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.