More Random Picks From The Long-Waiting 2008 Heap

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

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

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

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

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)

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)

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

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)

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

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

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

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)

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

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

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

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)

Pioneers

VARIOUS ARTISTS – Source: Music Of The Avant Garde

Pogus

Source was a biannual new music journal published from 1967 to 1973, which contained articles, interviews and scores by notable names of what, at that time, was considered the pioneering fringe of XX century composers. The issues were enriched by a series of 10-inch LPs, all of which have been digitalized and cleaned up for this triple CD release. An important historic document, for which I settled on a track-by-track review. Bear in mind that a few of these compositions were unknown to this writer before (and no, I’m NOT gonna tell you which ones), therefore my view is – as usual – uninfluenced by the composer’s repute in the circles of sapience but is only determined by a liking/disliking of the single selection, regardless of the prestige.

Robert Ashley, “The Wolfman” (1964). Noisy, mucky and ultimately annoying, not managing to sustain the weight of time – and I wouldn’t have liked it even then, the year of my birth. Voice and electronics (by Gordon Mumma) are the basic constituents of a confused mayhem in which I can’t find a single moment of interest, stabbing frequencies and sludgy distortion becoming overwhelmingly insufferable as the minutes flow, Ashley’s warped vocalizations sounding as inconsequential howling to these ears. This should symbolize, or at least imply, some sort of theatrical gesture but it’s just a mess.

David Behrman, “Wave Train” (1966). A great composition mixing freckled drones from the insides of a piano and rather tense feedback, the whole generated via the manual control of the level of guitar microphones placed on the piano strings. Ominous and obscurely resonant, almost perfect dynamic pacing, with sudden outbursts of violence amidst long moments of quasi-stillness. Mumma is here again, always handling the electronics chores. A cadaverous coldness transformed in splendid odes to spurious echo, music that David Jackman could be envious of. Nearly a masterpiece.

Larry Austin, “Accidents” (1967). David Tudor on “electrically prepared piano”, Austin assisting him on electronics. Intriguing disproportion between the soft approach to the instrument, noises appearing only when a note is “accidentally” hit while trying to depress the keys silently, and the chaos of a percussively rumbling, hard-hitting piece which amazes repeatedly. Bouncing, throbbing, menacingly roaring sounds all over the place, a comprehensive dismantling of the piano’s acoustic personality coming from a complex set of instructions and gestures. Like a minefield for sensitive pianists, who are forced by the score to complete the course without generating further trouble. Great stuff.

Allan Bryant, “Pitch Out” (1967). Three hybrid guitars (Barbara Bryant, Carol Plantamura, Frederic Rzewski) plus Bryant on electronics. Unconventional methods, atypical manifestations of pluck-and-strum deformation (the instruments are not similar to your typical Strat but are described more or less as boards with different kinds of strings). Transcendental reverberations and wacky figurations abound, and there are sections in which the alleged influence on Elliott Sharp and Sonic Youth quoted in the liners is almost agreeable. Modern-sounding daydreaming with the right dose of candour: I like this piece for its large part.

Alvin Lucier, “I’m Sitting In A Room” (1970). Well, I can’t fool anyone on this. Is there still someone who doesn’t know this disquieting repetition of a single statement by Lucier? For those who just came back from Saturn, a progressive alteration of the composer’s voice is achieved by recording subsequent generations of tapes engraved by the same content until what is said becomes completely indecipherable, at first sounding like a minimalist underwater robot which stutters a little and, in the end, as a flock of hoarse birds caught in a wind gallery. One of the absolute musts of contemporary music, mandatory listening for the novice.

Arthur Woodbury, “Velox” (1970). Computer music “enriched” by the analogue sound waves of a Moog synthesizer. An uncomplicated piece, kind of a second-hand version of the sound effects of Plan 9 From Outer Space: scarcely variable, not amusing, very superficial in terms of emotional response (which in my case was nil). Not even bad enough to be hated, it just stands there with all those “whooaeeyy, whooaeeyy” and really doesn’t mean anything. With the passage of time this repetitive insignificance verges on the ridiculous. Forgettable, without regret.

Mark Riener, “Phlegeton” (1970). Take a sad Arthur Woodbury and make it worse. This is one of those items who may have caused certain individuals to hate experimental music in the first place. At least this lasts only five minutes, containing unimpressively chaotic reiterations of ugly sounds obtained via…(the piece ends before I manage to make sense of a tortuous description whose complicatedness is inversely proportional to its importance, a “who cares” attitude prevailing at the end). Delete? Hell yeah!

Larry Austin, “Caritas” (1971). Computer-generated substances that get definitively enhanced (mashed?) by a Buchla Electronic Music System. Variegated and polymorphic, this stuff does not strain our patience’s muscles, possessing a volatile quality that renders the listening experience at least interesting, if not amusing. Picture a humongous malfunctioning calliope played by the bad Gremlin’s granddad: after seven minutes, either you reach for the aspirin and stop the playback, or you’re headed to MDH (Mental Disintegration Heaven). And there’s still the second half to endure. But this is a nice one.

Stanley Lunetta, “Moosack Machine” (1971). More computer music obtained from a so-defined “sculpture” full of oscillators and transducers, which apparently was sensitive to “changes in light, temperature and wind direction as well as movements of the people around”. They must have been bad human specimens, as this temperamental machine attacks, spits and hits with clamorous outbursts of hostile emissions which often sound absolutely great in their complete uncontrollability. One of the loveliest moments of the whole set, the perfect soundtrack for a sociopath’s tranquil evening.

Lowell Cross, “Musica Instrumentalis: Video II (B)/(C)/(L)” (1965). Now, THIS is a piece that has aged well. Designed to be generated by a two-channel tape or “the stereo phonograph record”, the system connected to modified monochrome TV sets, this is a splendidly sober example – which should be followed by many imitators - of how drones must be used. A hypnotizing, enthralling matter, shifting weights and slightly changing intensities attributing to the music a sense of “motion in stillness” which is exactly what separates art from mere experimentation. The final five minutes are characterized by abrupt variations of frequencies and arching trajectories, but the allure remains.

Arrigo Lora-Totino, “English Phonemes” (1970). The composer call this a “verbophony”, words gradually reduced to fragments or phonemes which ideally “keep their peculiar semantic power and are sound transmissions of concepts”. Very cerebral stuff, interesting in parts, slightly tiresome in others. It seems to follow the typical Italian habit of forgetting about vital essences (of music and, indeed, most everything else) in favour of the ostentation of an affected intellectualism. A little bit like explaining all the positions of Kama Sutra to an aroused partner without effectively performing them. Still, there’s something here that keeps pecking at our attention, and the fifteen minutes are swallowed with ease.

Alvin Curran, “Magic Carpet” (1970). Suspended strings and chimes in a room where anyone can walk, pick, pluck and touch these dangling sonic sources. Pleasurable enough to listen to on record, probably much better having had the chance of participating directly. This was inspired by Paul Klerr’s String Structures, which Curran saw at the artist’s home and fell in love with. The second half is preferable in terms of (involuntary) aural gratification, as the music seems to flow more naturally, becoming highly suggestive at times. Additional points given for the fact that the composer now lives at ten minutes distance from where I grew up in Rome (yet we never met).

Annea Lockwood, “Tiger Balm” (1971). A great tape piece which the composer also calls a “ritual”. Strange, unclassifiable music halfway through electronic manipulation, theatre and musique concrete which testifies once more the originality and freshness of Lockwood’s concepts. The central section is somehow unsettling, deformed utterances, sighs and moans walking us across the aural depiction of an altered state of mind – or an orgasm, if you will. The finale is totally mystifying, a mix of motors and reiterative tuned percussion that lingers in the memory even after the ceremony’s end.

Latest Edition

A few words about the last five releases from Dave Stapleton’s imprint. British Jazz is alive and kicking.

DAVE STAPLETON – Catching Sunlight

Subtitled – with not excessive fantasy – Music For An Imaginary Film, the track titles derive from fragments of poems written by Julie Tippetts. Stapleton leads his comrades (trumpeter Neil Yates, bassist Paula Gardiner and drummer Elliott Bennett) through a beguilingly restrained sonic expedition typified by contemplative linearity and interesting developments that may find an origin in time-honoured modulations but end depicting a precise individuality, deft touches of refinement and classiness never, ever turning into overindulgence. Some pieces include the Lunar Saxophone Quartet, who are used to perform scores by composers such as Graham Fitkin and Michael Nyman; their intercessions – masterfully designed by the composer, who wrote and arranged the whole album – gift the music with a further layer of intense severity and impeccable impartiality. “Under The Canopy” recalls Lindsay Cooper’s best work (circa Rags) and a passage of the subsequent “Of Willow Fringe” made me think of Philip Glass’ Glassworks. The peg-legged rhythmic recurrence of the short “Stalking The Vison” is another noteworthy episode. The entire record is tinged by a proclivity to atmospheres rooted in a not-so-distant past - with particular reference to the 70s - which is a typical Stapleton trait, highlighted by Yates’s trumpet-shaded melancholic moods, a defining quality for the large part of this material. The leader is right: Catching Sunlight sounds more “absorbing soundtrack” than sheer jazz.

DAVE KANE’S RABBIT PROJECT – The Eye Of The Duck

Bassist Kane’s first release as the leader of a Leeds-based quintet consisting of himself plus Matthew Bourne (Fender Rhodes), Joost Hendrickx (drums), Simon Kaylor (tenor sax) and Simon Beddoe (trumpet). Classic case of “doing it all, and doing it (technically) well”: the Rabbits are skilful musicians able to respect a score down to the infinitesimal detail yet ready to improvise fiercely when the occasion arises. The Eye Of The Duck is an album influenced from – and inspired to – a quantity of genres, although completely infused with the genuine will of transcending them. Bourne soars and punches the solar plexus at the same time during a frantic solo in “Hum”, among the most schizoid selections on offer, ranging from nearly devastating autonomy to tightly executed dissonant contrapuntal sketches. The title track is another example of dynamically charged fragmentariness interspersed with a witty kind of unquiet linearity, Kane continuously shifting the weight of his plucking in the high register of the bass, Kaylor and Beddoe walking hand in hand over emaciated melodic hypotheses, the rhythm section now securely locked, now totally disjointed in a sort of ritual destruction of jazz rock’s icon. An unhidden desire of shattering formats characterizes practically any minute of the record in almost perverse fashion; a few more breathers every once in a while wouldn’t have harmed the music, which remains brilliantly conceived and implemented but is probably going to be exclusively appreciated by trained ears, still without any promise of assimilation. Translation: excellent performance, somewhat unenthusiastic psychophysical response.

GEOFF EALES TRIO – Master Of The Game

No discordances or deviations, only a timidly smiling heart and class to spare in this lovely piano trio that doesn’t swing in excess, privileging gracefully suggestive atmospheres to the smoke of downtown clubs. The leader is flanked by bassist Chris Laurence and drummer Martin France, three sensitive musicians able to make each decision count while lacking that kind of “look-ma-no-hands” juggling attitude which transforms potentially useful intuitions into plain circus. Even the tracks where harmonic dissolution seem to prevail at first – for example, “Awakening” – at last become emotionally charged explorations of melancholic moods, Eales’ mastery in evoking his influences and rendering them personal statements attributing a high artistic quality to the message that the group tries to communicate to the listener. A particular note of merit should be given to Laurence’s style: rarely we meet bassists whose approach to the instrument is informed by such a sober virtuosity, not to mention the splendid arco sections heard in “Magister Ludi”. In this evocative context France is the ideal percussive link, an unvoiced controller of every propulsive instance who seems to wear discreetness as a vocation, guaranteeing the perfect functioning of the rhythmic mechanisms almost without appearing. The press release cites names like Brad Mehldau, Esbjörn Svensson, Bill Evans and Bud Powell as references, but – from the bottom of my jazz ignorance – Geoff Eales is truly gifted with a distinctive instrumental voice - and seducing, too: just listen to the progressions of “Inner Child”, or certain elegiac passages of “Lachrymosa” - pertinently dedicated to Svensson - then let me know. This is a beautiful album that comes highly recommended, regardless of what your specializations are. Strikingly charming music, that’s all.

MARK LOCKHEART GROUP – In Deep

There are times in a release in which everything is set to work perfectly – every detail in place, all the connections active, the engines ready to roar – yet, somehow, the final outcome leaves me pretty cold. That seems to be the prevalent feel while appraising In Deep, first album by saxophonist Lockheart - of Loose Tubes renown - for Edition. Also comprising Dave Priseman (trumpet), Liam Noble (piano), Jasper Hoiby (bass) and Dave Smith (drums), this quintet is a solid entity whose technical command is incontestable; during certain parts of “Golden People”, or the piano interlude in “Not In My Name”, listening is actually a pleasure. What this writer misses, though, is extremely important in the emotional economy related to the process of enjoying a recording. Truly memorable pieces - meaning tracks that really stand out, alone able to push the whole forward through sheer incisiveness in the memory - can’t be found anywhere. Interesting sections do abound, the playing always perfect, the musicians absolutely reliable in terms of dexterity, but passion remains unperceived. One understands something about the elements of the sonic construction, admires the architectural side of things; still, no inner vibrations, alas. Waiting for a scintilla to put our heart on fire, we only receive lessons in how to respectfully execute a score, without concessions to excitement or curiosity. Even the few mildly sensual implications seem to be discarded in favour of more cerebral solutions, which is quite appalling.

TROYKA – Troyka

Chris Montague (guitar and loops), Joshua Blackmore (drums) and Kit Downes (organ) are Troyka, an emerging trio of the London scene whose press release-declared inspirations are - of all things and persons - Aphex Twin, Tim Berne and Wayne Krantz (hell, not even I managed to remember him working for Steely Dan and Billy Cobham, despite an ongoing Guitar Player subscription). Now, you might expect some strange potion – perhaps smelling of late 70s – containing neat rhythmic propulsions and cutting sharpness at once, right? Well, not exactly. Let’s start with saying that Montague’s loops constitute a fundamental colour in various portions of this music, an appreciated counter altar to a style that definitely owes something to the contemporary masters of jazz-rock but remains voluntarily (and cleverly) unrefined, at times rather autistic in its cyclical angularity, giving a welcome dose of paranoid freshness to the dissertations. More Chuck Vrtacek/O’Meara (Forever Einstein) than Mike Stern or John Scofield, if that helps. The slightly flummoxing suspensions generated by the union of these elements with the dissonant minimalism, so to speak, set in motion by Downes’ reiterative figurations are then broken into smaller fragments by the apparently disconnected drumming of Blackmore, who on the contrary seams odd metres like drinking fresh water, thus demonstrating a superior technical class. An involving funky feel - helpful in forgetting about certain not-overly-innovative instrumental phraseologies - characterizes pieces such as “Twelve” or the initial “Tax Return”; indeed intelligence and positive energy abound most everywhere, yet calling this CD a must would be a lie. It does contain several stimulating ideas, though, and – in essence – sounds legitimate, which is a major plus. Troyka aren’t a waste of time: for sure they have the means to further develop a strong individuality.

Aidan Baker: Two Collaborations And A Double Vinyl LP

It’s been a long time without reports about this perennially inspired man, who seems to have found the preferred method of expression – and growing quantities of success – with Nadja, his duo with Leah Buckareff. But when one listens to the following projects, shades of the Baker of old are still there to be in awe of.

AIDAN BAKER / TIM HECKER – Fantasma Parastasie

Toronto versus Vancouver (where Hecker was born), about 33 minutes for 66 tracks divided in cycles of 11, the music nevertheless flowing without interruptions. This record sounds like a slightly irregular parade of moods: the piece starts with mind-altering digital crunch, continues with layered overdriven guitars, walks across calmer interludes replete with delicately clean arpeggios, ends with looping rotations halfway through distress and melancholy leading into a wonderfully humming finale, low frequencies wavering all over the place swallowing our resistance while increasing the sense of doubt. Unintentional echoes of Fennesz and (more vaguely) Basinski are alternated with the most caustically critical situations, distortion often on the verge of timbral degeneration. Not exactly one of the musts, but overall a pretty solid outing. (Alien8)

AIDAN BAKER & THE INFANT CYCLE – Rural Sprawl

Much longer than the above release at circa 64 minutes, the joint effort of Baker with J.D. Jung (aka The Infant Cycle) is also a tad more ear-gratifying, perhaps due to the larger time span which allows a wider range of diffusion to ideas and sounds - and, consequently, a better penetration of memory. Two of the four pieces were originally released in 2002 as Rural (on Blade Records) The distinct personalities are well visible, the conjunction of the prevalently mechanical character of TIC’s instrumentation with AB’s ever-expanding steamy auras working quite nicely. A sickish cyclicality remains at the basis of an engulfing kind of estrangement which only rarely gets soothed by characteristically celestial cracks caused by the Canadian’s stratified cries (which, for my taste, have always brought superior results when those lysergic fuzzy guitar lines are discarded, leaving the looping mass alone to overwhelm a transfixed listener; Baker is still the man when it comes down to that). An appreciable game of proposal and acceptance of reciprocal suggestions between the artists, translating into a genuine will of sounding a little different than expected. Definitely a good one, yet it takes a while before realizing. (Zhelezobeton)

AIDAN BAKER – Gathering Blue

This limited edition 2-LP set could represent an acceptable solution for those who missed a few significant works by the Canadian loopmeister which were published - in similarly scarce quantities – years ago in different formats. It comprises in fact some of his most morbidly hypnotic pieces (in which Baker also utilizes the voice in typically whispered style) like The Taste Of Summer On Your Skin, Remixes and Cicatrice, not to mention the cover of Joy Division’s “Twenty-Four Hours”. While the music remains to this day absolutely compelling, an exquisite taster of what this man can elicit via the sheer superimposition of infinite notes and ghostly murmurs, it should be emphasized that the choice of releasing this stuff on vinyl makes sense only if we consider Gathering Blue a collector’s item. I hate clicks and pops when listening to something that’s able to mesmerize to such an extent, can’t stand the degradation of low frequencies whose power can’t be contained by the grooves, and equally loathe the reality of having this level of entrancement repeatedly interrupted to flip the disc and start again. Still, these four sides contain high-quality materials from which a lot of people have been fishing ideas and impressions unashamedly, thus making obvious the uniqueness of Baker’s impressively prolific mind and stretched-out artistic vision. (Equation)

Past Echoes, Remote Memories, Sweltering Heat

With temperatures nearing 40°, even listening to music becomes more of a difficult task. Does that prevent this sweating man from typing? Not yet, but it’s getting increasingly hard these days to perform regular everyday activities. Here’s a consistent grouping of not-exactly-recent releases that I finally managed to spin and properly evaluate. Some of them date from 2007 (!), although they were received last year or so. These reviews are just another pitiable attempt to catch up with the enormous delay caused by the constantly mounting quantities of recordings that get sent to me, for which – as always – I’m thanking and apologizing at one and the same time, especially considering that many labels have probably seen their catalogue flourishing in the meantime. Jeez.

CHRIS WATSON – Cima Verde

Vivid reminiscences evoked by a series of field recording sessions conducted with proverbial mastery by Watson in the occasion of Sound Threshold, a manifestation occurred in Northern Italy in July 2008 which, in the words of curators Lucia Farinati and Daniela Cascella, aimed to explore “the visual, natural, literary and acoustic landscape of the Trentino region in conjunction with the latest research in the fields of ecology, technology and archaeology”. Watson collected several suggestive aural snapshots from Monte Bondone and Parco Di Paneveggio (Pale Di San Martino) - the places where he spent his residency - starting from higher altitudes to gradually “descend to earth”. Needless to say, listening to the roaring boom of the winds, the tantalizing liquefaction of snow, the breathtaking hush of the night always gives a measure of ecstatic suspension, but – once more – birds are the ones who steal the show: a black grouse heard in “Bucaneve” has nothing to envy to a modern analogue synthesizer, tawny owls sound majestically melancholic in “Le Crone”, and the nightingale that seals the package with a solo performance in “Valle Dei Venti” is the nearest thing to perfection a human being could ever listen to. Although it looks like this was a one-off event (the website doesn’t seem to confirm happenings for this year), do something to get a copy of this obscure nugget. If, after this, you can enter a wood and really learn to pin your ears back that’ll be even better. At least before the fires voluntarily caused by that lesser race called “man” end destroying any shrub left standing. (Sound Threshold)

JACQUES DEMIERRE – One Is Land

Two lengthy improvisations for solo piano by Demierre, whose work was alien to me until this afternoon. “Sea Smell” is a rumbling, literally booming attack to the lower regions of the keyboard via continuously percussive hammering, almost 24 minutes of deeply resonant clangour rather close to the most recent things heard from Charlemagne Palestine (inclusive of his last collaboration with Christoph Heemann, Saiten In Flammen on Streamline). Amidst the huge jumble of fluctuating upper partials and chaotic low-frequency ebullience, extremely rare “chords” are at times perceived, a bit like watching fishes jumping out, and immediately returning into exceptionally turbulent waters. In regard to variableness I prefer the other track, “Land Smell”, an exploration of the inner parts of the instrument that – although not really breaking new ground – introduces a welcome element of diversity in an otherwise too monotonous recipe. In particular, Demierre extracts lovely harmonics by hitting the strings with what could be a mallet, or by some alternative kind of preparation, generating sections in which a peculiar tolling lets us forget about the actual source of this music, rendering the sound more akin to that of a stifled bell; the rest is classic “zip-clink-and-twirl” nitpicking inside the big box. Moderately interesting record, especially in the second half - but definitely not a perfect shot. (Creative Sources)

DWELLING – Ainda É Notte

First piece of a three-CD promo packet received last year from Equilibrium, a label from Lisbon specialized in “neo-classical, folk, world and ambient music, inspired both classically and traditionally, often presented in acoustic form and bringing to live an intimist (sic) setting”. This disc comprises materials quite distant from the stuff I usually write about, but Dwelling – from Portugal, too - play well, with taste and sincerity. Two violins, different types of guitars and basses and a decidedly non-virtuosic female vocalist, Catarina Raposo, singing in Portuguese and English, peaceful songs bracketed by intriguing pseudo-medieval counterpoints and absolute – at times excessive – harmonic simplicity. Madredeus meets Penguin Café Orchestra, anyone? Everything very consonant with just a little spice every once in a while, generally due to an intelligent bass line. Nice dialogues between the guitars, skilfully and gratifyingly intertwined. Suitable for melancholic afternoons when one feels doing nothing. (Equilibrium)

HEXPEROS – The Garden Of The Hesperides

A quintet from Italy mainly fashioned after Dead Can Dance. That should spell “enough” for me, who already consider the originals overhyped; I went on and listened anyway. The instrumentation includes flute, double bass, guitar, keyboards, harps and two violins, and the female soloist and co-founder Alessandra Santovito (not always impeccable as far as intonation is concerned) sings in Italian-accented English or modulates in pseudo-operatic, at times hilarious style; while we're on the subject, anything Anglophone contaminated by Latin inflections means sacrilege in this house. A semi-synthetic mishmash of gothic and medieval echoes with occasional exotic percussion, rather postcard-ish in its polite implementation. Indeed the group plays decorously, but the whole sounds mostly mildewed. Workstation-tinged electronics amidst the acoustic flavours frequently represent an avoidable out-of-tune element. The Lisa Gerrard-like nuances are often (voluntarily?) kept soft in the mix, which in general appears a bit inhomogeneous to these ears. It’s not a nauseating record yet it results quite lifeless, outdated and, in some cases, comparable to an Ed Wood soundtrack (“The Warm Whisper Of The Wind”, “Artemisia”). (Equilibrium)

LES FRAGMENTS DE LA NUIT – Musique Du Crépuscule

Third and last offer in this Equilibrium triptych, Les Fragments De La Nuit are a French group led by pianist Michel Villar and violinist Ombeline Chardes, people actively involved in the business of movie and documentary soundtracks. Of the three ensembles reviewed in relation to this label, this is the one that plays the more technically advanced music, the instruments interlocked in often spectacular garlands of repetitive figurations or murmuring in delicately passionate harmonic modulations. Obvious influences are Philip Glass and Michael Nyman, flagrantly reproduced in sporadic passages; other tracks made me recall (to some extent) Belgian favourites Julverne. There’s no question that the quality of the musicianship is high, and – considering what kind of boredom both the aforementioned composers have subjected my ears to in various circumstances from the late 80s on, we might even be willing to accept a fine replica of the originals. Let’s just say that this quintet sounds extremely professional, the components gifted with indubitable talent; but uniqueness, alas, is a gift an artist is born with. (Equilibrium)

UTE VÖLKER / ANGELIKA SHERIDAN – Leuchtfische

Völker is an accordionist, Sheridan plays different flutes. Theirs is indisputably improvisation, yet not according to the canons one might expect in this day and age. There are structures at work here, no protracted silences (although segments featuring intense quietness are present), no surpluses of air without notes – in a word, no reductionism. These strong-minded women are academically trained, and their inclination seems in effect to reside in the investigation of a field where the instances of modern classicalism and instant intuition meet, usually via a complete exploitation of full-grown timbres and technical solutions that do not rise above orthodoxy in a truly revolutionary way, despite the disentanglement from the unexciting sensations currently spreading across well-known “soundless” circles. Quite often these recordings situate the listener in a somewhat tense setting typical of a hesitant wait: the resolution is perhaps behind the corner, but seldom materializing manifestly. It’s not a type of listening experience that could be defined engaging or easy to swallow; and, every once in a while, the intelligence shown throughout the large part of the instrumental interaction leaves room to moments of slight stagnation, especially due to the not always functional combination of the separate voices. The duo is definitely competent, though: it surely takes several tries to acknowledge an incontestable maturity and, for the music itself, to reveal numerous degrees of temperament and profundity – and, in truth, a little dispassionateness - that attributes a distinct individuality to the whole venture. (Valve)

KELLY ROSSUM – Family

Searching for a remedy against the lethargic exhaustion deriving from years of listening to pedestrian jazz? In Minnesota they do well with Kelly Rossum, who – besides looking like the nicest of the guys, halfway through a démodé punk and myself (just kidding Kelly, but we do actually share a tiny bit of facial resemblance – I hadn’t realized last time…) – possesses one of the most beautifully clear-as-crystal trumpet voices heard in a long while. Family, who was published a year ago (a-hem), is a highly enjoyable effort, comprising material supplied by the leader, pianist Bryan Nichols and bassist Chris Bates, plus three covers. The drumming duties belong to JT Bates, who didn’t contribute with compositions. Difficult to say why a record noticeably rooted in tradition sounds this captivatingly unsullied; hearing this music makes you smirk for no apparent reason. Maybe it’s because Rossum and his comrades are reciprocally fine-tuned in a such a way that their instrumental moves elicit an aura of sorts, directly referring to a glorious past which they probably haven’t even experienced first-hand, given everybody’s relatively young age. The pieces are straightforwardly energizing, swinging with gusto and, when the tick is right, utilizing a correct dose of discursiveness that shows the technical ability of the participants, minus the showing off. And when introspection kicks in (as in Nichols’ splendid “Interlude”) we’re ready to put everything down and listen transfixed, thinking to itineraries of ineluctable occurrences perfectly coincident with our fleeting predisposition. The trumpeter governs the quartet without an iron fist, a performer endowed with inquisitive ears and a sense of intelligent altruism which literally renders this album a longed-for joyful intermission amidst so many bad news and worse vibes swallowing us up day in, day out. Thank you very much, boys – you’re a veritable breath of fresh air, and my wife has asked me to leave the CD available to her for repeating the session also when I’m absent - now, THAT really means something. Among the finest jazz albums of 2008: shame on this reviewer for coming to it late. (612 Sides)