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Thomas Köner, "Daikan"
Mille Plateaux
After my first listen to this album at a low volume level, I was alittle worried because there didn't seem to be much going on; butluckily, subsequent listens on a decent system revealed a great levelof detail, much of it buried under immense low end. The focal point isthe periodic repetition of a low-pass-filtered percussive sound,stretched out to such an extent that its booming decay lingers longenough to reveal the slow fluctuations of a vibrating membrane. This isaccompanied by a harmonically rich, but somewhat muted, midrange dronethat very slowly fades from complete silence to full volume and thenback again to nothingness, bringing new layers of sound with eachiteration. The tonal elements resemble Köner's more recent Unerforschtes Gebietrecording in their texture and evocation of abandoned places. Here theyare softer. The percussion and gradual variations in amplitude lend amysterious—and somewhat human—element to an otherwise uninhabitedlandscape. Midway through the piece, the drone descends ratherconspicuously through four closely-spaced notes, in what is reminiscentof a threateningly futuristic movie soundtrack. After this big event,some quiet, almost mechanical, filtered noise emerges, along withrepeated bass-rich volume swells that sound like more stretched outpercussion, this time played backwards. The slight hissing and patientrise and fall in volume are like breathing; and the middle part of thisrecording is really quite beautiful, despite the abundance of low-endmaking it almost claustrophobic and morose. Shades of the descendingmelody are audible as the original sounds return, and the drum soundre-enters and grows more and more extended throughout the remainder ofthe piece. It finally ends with a sustained rumble. Even with thelimited range of sound that Köner seems to have confined himself to, Daikan is quite stunning and is a fine addition to the Köner collection.
After my first listen to this album at a low volume level, I was alittle worried because there didn't seem to be much going on; butluckily, subsequent listens on a decent system revealed a great levelof detail, much of it buried under immense low end. The focal point isthe periodic repetition of a low-pass-filtered percussive sound,stretched out to such an extent that its booming decay lingers longenough to reveal the slow fluctuations of a vibrating membrane. This isaccompanied by a harmonically rich, but somewhat muted, midrange dronethat very slowly fades from complete silence to full volume and thenback again to nothingness, bringing new layers of sound with eachiteration. The tonal elements resemble Köner's more recent Unerforschtes Gebietrecording in their texture and evocation of abandoned places. Here theyare softer. The percussion and gradual variations in amplitude lend amysterious—and somewhat human—element to an otherwise uninhabitedlandscape. Midway through the piece, the drone descends ratherconspicuously through four closely-spaced notes, in what is reminiscentof a threateningly futuristic movie soundtrack. After this big event,some quiet, almost mechanical, filtered noise emerges, along withrepeated bass-rich volume swells that sound like more stretched outpercussion, this time played backwards. The slight hissing and patientrise and fall in volume are like breathing; and the middle part of thisrecording is really quite beautiful, despite the abundance of low-endmaking it almost claustrophobic and morose. Shades of the descendingmelody are audible as the original sounds return, and the drum soundre-enters and grows more and more extended throughout the remainder ofthe piece. It finally ends with a sustained rumble. Even with thelimited range of sound that Köner seems to have confined himself to, Daikan is quite stunning and is a fine addition to the Köner collection.
