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Fennesz, "Venice"
Touch Music
Try as I might, I can never come to an understanding of the fascination so many have with Christian Fennesz. His 2001 record, Endless Summer,never touched me in the same way it seemed to touch numerous criticsand fans; even repeated listens could not cure the inertness I feltwhile listening to the music. Put simply: I've always found Fennesz'salbums overrated and tame. That's why it came as a surprise to find Veniceimpressing me on some levels. As a whole the record drags on just asmuch as its predecessors have, but there are a few songs on the albumthat come out of left field and strike me to a degree that I couldnever have expected. The opener, "Rivers of Sand," is a pulsating workfull of struggling chords and bereft melodies that disappearmysteriously only emerge triumphantly on the other end of death as somefizzling and hissing memory more powerful than before. The combinationof highly-processed sound and near-pure flourishes resonates in a waythat few other songs from this composer ever have. Between songs like"River of Sand" and "Circassian" are pieces that fail to evoke anyhappiness or intrigue in me. "City of Light" is a moaning exercise inpatience that never touches on the promise of its title. While there issome peace to be found in the slowly morphing chords processed andreprocessed by Fennesz, there are few significant or lavish sounds thatmake continued listening a joy. Everything sounds like it is a little too perfectly in its place. Where Venicesucceeds is in its more bare and acoustic moments. "Circassian"emenates an ebb and flow in the electronic realm that suggestswind-swept plains and ancient civilizations. But just below that ebband flow is a distinct and gorgeous strumming, something for thepresent and familiar that sinks into my skin and makes the unknown anappreciable entity. "Laguna" works for the same reason - it's a trackdominated entirely by an acoustic guitar, but with one mild andcompletely endearing electronic effect: a bad mic. If Fennesz iscapable of melody and beauty as great as this, why he is concentratingon distortion and laptop trickery is beyond me. With the highlightssafely out of the way, I can still express my confusion about Fennesz'ssupposed brilliance. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a giftedindividual and that is capable of producing some excellent music, butthe bulk of Venice suggests to me that he hasn't even begun totap his abilities as a writer and performer. I have no doubt that thiswill be hailed as another incredible record and that fans everywherewill absolutely adore this record, but until Fennesz gets very experimental and takes a chance at a nearly unedited, unprocessed, acoustic record, I'll be getting my kicks elsewhere.
Try as I might, I can never come to an understanding of the fascination so many have with Christian Fennesz. His 2001 record, Endless Summer,never touched me in the same way it seemed to touch numerous criticsand fans; even repeated listens could not cure the inertness I feltwhile listening to the music. Put simply: I've always found Fennesz'salbums overrated and tame. That's why it came as a surprise to find Veniceimpressing me on some levels. As a whole the record drags on just asmuch as its predecessors have, but there are a few songs on the albumthat come out of left field and strike me to a degree that I couldnever have expected. The opener, "Rivers of Sand," is a pulsating workfull of struggling chords and bereft melodies that disappearmysteriously only emerge triumphantly on the other end of death as somefizzling and hissing memory more powerful than before. The combinationof highly-processed sound and near-pure flourishes resonates in a waythat few other songs from this composer ever have. Between songs like"River of Sand" and "Circassian" are pieces that fail to evoke anyhappiness or intrigue in me. "City of Light" is a moaning exercise inpatience that never touches on the promise of its title. While there issome peace to be found in the slowly morphing chords processed andreprocessed by Fennesz, there are few significant or lavish sounds thatmake continued listening a joy. Everything sounds like it is a little too perfectly in its place. Where Venicesucceeds is in its more bare and acoustic moments. "Circassian"emenates an ebb and flow in the electronic realm that suggestswind-swept plains and ancient civilizations. But just below that ebband flow is a distinct and gorgeous strumming, something for thepresent and familiar that sinks into my skin and makes the unknown anappreciable entity. "Laguna" works for the same reason - it's a trackdominated entirely by an acoustic guitar, but with one mild andcompletely endearing electronic effect: a bad mic. If Fennesz iscapable of melody and beauty as great as this, why he is concentratingon distortion and laptop trickery is beyond me. With the highlightssafely out of the way, I can still express my confusion about Fennesz'ssupposed brilliance. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a giftedindividual and that is capable of producing some excellent music, butthe bulk of Venice suggests to me that he hasn't even begun totap his abilities as a writer and performer. I have no doubt that thiswill be hailed as another incredible record and that fans everywherewill absolutely adore this record, but until Fennesz gets very experimental and takes a chance at a nearly unedited, unprocessed, acoustic record, I'll be getting my kicks elsewhere.
