas indeed) to quasi-blues echoes and heartrending excursions halfway through pygmy chanting and mournful lamentation. To this day his duet with Harth in “Strasbourg Et Amor Trans’n’Dance” belongs in the top ten of my all-time favourite improvisations, suddenly turning into unachievable abstruseness replete with misshapen harmonic connections and excruciating grief, Cooper and 23 superimposing pitch-transposed, looped-and-modified lines over Minton’s drunken crooning in stunning fashion. The whole album is a glorification of total musicianship and an ode to reciprocal listening permeated by equal doses of joy, sorrow and childish astonishment, the musicians catching a glimpse of that “unknown something” which is usually obstinately ignored by the average instrumentalist, almost forgetting the qualities of technical development to run behind colourful butterflies of instant creation. The terzetto delivers in spades, creating music that – in absolutely spontaneous conceptions – is sweetly dissident, utterly immobilizing, restlessly strong, consistently pensive, and nonetheless so amusing.

That the material result this original to our ears 18 years from the taping is the revelation of a haunting permanence, a typical trait of significant art. Brief existence notwithstanding, Trio Trabant A Roma must be placed in a hypothetical Hall Of Fame of sonic originality. A combined vision that, now as then, guides the listener to a superior level of interaction with the unusual acoustic phenomena that only certain ambits of musical exploration can elicit.

Greg Mills On Freedonia

2009-09-28T02:00:00.000-07:00

As it happens, this afternoon I picked up randomly from the enormous pile of last year’s records that are still waiting for a review, retrieving a couple of absolute gems in the process. Freedonia is run by Jay Zelenka, who in August (of 2008…) had sent me a letter which described the artistic intentions of this “micro-label”: “to promote contemporary musical endeavours and to preserve vintage recordings that are out of print or were never released”. Together with the missive there were two CDs by pianist Greg Mills who – like all musicians involved with this imprint – is based in St. Louis, the “geographic unifying factor” of the enterprise. Mills is a technically gifted architect of the Steinway, a classical grounding manifest since the first moment one hears him playing; these are the only works published under his name to date.

Esfoma was originally conceived in 1984 yet it sounds unmarked by the passage of time and totally gratifying, characterized as it is by a kind of passionate expressiveness corroborated by digital nimbleness and thoughtful artistry. This is the album that probably will satisfy the listeners who want to enjoy more harmonic content and less experimentation (although rarely the man leaves us without a serious attempt to transcend the barriers of genres). The composer/improviser himself lists the influences that lie behind these five pieces: Charles Ives, Cecil Taylor, Indian raga, 20th century European serialism, Karlheinz Stockhausen. Blue Oktober, recorded in 1998, saw the light eight years later; its subtitle is “improvised compositions for piano: solo, duos, trios and percussion”. Mills used tapes of live concerts as a basis, to which he added instant overdubs, capturing the whole in a single take. A superior stage of pianism is in this case showcased in shorter episodes and contrasting snippets, and parts of the program might result slightly difficult to digest for the scarcely trained. This record, too, is a magnificent example of clever improvisational craft, in a way appearing as the ideal complement for the contrapuntal lusciousness that characterizes the majority of Esfoma.

I would definitely recommend to get a copy of both releases for better understanding the creative vision of this musician, whose dedication to the instrument is evidently visceral. A rare occasion in which the listener can be gratified either by an attentive, concentrated examination of the material or by keeping it at lower volume while maintaining the same sort of enchantment, such is the sheer delight originated by the mere presence of those gorgeous runs, clusters and designs which – even in the knottiest sections – seem to be influenced by a touch of romantic melancholy. This is what attributes a unique voice to Mills, a hitherto obscure talent that must be brought to wider attention worldwide, a veritable rejuvenator for those who feel tired of listening to problematic albums just for the sake of belonging to certain circles of (a)pathetic intellectualism. This stuff reconciles with life by respecting the true aim of music: something that’s played from the heart, received by sensible human beings, able to elevate them that tiny bit indispensable for carrying on through the mental and emotional poverty experienced daily. Something that’s plain beautiful.

Absurdities

2009-09-28T01:57:00.000-07:00

Difficult to imagine a brand whose sonic output is more variegated than Nicolas Malevitsis’ Absurd (and related sub-labels). You can integrate these short reviews by visiting this website, further details and a lot of additional interesting things available for the reading appetite of the most curious.

AL MARGOLIS & DAN BURKE – Live April 5, 2008

More If, Bwana than Illusion Of Safety, this recording captured at Le Bonheur in Brussels is a classic meeting of low-key geniuses interested in the generation of pseudo-static electroacoustic miasmas where silence is banned and fluctuating muck that slowly turns into barely repressed rage is a given. Music that starts from near-immobility to accumulate tarnished layers and myriads of loops replete with human imperfection, radioactive pollution, labyrinthine inhospitableness and not-too-effusive contemplation. The core tissue is at times augmented by unexpected reed-and-whistle-driven predicaments (electric guitars, also?) manifesting puzzlingly upon a foundation of metropolitan textures, the whole thoroughly informed by artistic rectitude. At the end of the day, the pastiche sounds galvanizing and entrancing at one and the same time, each new listen revealing additional particulars which contribute to the sense of consistency that the performance in its entirety exudes.

LARRY GUS – Iasmos

By looking at the lovely cover artwork – a childish collage made of a sketched train with the protagonist and a lot of beautiful children’s faces stuck on it – we realize that this is not exactly hard-to-swallow music. In fact, the recording is described as a “memento for the second birthday party of Orion which took place at Iasmos, on Saturday, April 15, 2008”. Although the large part of the explanations are in Greek (therefore incomprehensible for me), I suppose that the miniatures presented by Gus - which range from cheap-yet-effective minimalism to pleasantly superficial electronic disjointedness interspersed with taped fragments from the very shindig – were mainly conceived utilizing the toy instruments visible on the CD sleeve, with a slight measure of ensuing manipulation. Some parts of this are quite congenial to the ears, other segments are just a waste of time. It lasts 32 minutes, no serious damage in any case.

RAIONBASHI – In Teufel’s Küche

Unacquainted with Raionbashi and currently deprived of internet at home (ah, the joy of inexistent technical assistance in rural areas…) I set myself to listen to this 10-inch without any kind of prejudice. First of all, I played In Teufel’s Küche at 33 rpm despite not knowing if that was correct (it worked OK). The music appears to be mostly constructed via tape manipulation, human components definitely present (slowed-down breathing, warped mutterings and so on). This mix of bodily modification and unspecified instruments is prepared with a certain degree of consideration, not sounding as a bunch of illogical events but apparently following a scheme, several of these previews of transience even fascinating in their complete indescribability. There are looping accelerations, murky signs of instability, gurgling stomachs of some sort of evil creature, the whole constantly permeated by an impending sense of hopeless despoliation. Sinisterly unsettling stuff, well made if a little rough on the edges.

ANTOINE CHESSEX – Terra Incognita

Wonderful artwork and great music, a complete package indeed from Antoine Chessex who – armed with amplified saxophone and electronics – produced a fine album of blasting violence that sounds a little more “educated” and, to some extent, controlled in respect to certain recordings I’ve heard from him. This LP runs at 33 rpm on a side and at 45 on the other (you have to drop the needle where the grooves really begin, halfway through face B) but I had to discover it by looking at the tiny details engraved in the vinyl itself. Massive distortion a go-go, with just a few interruptions (a single sax note is left lingering at one point, unbelievably for this French warmonger) and sections – in truth lasting mere seconds, such as at the record’s start – in which the unaccompanied electronics diffuse a somewhat entrancing aroma, then it’s scorching mayhem all over. Borbetomagus, Merzbow, make room for this gentleman. Among the best noise releases in a long time, the right adjective is “pulverizing”.

Down-To-Earth Spirits, One Way Or Another

2009-09-25T03:31:00.000-07:00

CELER – Brittle

Having remained alone, Will Long is not showing any sign of relenting from publishing material, either new or archival, an output whose level of proliferation is directly proportional to a consistent depth. What’s great is that - contrarily to what typically happens in this field (a successful release authorizing its originator to flood the market with useless outings) – Celer’s music is becoming better with the passage of time, which is usually the indicator of a serious personal and artistic growth. Brittle doesn’t need many words to be described, and indeed the composers themselves individuate the hypothetical effect on the listener as one of “warm comfort”, which is exactly what occurs with these subtly influencing humming superimpositions, born from modifications of piano, violin, cello, tingsha bells, harpsichord and whistle. Will and Dani transform the naked sounds of regular instruments into an inspection of recondite needs, always finding a way to generate emotional reverberations that don’t require added sugar to manifest their efficacy. Subdued reflections caressing our lives for about 50 minutes, a wonderfully unassuming company that represents much more than sheer “ambient” (although Brian Eno should be proud of these young heirs). (Low Point)

ANDREW CHALK & DAISUKE SUZUKI - In Faxfleet Clouds Uplifted Autumn Gave Passage To Kind Nature

Additional news from Chalk and Suzuki via a 12-inch EP whose sleeve’s artwork is, purely and simply, a fabulous thing to gaze at. The sides are completely different in terms of musical content. “Queen Of Heaven”, especially at moderate volume, is very easy on the ears and mind-relaxing, consisting of contiguous harmonic washes and mild colours (possibly generated from superimposed guitars and keyboards), a gently swelling permanence characterizing the whole piece, which is atypically “present” despite its temperate mood, all elements well-visible as opposed to just perceivable. “Of Beauty Reminiscing” and “The Water Clock” make use of Suzuki’s field recordings, juxtaposing them with subtler droning gradations and sparse touches of piano (supposedly by Vikki Jackman) in a somewhat more essential exploration of a few precious moments of tranquillity. One is always sure that every release coming from these artists corresponds to an object to cuddle and treasure – visually, musically, or both. (Faraway Press)

HITOSHI KOJO – Ezo

This 10-inch constitutes my first meeting with Kojo, a man who seems very interested in the spiritual aspects of things – including sonorous found objects, which is what he deals with in Ezo. In the sleeve notes (splendid artwork, by the way) one notices a thanking of Michael Northam, so I was hoping to find something along those coordinates – human frailty against natural elements in remote places, you get the picture. Instead, the noise – more or less harsh, at times layered in “contrapuntal” fashion – of the above mentioned objects remains the main character throughout, the focus almost completely centred on the abrasive qualities of metals. For the large part, this amounts to a poor man’s version of Organum bathed in lengthy reverberations. Despite the appreciable attitude shown by its engenderer this record didn’t manage to raise any emotional response, nor it can be analyzed as a serious experiment. Musical significance lies somewhere else. (Alluvial)

Ode To Byron Coley’s Creative Writing (And Extraordinary Patience)

2009-09-21T01:15:00.000-07:00

Wire readers know who Byron Coley is. For the unaware, he’s among the most intelligently ironic music writers around, a unique figurative method enabling him to perfectly describe the content of a 7-inch with just a few words. And even if one is not acquainted with the featured artists, that style is enough to enjoy his “Size Matters” page very much. In this occasion your raconteur decided to try and “do a Coley” (minus the talent) and write brief reviews of (almost) all the 7-inches received from 2007 to yesterday. That said, let it be known that – contrarily to Mr. Coley - I DON’T LIKE 7-INCHES. If you want to throw them at me anyway, please email before doing it as this is the format that comes last in my reviewing priorities (unless they come as CDR copies, that is – I hate flipping sides every three minutes). Therefore, this roundup should not encourage anyone to forward more of those small vinyl items. The piece was typed out of respect of those who were so nice to send the stuff, yet there are better ways to spend four hours in a morning (pardon the sincerity).

First of all, a handful on Drone:

MURMER – In Their Home And In Their Heads. Echoes from a London garden fused with a computer’s ventilation noise and a broken necklace’s beads from Patrick McGinley. Here’s how it appears to these ears. “In His Home”: metallic-sounding, yet vivid drones growing menacingly, then interrupted abruptly by what sounds like looped crackles that soon merge with the “drone reprise” in dramatic fashion, the whole intense and worrying, alarming in a way. “In His Head”: obscure, windy, whooshing buzzes just spotted by typically rustling, field recording-derived fragrances. Then, static (but not too much) superimpositions of feedback-ish emissions and cyclical harmonics, more ringing, hurried steps (or are they?), piercingly magnetic frequencies. Great stuff all over.

MOLJEBKA PVLSE – Lodelvx. “Lode” is a reverberating, flanging block of trance under which we seem to perceive robotically funereal chorales from a far distance, the whole characterized by a repetitive presence of treated instruments getting progressively more visible in the foreground. Pretty psychedelic, think Cluster meets Harold Budd in full-opium effect. “Lvx” is a splendidly resonant drone - halfway through the intro of Genesis’ “I Know What I Like” and Lustmord - that after a while becomes a slow, mournful song. So mesmerizing that one could listen to it for hours. This non-critic hates the 7-inch format also for this kind of reason: this is too beautiful, and too short.

HATI – Recycled Magick Drones. Processed gong drones, whistling and rattling sounds and delayed percussion. Moderately interesting, a ritual character that’s not really annoying, despite this writer’s not excessive love for lengthy reverbs. Shades of Z’EV (of whom the Polish duo have been collaborators) never transcending into actual plagiarism. All this notwithstanding, a rather unremarkable release, which – though not disturbing and sometimes even pleasing - doesn’t add anything new to my morning.

LICHT-UNG – Kristall. Annoyances of the post-industrial kind: thunderous roaring, feedback, shifting dynamics, scraping sounds appearing every once in a while. Inhumanly inconsistent, to say the least. Neither anarchic enough for getting my interest tickled, not aesthetically pleasing. Maybe it was intended that way, but here we don’t buy this type of “art”. The irregularly modified metallic jangling of the second side is even more insubstantial. A classic direct-to-trashcan article.

NOISE DREAMS MACHINA – In / Out. From the press release: “…exploring the possibilities of homemade software with free tools for sound deconstruction and real time performance”. A rather tortuous description for quite conventional noise, some of it nicely resonating, the rest more or less useless. I don’t know how there’s still an audience for stuff that would have struggled to make sense in the late 80s already. Everything sounds a hymn for the “been there, done that” character of post-industrialism. Ineffectual, worthless dabbling along well-trodden paths. The second side is much better than the first, though, adding a welcome spacey vibe to the procedures.

SHRINE – Distorted Legends Pt.1. Hailing from Bulgaria but residing in England, Shrine are (is?) another example of production which distinctly recalls the golden era of post-industrial music. Generated by “distorted synths with odd micro-noises and effects” this stuff is not so bad, mixing crunchy distortions, washes of homesick chords and interference in a candid, yet acceptable way. Probably too light-hearted to be called noteworthy, yet gifted with traces of sincerity that makes me want to save it.

And then there’s the rest:

ANTOINE CHESSEX / ARNAUD RIVIÈRE – Chessex / Rivière. One side each, Chessex on an unrecognizably distorted saxophone, Rivière on “electrophone, etc” (sic). Short, sharp, shocking noise that I used as a soundtrack while watching two elephantine heavyweights fighting (heartlessly) for the European title. Devastation, distortion, grime, harshness, aaaarrrrggghhhhhh… Nothing new under the sun, but likeable. (Le Petit Mignon)

SKELETONS OUT / NMPERIGN – Live 1978 / Marvin. Howard Stelzer and Jay Sullivan kick ass – seriously - via an assortment of sludgy aural offenses showing disaffection and hostility in a guerilla-like fragment, while Bhob Rainey and Greg Kelley don’t delude expectancies through their hard-breathing explorations of wheezy overtones, imperturbable hisses and motley chirps. No trace of politeness whatsoever in this snappy release. (Editions Zero)

PETER WRIGHT – Magpie Attack On The Back Road To Albert Town. Begins with a classic Peter Wright lucid dream, chimes and sweetness, everybody ready to be lulled to sleep. Then you’re scorched by fiery distortion, which soon turns into majestic droning with purple intumescences. The alternate mix on side B is even better, a desirable mental fog experienced as belly-dancers and fat cats float around, the penetrating equalization adding a pseudo-transistor radio character to the impalpable auras and crunchier eruptions. The man rules. (Dirty Knobby)

RED SQUIRRELS – Acicorn Twirl. What am I to say? Songs and soundscapes that look pretty disconnected from anything else, lots of taped voices, buzzing flies, street echoes, abundant manipulation, lo-fi throughout, and there are melodies, too. As my wife is cooking and a marching band makes itself heard from the nearby town - circa 1 km from here - this can be a small part of my temporary microcosm’s noise. Taken alone, it doesn’t amount to much, but I’ve heard worse things in my life. Bizarre, yet not truly revolutionary. Forgiven for this time. (Automation)

ABIKU / KID CAMARO – Abiku / Kid Camaro. Abiku rock obliquely in “Regency”, easy melodies bathing in dissonant jangling guitar, with strangely deviating bass lines that make me appreciate their mixture of Bangles and Ramones (just a bit). They can also annoy with repetitive electronic rhythms and screaming vocals which sound like a snotty toddler deprived of a lollipop, the latter incarnation plain rubbish in strictly musical sense. Kid Camaro appears as a deranged composer of polyphonic mobile ringtones, cheap drum machines and curiously bleeping synthetic outbursts adding to the ear-pleasing weirdness. One of the most absurd releases met in a long time indeed; do this people believe I’m out of my mind? Well, they’re probably right. (Automation)

D + D – Properties / Ribbons. This comes from Bryan Day’s Public Eyesore, so we know that the quality must be there (well, most probably). Indeed the guys (Dino Felipe & Dereck Higgins) are good, the item comprising a half-played half-dismembered electroacoustic concoction, easy on the ear even in its noisiest features, literally indescribable. The second side is slightly more ethereal, honking cars utilized as harmony (wonderfully), a hint of ambient-tinged minimalist repetition scarred by blubbery creatures that speak abnormally in a completely incomprehensible jargon. In all, just over five minutes of great music that I would like to listen to again, in different formats and longer durations. Pink vinyl. (Public Eyesore)

ELEKTRONAVN / EXQUISITE RUSSIAN BRIDES – Elektronavn / Exquisite Russian Brides. Yet another split edition, and this time it’s really great, both projects coming from Denmark. Elektronavn are Mia Luna Persson and Magnus Olsen Majmon; they present superb drones, achieved through superimposed vocals (more or less altered), zurna and bansuri. No pretense or affectation, just wonderful mantras that one could listen to for days. Exquisite Russian Brides is Marc Kellaway on cello, guitar, loops, bells and xylophone, and his music is equally gorgeous, a different kind of instrumental Om - gifted with lavish resonances - which I’d play ad infinitum had this been a compact disc. And if you did release CDs, folks, don’t hesitate to send them. Possibly the best 7-inch of this article; lovers of Richard Skelton might give this a try. (BSBTA)

FEAR FALLS BURNING – Woes Of The Desolate Mourner. Your chronicler used to respect Vidna Obmana, a constant source of photocopying for many and one “new ambient nonentities”, yet hasn’t been able to approve the transition to Fear Falls Burning. To me, Dirk Serries crossed the river: from imitated to imitator. His guitar drones are not exceptional in terms of profundity, not even a good copy of the icons he tries to reproduce (in this case Robert Fripp, rather shamelessly). If I want to listen to this kind of music I play the originals, not to mention my own axe. Forgive the rudeness, but the fact that this stuff has met rather favourable responses tells a lot about the superficiality of the large part of today’s audiences. The above mentioned Fripp and Richard Pinhas might consider suing. (Tonefloat/Ikon)

(12K)inds Of Low-Budget, But Not Cheap Ambient

2009-09-18T02:18:00.000-07:00

SEAWORTHY – 1897

Originally taped in a former ammunitions bunker in Sydney (whose date of construction gives the release its title), operated by the Australian Navy until the Gulf War’s era and now unutilized, this record was born from about six hours of location recordings on 4-track cassette, minidisc and computer upon which Cameron Webb – Seaworthy’s deus ex machina – worked for a full year in between the residual free moments granted to him by his first paternity. A gently wavering album divided in crepuscular ambient pieces – stretched drones spreading an imperceptible influence in subtle fashion – and, in particular, shimmering guitars revolving around one, maximum two tonal centres for protracted spans with rare mildly dissonant variations, the whole at times underlined by singing birds and other environmental incidences. Ideal for a parenthesis of quietness when one’s bothered by upsetting thoughts or after a sleepless night, this music does not ask for more than just existing and breathing in close proximity to listeners who don’t feed the insatiable ambition of analytical questioning. Nice enough job, but I’d have preferred a smaller amount of glowing arpeggios in favour of additional motionless auroras: the droning tracks are in fact way better than the rest. An entire CD of them would nearly correspond to a work of art. Instead this is only a pleasurable listen, which is OK in any case.

PILLOWDIVER – Sleeping Pills

German René Margraff drives the Pillowdiver project, which takes its origins from economical technical means such as a 4-track cassette (again!) and various stompboxes, the whole fed by the jangling soul of a Fender Jazzmaster, with a modicum of synthesizer and field recordings added for complement. Although the press release defines this CD as a “dark and dreamy album of often-melancholic, post-rock influenced ambience”, to me it sounds like a collection of demos where, technologic poverty notwithstanding, a number of interesting combinations can be individuated. The way in which the guitar chords are layered, the appealing harmony deriving from certain superimpositions despite a thorough straightforwardness, the avoiding of any kind of excessive ingredient are the principal good features of a relaxing, if a little mono-dimensional offer. The actual defect, as far as I’m concerned, is that a few solutions appear indeed too easy, sketchy ideas thrown on tape just to try out the instruments, but which don’t possess any artistic value. Fortunately there are less of these occurrences than pleasing tracks, thus we might consider Sleeping Pills a sufficiently rewarding outing - if you’re not picky, that is.

12k

On Taâlem

2009-09-15T01:24:00.000-07:00

Lyophilized commentaries about a series of 3-inches by the French label who contends to Mystery Sea and Afe the leadership in a peculiar contest between the rare dark ambient/ethereal drones/field recordings imprints which still manage to publish something interesting every once in a while. Thanks to Jean-Marc for his patience in the long wait (whistling an old tune…).

HORCHATA VS. SIL MUIR – Horchata Vs. Sil Muir

I never listened to Horchata (Michael Palace) before, whereas Andrea Marutti and Andrea Ferraris aka Sil Muir (here credited with guitars and treatments) are known quantities on these shores. Two purring tracks are featured: “Ahnedonia” is pretty much worn out, a rather superficial drone based upon extensive reverberations and nebulous non-manifestations, similar to thousands of equally insignificant other pieces in this field. “Time Dilation” is unquestionably better, the pulsation of the harmonics definitely more gripping, the atmospheric qualities on another level - almost excellent, I’d say. It makes me feel like dreaming of a dirigible’s hum. Too bad for the echoing clicks entering the scene after a while, the whirring alone was enough.

CORDELL KLIER – Phono 4

Aerials must be raised high to detect what’s happening in the first part of this segment (headphones are recommended), but the micro-sounds and the small noises perceived have already been utilized hundreds of times and don’t make much of an impact on me these days. Tiny crackles, rustling objects – you get the picture – yet without a precise architecture, or at least a consequence we can be really glad about. Things become a little more interesting when strange purring frequencies are introduced, shifting the balance towards the area where the influence of sound on the psyche is deeper. Still, the concoction remains somewhat incomplete lacking a real compositional plan, the feeling one of excessive fragmentariness. Klier has definitely treated us to superior material in the past.

VOX POPULI! – Soft Entrance To Nature’s Camino De Luz

Axel Kyrou dedicated his work “to all the animals featured” in it. This is already a good reason to love him, and the sonic aspects are also sufficiently agreeable; in fact, he seems to have included a lot of environmental factors that I like: gorgeous frogs, sleep-inducing crickets, the fabulous arching drone of a motor aircraft, various kinds of evocative echoes. The urban activities were taped in disparate regions such as Burkina Faso and Okinawa (besides France of course). The only thing to abhor is the presence of synthetic strings and choirs - kill those presets once and for all, please - and (luckily rare) elementary melodies, but I’m willing to forgive this time. A candid effort that won’t remain in the annals of concrete/electroacoustic music – it’s really a tad too naïve for that - yet has managed to find a little place in my heart, at least for this morning.

TZESNE – Crossing TierraHueca

Four tracks. “Thorns And Lizards”: skilful harmonic layering of different droning chords, ebbing and flowing for maximum nerve pleasure, wonderful stuff to play for hours. “Dulce Artefacto II”: gathering of jets, maybe crickets, various hisses and frequencies from the environment. Already heard, but very well made and growing on the listener with surprising efficacy, also a nice perfume for your own room. “Place”: undefined location recordings acting as a background for an electronic drone that could even derive from a processed guitar, then a breathtaking nocturnal resonance rises to shut our mind up once and for all; one appreciates seclusion and feels admiration for the composer at the same time during this great piece. “Swarm”: on a basis of nebulous uncertainty sounding like a peculiarly equalized electric piano, amplified (and possibly pitch-shifted) insect sounds prelude to another enthralling near-motionless growth. Among the thousands of useless releases typical of this musical area, this 3-inch sets the bar quite high in terms of quality, especially in virtue of the artist’s conciseness: a good idea shown for a few minutes, then goodbye and welcome to the next, no endlessly boring suites full of nothing. A paradigm that should be imitated.

MATHIAS DELPLANQUE – Ma Chambre Quand Je N’y Suis Pas (Paris)

If I understand French correctly, the title means “my room when I’m not there”. The intro sounds rather normal, lots of echoes – presumably from a city setting – as heard from within an apartment with windows open. Then a huge mumbling low frequency swallows everything, but the noise from the road is still distinctly perceptible, utilized by Delplanque as an indispensable shade. After a while the whole becomes a little more rarefied, large empty spaces and desert vistas characterizing the evolution of the piece. Synthetic waves – or perhaps it’s electronically modified wind? - seem to constitute the origin of the only factor of slight change, whereas from the underground a strong pulse appears and disappears worryingly; from then on, you get the customary helping of heavily equalized aircrafts, cars, frogs (?) and steps. Overall well conceived, yet the ingredients are overly familiar to define the work as unique. It does sound nice, though.

MICHAEL NORTHAM – Memory Of A

The incessant harsh buzz of a drill (or similar electric machinery) introduces to an enticing static soundscape whose body is gradually enlarged by progressive stratifications, each element taken from the surrounding world – the large part, apparently, from human-related working activities but I could be wrong - and placed in context through the exploitation of its harmonic capability, meaning that every constituent plays a different note in this splendidly uneven drone. Think of Charlemagne Palestine’s resonance studies with the oscillators replaced by concrete sounds. It doesn’t take much for the brain to be completely subjugated, and the slight tolling of metals playing basic rhythms and figurations upon the mantra-like constancy add a welcome touch of unquiet uncertainty in an otherwise utterly entrancing piece, the intrinsically awesome slow sliding perceivable during the last minutes and the final organ shades confirming Northam as one of the greats.

DVD Weekend #1

2009-09-14T01:58:00.000-07:00

One of my impossible-to-realize desires is having more time to watch (and listen to) music-related DVDs. Here’s the first tranche of a number of audio/video releases on this format - accumulated in 18 months or so - analyzed and reviewed at long last. I’ll try with three per week, but this is NOT an official promise.

CRISTOPHER CICHOCKI – Elemental Shift

It took two years to Cristopher Cichocki to create this collection of “video compositions”. Elemental Shift was published in May 2008, a classic instance for which a mea culpa is necessary for the unintentionally protracted postponement of the review. Through a painstaking assemblage of images seamed in stunningly perfect synchronization with a brain-shattering kind of music - which includes all sorts of city noises, toxic distortions, incendiary propulsions and pneumatic rhythms capable of bending iron wills – this artist puts us in contact with an area of the mind which is equidistant from a complete collapse and a meditative state. Trying to focus on the overwhelming successions of infinitesimally short frames while absorbing the unremitting sonic fusillades will produce a knockout, naturally in Cichocki’s favour. You just can’t expect to be able to memorize the details, but are allowed to retain a vague impression of what was used to concoct that particular episode. On the contrary, abandoning any defence to be avalanched by the sheer kaleidoscopic authority of these ever-changing segments is perhaps advisable if you’re not particularly good in concentrating. This is not everybody’s item, though: the tracks are nastily snappy, replete with quick-as-hell pictorial sequences of industrial machineries, bleak landscapes and stunning contrasts between natural elements and metropolitan suggestions fused into staggering mixtures whose strength grows minute by minute. An exception is the title track, entirely shot at night, a few distant lights – passing cars, other less decipherable entities – underlined by a slightly calmer soundscape made of field recordings and machine-derived pulses. The menu is completed by a live performance called “Cycle By Cycle” which comprises some of the original pieces. I won’t advise anybody to “keep an eye” on this man, as there’s a risk of remaining visually shocked. Epileptic people should also avoid this, given the potentially disastrous effects of flickering pictures (a warning appears as the beginning of the DVD). For the rest, Elemental Shift is a must-have, in the hope that it’s not too late for securing one of the 250 copies of this limited edition, coming “in a thin canister with found fish bones from the Salton Sea sculpturally placed inside” (quoting from the press release…my promo came in an anonymous transparent sleeve, alas). (Table Of Contents)

RACHEL SHEARER – Fakerie

Previously known as Lovely Midget, Rachel Shearer presents what the press blurb calls a “digital séance of aural and visual sculptures”. Concretely speaking, this item consists of a 22+ minute mixed-media composition: the video is pretty simple, minimal in the truest sense of the word, with seven fixed lights – shaped in a way that recalls Ursa Major - whose glowing intensity changes according to the dynamic modifications of the musical tissue, which in itself is quite meagre (and, in any case, better than an optical counterpart that didn’t manage to elicit the presumed states of mental alteration it was supposed to generate; on the contrary, the experience was rather unimpressive for yours truly). As far as sounds are concerned, things get more interesting when the whole is left to propagate without particular consequences expected. Shearer – who utilized guitars, keyboards and processing – is helped by Sean O’Reilly’s guitar samples in an ear-pleasing soundscape halfway through a granular kind of ambient and a cricket-ish accumulation of acute frequencies interspersed, especially in the first half, with rare clusters that would seem to prelude to stronger sensations. Instead, the music gradually disposes of that body, turning into a flimsy electroacoustic embrace which can easily be enjoyed minus the graphic complements and, at last, is perceived as welcome even while one is doing something else. Whether you use the images or not, best results will be achieved by leaving the disc spinning in its predefined loop mode. All in all, a nice but not extraordinary release. (Family Vineyard)

OLIVIA BLOCK / SANDRA GIBSON / LUIS RECODER – Untitled

A monochrome picture (by Gibson and Recoder) showing a white rectangle with a grey contour upon a black background. Initially, the borders dissolve very slowly; with the passage of time, the entire figure’s focus starts being modified, in sequence becoming semi-transparent, hazy, partially or totally eclipsed. Approximately at halfway point, flashing lights - destined to play a primary role from then on – emerge at first indistinctly, like from behind a translucent screen, then more incisively through constant flickering and lots of quickly changing shapes, similarly to what happens when a film begins to decay or even melt (as it often happened in this reporter’s childhood when dad tampered with our Super 8mm family movies). This goes on until the end, with appreciable psychedelic effects if one concentrates sufficiently. The superb soundtrack is provided by Block, its interaction with the visual counterpart perfectly coincident. Indeed the sonic content constitutes the outstanding aspect of the reviewed item; for what’s my knowledge of this woman’s opus, Untitled surely belongs in its upper echelon. Starting with a stifled toneless vibration, the piece develops a marvellous static texture born from the superimposition of extremely low hums and cyclical hissing frequencies, with the addition of infinitesimal yet clearly traceable physical elements. The unfathomable rumbles starting after the 20th minute are alone worth of silent admiration, accompanied as they are by a sizzling mass of electronics and uneven recurrences between nerve-stimulating buzzing and electrostatics, the whole increasing in harshness and volume as the continuous crackle is superimposed to other types of pressurized sonority. As a single pitch comes up in the mix other noises iconize degeneration, soon swallowed by awesome Om-ming drones. Each section flows naturally into the subsequent one, warranting a continuity that represents the winning feature of this amazing composition, which ends exactly where it began. On a second thought, this is perhaps THE best music I’ve heard from Olivia Block and - most sincerely - I played it again sans images twice already, only to seize additional clues in regard to why I’m loving it so much. And, contrarily to his beloved editor-in-chief at Paris Transatlantic, your darling prattler even managed to build (well, sort of…) the impossibly designed light cardboard box that lodges the disc. Ikea docet, Dan. (SoSEDITIONS)