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Joel Stern & Michael Northam, "Wormwood"
Ground Fault
Stern and Northam are far from an incompatible pair. Both artists havebeen actively confusing environmental (or "natural") sound andelectronic composition for many years, becoming prominent practitionersof an incredibly tactile, dimension-bending style of electroacousticmusic. The success of their output is as much a product of newtechnology as it is the result of the artists' willingness to plumb thedepths of the world's rubbish bins, forest floors, and highwayshoulders in search of "new" sound devices. Northam, in particular, hasassembled a dense body of work based largely on the rejection ofinstruments with any kind of outside referent, including keen effortsto avoid sound which gives evidence of even the most primitive forms ofmusicianship (i.e. strumming, beating). The artist gathers sound from atable of indiscriminant objects, where man-made refuse, natural forms,and all combinations in between enter the microphone field and feed thegloss of cracks, scrapes, and sandy shivers that become the basis forhis alienating contributions. Northam's music reveals itself as organicbut untraceable; by simulating and warping "natural" sounds, hedemonstrates an interest in examining the process by whichenvironmental sound is internalized, filed away for easy, oftenunreliable reference. Northam's sophisticated process of manipulationallows for something like a "telescoping" of sound events to occur, inwhich certain details are blown up within the already intricateassemblage. Microscopic wrinkles and chirps turn, with surprisingfluidity, to craggy landscapes and squealing waveforms, creating subtledislocations of distance that compound the initial disorientationbrought on by traceless noises. The effect is like passing a magnifyingglass over a mossy creekbed and watching as small green worlds leapinto unexpected life. Wormwood'ssituation is made more complex by the chorus of high-pitched drones andgentle, processed feedback that rise from each piece, giving the disc'ssharper points a soothing undertone and, at times, lifting the surfacenoise toward snarling crescendos. Based on my knowledge of the artists'previous work, I'm guessing these extended tones are Stern's, thoughit's possible that he's equally responsible for the disc's grittiertextures. Whatever the case, the synthetic quality of the backing soundprovides a nice contrast to the mad scramble that remains the music'sprimary focus, working to create many fine moments of expertlyexploited detail and interesting contrast. And while Wormwood hardly rivals some of Northam's grandiose solo works like :coyot:and From Within the Solar Cave, the disc also feels unique and is no easier to pin down.
Stern and Northam are far from an incompatible pair. Both artists havebeen actively confusing environmental (or "natural") sound andelectronic composition for many years, becoming prominent practitionersof an incredibly tactile, dimension-bending style of electroacousticmusic. The success of their output is as much a product of newtechnology as it is the result of the artists' willingness to plumb thedepths of the world's rubbish bins, forest floors, and highwayshoulders in search of "new" sound devices. Northam, in particular, hasassembled a dense body of work based largely on the rejection ofinstruments with any kind of outside referent, including keen effortsto avoid sound which gives evidence of even the most primitive forms ofmusicianship (i.e. strumming, beating). The artist gathers sound from atable of indiscriminant objects, where man-made refuse, natural forms,and all combinations in between enter the microphone field and feed thegloss of cracks, scrapes, and sandy shivers that become the basis forhis alienating contributions. Northam's music reveals itself as organicbut untraceable; by simulating and warping "natural" sounds, hedemonstrates an interest in examining the process by whichenvironmental sound is internalized, filed away for easy, oftenunreliable reference. Northam's sophisticated process of manipulationallows for something like a "telescoping" of sound events to occur, inwhich certain details are blown up within the already intricateassemblage. Microscopic wrinkles and chirps turn, with surprisingfluidity, to craggy landscapes and squealing waveforms, creating subtledislocations of distance that compound the initial disorientationbrought on by traceless noises. The effect is like passing a magnifyingglass over a mossy creekbed and watching as small green worlds leapinto unexpected life. Wormwood'ssituation is made more complex by the chorus of high-pitched drones andgentle, processed feedback that rise from each piece, giving the disc'ssharper points a soothing undertone and, at times, lifting the surfacenoise toward snarling crescendos. Based on my knowledge of the artists'previous work, I'm guessing these extended tones are Stern's, thoughit's possible that he's equally responsible for the disc's grittiertextures. Whatever the case, the synthetic quality of the backing soundprovides a nice contrast to the mad scramble that remains the music'sprimary focus, working to create many fine moments of expertlyexploited detail and interesting contrast. And while Wormwood hardly rivals some of Northam's grandiose solo works like :coyot:and From Within the Solar Cave, the disc also feels unique and is no easier to pin down.
