The music on this third volume owes a debt to Liebezeit’s heritage, recalling as it does such outfits as Can itself, Pierre Moerlen’s Gong and Neu, as well musicians like Manuel Göttsching (Ashra/Ashra Tempel). Fluidity and cyclicity are the two main themes present, with a seamless weaving together of rhythm and sound, a space where neither dominates but both intersect and interact in surprising and sparklingly magical ways.
The word ‘secret’ in this context is not meant to signify hidden, rather it is meant to highlight less common, as well as new and emergent, rhythms. Indeed, these species of rhythms inhabit the digital grooves of this CD in abundance. Here on Secret Rhythms 3 the emphasis is placed on creating a tapestry of exotic panoramas, from jazz and dub to calypso and late night ambience. While doing so, the musicians play off each other, sparking off new ideas and elaborating new textures continuously. Rhythms shift and swirl endlessly, appearing out of nowhere and then disappearing, only to reappear in some mutated form later on. Instrumentation encompasses both the acoustic and the electronic forms, as well as the electric. Sounds melt in and out of vision, sliding in to take their turn and then once more receding when others demand their time in the spotlight. What results is pure liquid musicianship, a scintillating marriage of percussion and sound, a blend of the exotic, the colourful, the laidback, and the urgent.
“Morning has Broken” exemplifies the combination of almost shapeless melodies draped over a solid rhythmic framework so typical of the pieces on this album. Liebezeit’s drumwork, while not overly complex in nature, nevertheless pins the wings of this exotic creature to the canvas, so to speak, imparting a kind of amorphous structure to what would otherwise be a somewhat elusive beast. A constant and languorous Latin-style beat, aided and abetted by a syncopated guitar rhythm, creates a girder framework around which e-bowed guitar flies and swoops gracefully. “Gegenwart” follows a similar path, where a deceptively simple drumbeat masks a startling complexity augmented by saxophone running in quicksilver manner and set against more of that fluid background. While separately they appear to be just random elements, together they form a complex network of sonic threads and in turn helping to delineate a detailed picture.
“Trittbrettfahrer” ups the ante and the urgency with a funk/calypso number, even going so far as to include faux steel-drum tones dancing around the clipped guitar funk-rhythm. Even though its heartbeat originated in the Caribbean, this treatment rips it out and transplants it into a European context. Keeping with the funkiness, “Entsafter” pulls us back onto the dance-floor before having a chance to sit down. Chopped acoustic six-string motors behind some over-driven wah-wahed guitar, the pulse just tempting, nay driving, the whole body to move in sympathy. It’s infectious, seeping into and affecting every part of the human frame, until it is nigh on impossible to deny.
One of the most satisfying aspects about this for me was the breadth of atmospheres and moods portrayed. Just like an old master painting, satisfaction derives from observing the mastery with which the artist has created his vision and the way he marshals his media and tools to that end. Both Friedman and Liebezeit combined have a huge palette from which to work and on this outing they set about creating the right textures and hues to capture those moods and atmospheres. With a sureness and a deft touch born of long involvement with, and immersion in, music, it is immediately apparent that with just a few light strokes here and some broad strokes there they manage to conjure up the most magical of musical vistas.
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