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Alog, "Miniatures"
The third album from one of my three favorite Rune groups makes the second essential Rune release of the year (after Food's Last Supper).The title does not describe a new modus-operandi for the duo; it isinstead an abstracted definition of Alog's unique position since theirfirst record.
Rune Grammofon
Apparently a specific reference to Turkish miniaturepainting—where artists are subject to a rigorous structure demanding noperspective, no shadow, no uniqueness of objects, etc,...—the album isthe group's most beguiling work yet, emphasizing ideas that definetheir sound: that no track is merely a sum of its parts, that arrangementis central and will not be led by predictable dependences orpattern-for-pattern's-sake. Like so much of John Cage's work, Alogmusic is necessarily un-improvised but stands firmly on the side ofchance, suggestion, and natural lopsidedness. Their technique remains arather straightforward computerized cut-loop-paste-repeat of warmdigital flicker and the disassociated instrumental sounds of guitar,organ, string, bell, and percussion, though to call the duo's musicfragmentary is to miss something. Theirs is not an Ovalian world ofcompositions realized through faulty connection or breakdown, but asimilarly electrified domain in which sounds approach an abstract (ifnot pure) reverie, repeated only enough to erase the temporal nature oftheir origins, lent only enough open space to wind themselves out, andgiven momentum only through a kind of forced contact with contrastiveelements. While on past releases this kind of directive-lesssong-building could sound amateurish or at times even grating, Miniaturesfeels uncommonly graceful after only a few listens. The probability ofa track's ending entirely unrecognizable from its beginning will alwaysbe a reason to give Alog a chance, one that is justified immediatelyhere with the opening track, "Severe Punishment and Lasting Bliss,"which served also as the attractive start for the latest Rune sampler, Runeology.A virtual hour in ten minutes takes tiny, plastic synth smears througha fuzzed toy guitar, growing miraculous and soon to steam engine, thento 4-track feedback harness attempt, and on to the anticlimax that inAlog fashion comes forward to claim my whole climactic memory of thetrack: a penetrating, fat ass-end of a drone, bottoming out and outuntil reeled in to simple, sleepy strings, a miniature quartet allalong. Another of the disc's longer tracks ("St. Paul Sessions II")appeared as the lead-off track on Rune compilation/mission statement Money Will Ruin Everythinglast year, but such previous exposure need not be a deterrent as thealbum is completely solid, both patchy and fluid in the best ways. Forthe Alog-familiar, plenty of surprises wait inside, like the duo'sincreased incorporation of ambient sound (more on-the-surface andpopulated with voices) and a pleasant favoritism of live, clatter-heavypercussion over drum machines. As usual, listening is less involvedwith marveling at just how different sound is shifted into themix than with the experience of drifting forward with each newlyabstracted noise and uncovering the powers of suggestion latent ineach.
Rune Grammofon
Apparently a specific reference to Turkish miniaturepainting—where artists are subject to a rigorous structure demanding noperspective, no shadow, no uniqueness of objects, etc,...—the album isthe group's most beguiling work yet, emphasizing ideas that definetheir sound: that no track is merely a sum of its parts, that arrangementis central and will not be led by predictable dependences orpattern-for-pattern's-sake. Like so much of John Cage's work, Alogmusic is necessarily un-improvised but stands firmly on the side ofchance, suggestion, and natural lopsidedness. Their technique remains arather straightforward computerized cut-loop-paste-repeat of warmdigital flicker and the disassociated instrumental sounds of guitar,organ, string, bell, and percussion, though to call the duo's musicfragmentary is to miss something. Theirs is not an Ovalian world ofcompositions realized through faulty connection or breakdown, but asimilarly electrified domain in which sounds approach an abstract (ifnot pure) reverie, repeated only enough to erase the temporal nature oftheir origins, lent only enough open space to wind themselves out, andgiven momentum only through a kind of forced contact with contrastiveelements. While on past releases this kind of directive-lesssong-building could sound amateurish or at times even grating, Miniaturesfeels uncommonly graceful after only a few listens. The probability ofa track's ending entirely unrecognizable from its beginning will alwaysbe a reason to give Alog a chance, one that is justified immediatelyhere with the opening track, "Severe Punishment and Lasting Bliss,"which served also as the attractive start for the latest Rune sampler, Runeology.A virtual hour in ten minutes takes tiny, plastic synth smears througha fuzzed toy guitar, growing miraculous and soon to steam engine, thento 4-track feedback harness attempt, and on to the anticlimax that inAlog fashion comes forward to claim my whole climactic memory of thetrack: a penetrating, fat ass-end of a drone, bottoming out and outuntil reeled in to simple, sleepy strings, a miniature quartet allalong. Another of the disc's longer tracks ("St. Paul Sessions II")appeared as the lead-off track on Rune compilation/mission statement Money Will Ruin Everythinglast year, but such previous exposure need not be a deterrent as thealbum is completely solid, both patchy and fluid in the best ways. Forthe Alog-familiar, plenty of surprises wait inside, like the duo'sincreased incorporation of ambient sound (more on-the-surface andpopulated with voices) and a pleasant favoritism of live, clatter-heavypercussion over drum machines. As usual, listening is less involvedwith marveling at just how different sound is shifted into themix than with the experience of drifting forward with each newlyabstracted noise and uncovering the powers of suggestion latent ineach.
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