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aMute, "A Hundred Dry Trees"
Intr_version
This is an example of a full-length that perfectly, if predictably,fulfills my expectations. aMute's track on last year's Intr_versioncompilation formed the undeniable centerpiece of the disc. If not themost showy piece, it was certainly the most effective, dropping in frombehind the preceding track almost invisibly and, through gracefulcrescendos, sucking the entire sampler into its icy expanse, enough tohaunt the remainder of the disc and nearly summarize the label'smelancholic ethos in a eight short minutes. For his debut album, JérômeDeuson provides not only an extended version of that song, "Aux creuxdes vagues, mon visage," but also seven others that match its moodeasily, creating a work that seems cut from the same graying,crystalline tapestry, full of bristly folds and wide, smothering fuzz.Deuson's technique is nothing shocking, an intricate, but notover-complex entangling of effects-heavy guitar, processed feedbacknoise, and windy, chime-ful ambience, all allowed to dive and swoopthrough layers of minimal bass and the smallest of percussive clicks.None of the tracks are particularly grounded; rather they float in astructure-less haze that serves the cold, discreet passages conjured byaMute's harmonic sensibility, the same economized, somber aesthetic ofhis labelmates Joshua Treble, Mitchell Akiyama, and The Beans. Like hisfriends, Deuson's approach is geared away from bending his guitartowards extremes in distortion or processed disintegration and moretowards crafting careful, meaningful builds via simple melodic strandswith clear resolutions. The frosty ambiance, of scattered windchimesand stuttering drones, carries these tracks into the oblivion theyrequire; however, Deuson's playing maintains a directness that attachesa cinematic feel throughout. Certain left-field inclusions, likemuffled vocal samples and a track of naked French speech, add to thefeeling of remove that I (perhaps too quickly) tend to associate withsome set of fixed visual correspondents. This might form my onecriticism of A Hundred Day Trees,that, for all its sad majesty, the album seems a bit limited in itsexpressive power, leaving me in the same place after each listen. Itcould be the relative homogeneity of the tracks or the similarity toother recent releases by the label, not bad qualities at all, just notenough to prove that aMute doesn't have better in store for next time.
This is an example of a full-length that perfectly, if predictably,fulfills my expectations. aMute's track on last year's Intr_versioncompilation formed the undeniable centerpiece of the disc. If not themost showy piece, it was certainly the most effective, dropping in frombehind the preceding track almost invisibly and, through gracefulcrescendos, sucking the entire sampler into its icy expanse, enough tohaunt the remainder of the disc and nearly summarize the label'smelancholic ethos in a eight short minutes. For his debut album, JérômeDeuson provides not only an extended version of that song, "Aux creuxdes vagues, mon visage," but also seven others that match its moodeasily, creating a work that seems cut from the same graying,crystalline tapestry, full of bristly folds and wide, smothering fuzz.Deuson's technique is nothing shocking, an intricate, but notover-complex entangling of effects-heavy guitar, processed feedbacknoise, and windy, chime-ful ambience, all allowed to dive and swoopthrough layers of minimal bass and the smallest of percussive clicks.None of the tracks are particularly grounded; rather they float in astructure-less haze that serves the cold, discreet passages conjured byaMute's harmonic sensibility, the same economized, somber aesthetic ofhis labelmates Joshua Treble, Mitchell Akiyama, and The Beans. Like hisfriends, Deuson's approach is geared away from bending his guitartowards extremes in distortion or processed disintegration and moretowards crafting careful, meaningful builds via simple melodic strandswith clear resolutions. The frosty ambiance, of scattered windchimesand stuttering drones, carries these tracks into the oblivion theyrequire; however, Deuson's playing maintains a directness that attachesa cinematic feel throughout. Certain left-field inclusions, likemuffled vocal samples and a track of naked French speech, add to thefeeling of remove that I (perhaps too quickly) tend to associate withsome set of fixed visual correspondents. This might form my onecriticism of A Hundred Day Trees,that, for all its sad majesty, the album seems a bit limited in itsexpressive power, leaving me in the same place after each listen. Itcould be the relative homogeneity of the tracks or the similarity toother recent releases by the label, not bad qualities at all, just notenough to prove that aMute doesn't have better in store for next time.
