Memories Of Mr.23 (The Alfred Harth Chronicles)

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

Laubhuette Studio

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

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

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

Rhodri Davies Was Here

RHODRI DAVIES / GREGORY BÜTTNER - 3 Harp Treatments

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

JOHN BUTCHER / RHODRI DAVIES – Carliol

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

Timo Van Luijk Sends News Via Vinyl

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

ONDE – Purple

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

FREDERIK CROENE & TIMO VAN LUIJK – Voile Au Vent

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

12k / Line Roundup

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

PJUSK – Sval

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

ALVA NOTO – For 2

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

LOVESLIESCRUSHING – CRWTH (Chorus Redux)

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

SMALL COLOR – In Light

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

GIUSEPPE IELASI – Tools

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

TAYLOR DEUPREE – Shoals

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

Great Music, No Matter The Label

Enough said. Get this stuff pronto.

DANIEL MENCHE – Odradek

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

JANA WINDEREN – Energy Field

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

ACOUSTIC GUITAR TRIO – Vignes

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

Overlooked Gem Alert

ALVA NOTO + RYUICHI SAKAMOTO With ENSEMBLE MODERN - UTP_

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

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

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