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Philip Jeck, "7"
It might be easy to think about this, Jeck's seventh solo release, as marking a maturation or a refinement of the artist's sound, but that analysis cheapens the singular vision he's established over the past years. Sure, he arrived in the wake of Christian Marclay's ground-breaking turntable explorations, after groups like Zoviet France had set the bar for grainy, delay-ridden loopscapes, but Jeck has, since his beginnings, created some of the most distinctive music to emerge from either turntablist or ambient traditions.Touch
He is peerless in his ability to wrest absolutely transporting, surreal textures from little more than the grooves of a few dozen records, working in a way that exposes the primitive quality of the medium almost in conjunction with, or in spite of, the hallucinogenic displacements achieved in the music. With Jeck this is never an uncomfortable experience, as the majority of his compositions lead to places awash in the same golden light and aquatic splendor that fill his Wozencroft-designed sleeves, but when it's best, Jeck's music is as riveting as it is meditative or nostalgic. Fragments of vinyl crackle and machine hum get amplified, distorted, and piled together, making static slopes that are often quicker to pummel than to caress (see "Skew" from Jeck's other new release, Host). Other prized moments find Jeck throwing truly alien records into the mix; most memorable for me are the vocals copped from some moaning gospel singer(?) that appear on 2002's enchanting Stoke, slowed down and otherwise manipulated to simulate a kind of divine response. Moments like these show the artist taking risks that remain largely absent on 7, making it an under-whelming listen. While there are many beautiful sections throughout the disc, Jeck does little to separate himself from the droning masses. Like most of his recordings, 7 was produced live, an impressive feat, especially since signs of artifice are now at an all-time low. Here, Jeck approaches a sound where all surface noises, tone-arm shivers, and loop outlines disappear in service of the whole, but the polished, perfectly integrated result comes off lacking much of what made his music so interesting before. Several of the tracks build on simple patterns or pale, one-dimensional drones, allowing for only subtle transformation over their (relatively) short lengths. 7 could be Jeck's most understated work yet, and the music is, of course, not without merit. Tracks like "Some Pennies" come close to rivaling the artist's previous work, but nothing here has the potential to invigorate, much less summarize or redefine an already impressive body of work. Those looking for a Jeck fix might have more luck with his newer, more eventful release, Host.
