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Tim Hecker, "Harmony In Ultraviolet"
Like last year’s Mirages, Harmony is further refinement of the charred, static airscape that’s been in steady unveiling since Hecker’s first under his own name. An album of suites, it’s still all the same stuff: a grand-scale drift along the broken strands and injections of melody stretched through a globe’s worth of radio interference and churning chaos-drone. Whereas before the artist disrupted the sweep of his work with pop culture jabs (My Love Is Rotten) or more direct appeals to ambient or field sounds (Haunt Me), his last two records go straight for the head, kept still, buoyant, but in a suffocation of pinging dronal overtones and unending static tide.
Calm is available in the suspension of droning constants, and in the degree of body separation necessary to appreciate music this reliant on suggestions of spectral energy fields or global transference. But there is nothing inside to lull or comfort. The album title illustrates: a beauteous collision of empty atmosphere shot through with invisible or imagined presences, forgotten surveillance and the remote, mechanical dread of a world locked on "scend." The cover photo, a political memorial dissolving in sepia, establishes the tone well. Track titles like "Stags, Aircraft, Kings and Secretaries," "Radio Spiricom" and "Dungeoneering" emphasize cryptic fusings of interior desolation and loss with atrocities and failed attempts in the public sphere. A tragic world of misdirected melancholy emerges; lonely souls are finding their dead on a radio dial, rapt in code.
Hecker’s goal could be a simultaneous exploration and dismantling of this kind of machine romance. (A previous record, probably my favorite until this, was called Radio Amor.) His technique is certainly one to draw out the minor, thudding melodies from under a static loop, to emphasize the grand cathedral-spaces between shifting panes of white noise. Though not quite comforting, his records do offer a form of mental therapy if only in the way they seem to integrate chaotic, mechanical and modern environmental energies. Like Mirages though, Harmony feels like a tipping point into further interference, alienation from this kind of romance, and an increased emphasis on the paranoia and emptiness in its wake. No soothing microsound, no glitch intricacies or tonal dissections occur here that couldn’t also arrive as quakes to the system; no, Hecker’s music might be better termed "macrosound," a fragment of calm in the glazed, all-seeing eye of something too big to fathom.
Samples can be found here.
