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Orgonautic, "Full Circle"
Orgonautic continues to captivate me with their stunning production values, overtly occult lyrics, psychedelic rhythm guitar, blistering electronic synths, and heady beats. Each new release from them shows a step up in quality in terms of both the sound and the artifact. From the first few simply packaged CD-Rs to the now lavish gatefold and silver embossed digipacks they release, Orgonautic have been building a solid and steadfast body of work. Full Circle brings ten new songs to an already well-laid table along with four songs from last year’s free digital download EP, The Moebius Strategy.
Clues to Orgonautic’s overall gestalt can be found within their name: orogone, a biophysical and psychosexual energy posited by heretic psychologist Wilhelm Reich to be an omnipresent electromagnetic and luminiferous aether from which all matter arises. “Nautic” implies that the duo of Christian Preunkert and Alexander Nym (at times abetted by female vocalist Jamyno and sax player Rabie) are navigators within the orogone infused astral reality enveloping this world. Their experiences there translate into music very well, and as a listener I get to participate in the exploration.
The overall energy of the album is best described as libidinous. Yet, the sexuality evoked on these throbbing rhythmic numbers (some of which are perfect for an erotically charged dance floor) is one that is also linked to a higher intelligence, as opposed to that of strictly physical pleasure. When immersed in a song like “White Light” I can feel the heat of kundalini as it rises up my spine and into the skull, with its attendant shivering and shuddering of bliss. Gyrating with a strong pop sensibility, emanating from the warmly buoyant synth line, the track also has a barely hidden layer of strange echoed tape slur and percussive cacophony.
“Beast” is another exemplary song. The flanged out guitar, which opens it up, is soon joined by a sampled voice in a growling, stuttering staccato, foreshadowing the rapid-paced vocal performance given by Alexander. Christian Preunkert’s studio mastery is showcased here by his masterful manipulation of the vocal track, where certain words are shortened, rubbed out, or nearly deleted. The uniformity of the piece is briefly jumbled when the beats disappear and are replaced by skewed vinyl before jumping back to its relentlessly paced assault. “Sommerfield,” with its samples of lilting flutes, and thin coating of distortion, shows a laid back approach giving Alex a more expansive canvas on which to paint his poetically jaundiced monologue. A friendly and refreshing dose of saxophone skronk features prominently on “Open” where it is played in a classic psych-rock style. On “Field Recording 1,” Rabie builds his tones more slowly, drawing them out longer in accompaniment to the surreal electronic drones. Jamyno is given room to shine on the jilted “Lovesong 1,” where her vocals take the lead in a song that is rather populist than any of the rest.
Like dashes of salt and pepper, the sampled voices of countercultural luminaries, such as Robert Anton Wilson, Anthony Burgess, Gilles Deleuze, and Charlotte Roche (among others) are spread across the disc, giving it added flavor and lending an air of intellectual fermentation.
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