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As the second part of a planned five volume series, Carsten Nicolai chose to draw in more contemporary artists' music to collapse and rebuild, compared to the more classically influenced first disc. Here he takes the likes of Stephen O'Malley, Michael Nyman, and Ryuichi Sakamoto as his starting point, but uses their work to bleak soundscapes that eschews the clicks & blip minimal techno Raster-Noton usually thrives on and instead is a darker, ambient set of pieces.
The album opens with a suite of four tracks that are intended to represent one singular soundtrack, but each function on their own. The 12 minute opener "Phaser Acat 1" has a hollow, but heavy ambient quality to it, blasting in white noise and feedback like tones that, at least for the first half, are much more in-line with the likes of digital Merzbow with a hint of black metal chug lingering below (perhaps O'Malley's contributions). For the second half, the noise drifts away but the chug stays, albeit low, as clinical static and soft, lush synths begin to become the focus, the full contrast between guitar-like riffs, digital static, and soft synths are actually not that far removed from some of the more abstract Jesu work.
The remaining two pieces of this opening set, "Soma" and "Meta Phaser," resemble the first generally, continuing the deep, dark ambience with swells of noise and feedback, the latter adding buzzing analog tones and overdriven bass amp feedback while turning the noise up a bit, before allowing everything to fall away into quiet drift.
The remaining pieces are not as stylistically linked as these, but have a similar feel and sense about them, though the actual nuances differ from track to track. "Sora" sounds like a film score that has been bootlegged off of an old VHS tape: the string-based tones and sweeps are audible, but covered in a layer of analog filth that's exaggerated by digital skipping and occasional overdriven bass tones. Both "Monophaser" tracks are a bit less forboding than the others, emphasizing string like electronic tones and static crunch, the former adding in what may be field recordings of thunderstorms into the background.
"Teion Acat," and its predecessor "Teion" are more reserved, but tense and dark in execution, focusing on grim sustained tones and static decay, the latter sounding like a more obvious reworking due to its more cut-and-paste style construction, but the white noise swells and stuttering bass synth components give it an even greater sense of tension than the original, which makes up for any compositional complaints.
While this was a bit different than I was expecting from the label…I usually prepare myself for minimalist fragment tones and the smallest clicks sequenced into rhythm tracks, I was both surprised and pleased at the combination of rawer digital noise and dense atmospheres that are presented here. Then again, the label has yet to disappoint me, so I had no expectation that they suddenly would begin to.
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Representing the first quartet effort of a series of musicians who have long been in association with one another—most often in duet settings—this debut effectively mixes a variety of contemporary musical tactics into a unique and accomplished stylistic melting pot. While too many efforts that take on this broad a range of material lack in depth however, this quartet has the chops to pull it off without losing its spirit of adventure.
Part of the intrigue of the musical interplay here is surely due to the unusual instrumental lineup. Consisting of Braxton cornetist Taylor Ho Bynum, violaist Jessica Pavone, guitarist Mary Halvorson, and drummer Tomas Fujiwara, the ensemble has an uncommon airiness in all of its endeavors. Never bogged down by weighty riffs, the compositions here float along in the mid and high ranges with a breezy and emotive ease of movement. While each work here represents a different approach (all members contributed compositions) the overall effect is a unified and mobile whole that gives the album a logical but gentle momentum.
The quartet's depth can be seen from the beginning, as the brief "Unfinished Ballad" slips gently into the funkier proceedings on "Army of Strangers." Here, the unit combines tight, James Brown rhythms with modern Bloodcount-like elasticity. Despite brief solos all around, no musician ever stands out or takes over as line after line is woven together in the name of the composition. Which is really the point on display throughout the album. These are, fundamentally, compositions, and anything done outside of the score (however loosely defined that may be) is done so in an attempt to further a dialogue with the pieces' initial ideas.
As much can be seen on "Pinched," with Halvorson's power chords and Fujiwara's drums cranking out punk attitude while Bynum and Pavone intersect near Klezmer cornet and viola lines against them. When the work disintegrates into smears of tone and noise, it works less because the digression is as well performed as it is as because of its logic within the stylistic tensions already set up in the minutes preceding it. It is just this sort of smart play that keeps the disc moving into realms stylistically beyond the ultimate listenability of the disc as a whole.
If anything, this is an album that only whets the appetite. These four capable musicians have a simpatico that few do, as well as a clear willingness to explore one another's work. This mix of respect, talent and experimentalism is rare, and the results are as rich as one would hope. While "Too Sweet" may be an undulating and fiery excursion, it is balanced by the calm ensemble work on the closing "Hate Fields;" it is this sense of balance that allows the unit to explore any musical approach without fear of discontinuity. Here, talent is overridden by communication, composition by approach, and style by feel, a trait sadly all too uncommon in the world of contemporary composition.
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Samuli Tanner has a suspicious and inscrutable way of doing things. Most notably, the band name, album title, and cover art here are all suggestive of ugly, misanthropic scuzz rock (definitely not oddball hip-hop influenced experimentalism from Finland). Then the album opens fairly straightforwardly (for about 30 seconds anyway), before quickly plunging down a rabbit hole of splintered surrealism. Also, this album is only one very long track, unless you buy it from him on tour, in which case it is 27 extremely short ones. Many of the tracks have police-themed titles, but I'll be damned if I can decipher any sort of thematic relation to the music. I am decidedly flummoxed.
NB Research Digest
Ponytail is the solo project of one-half of Helsinki dubstep team Clouds (I thought I had never heard of them, but then I recognized their track from the most recent DJ/Rupture album). Clouds are cleanly produced, structured, melodic, and heavily indebted to Jamaican music. Ponytail is conspicuously none of those things. This is likely due to Tanner's singularly eclectic inspirations: Charles Mingus, punk, and proto-industrial provocateur Pekka Airaksinen. And, of course, Finnish agrarian folk music (which Tanner's family has been involved with for many generations). Being a particularly ingenious and creative fellow, Tanner does not overtly borrow anything from the aforementioned artists; he merely plunders their aesthetic philosophies and applies them to his own ideas.
Themes For Cops is a pleasing and compellingly strange album, but it is very difficult to describe a constantly shifting and fragmented 34-minute song. The only consistency is deep bass and dubstep/downtempo hip-hop drums. Only the fact that they are there, of course. The actual rhythm/bass line tends to segue into something new every minute or so. Sometimes it is danceable and locks into extremely ephemeral groove, but more often it sounds like I am listening to a dubstep tape that has been through a washing machine. Fuzziness, odd wavering, warping, and off-kilter lurching abounds. Not in a bad way though- more in a Boards of Canada/William Basinski kind of way.
Tanner's musical palette is, to make a gross understatement, rather varied. Electronic glitchery coexists with violins, accordions, lounge-y farfisa, neo-classical piano, and pop song snippets. Making experimental music with a wide array of source material is not especially unique at this point, but Tanner does it in a particularly unclumsy fashion and largely avoids self-indulgence (and conclusively avoids pandering to listeners). As alluded to earlier, nothing sticks around long enough to achieve any sort of lasting beauty or funkiness—Themes is more like fever dream in which a torrent of striking moments (ranging from sublime to crazy to unsettling) deluges the listener. It is unlikely that anyone will ever say that this is their favorite album or anything, but Ponytail certainly will elicit much more inner commentary like "Hmm. that sounds cool.," "Was that snippet from a freaking Ladyhawke song?!?!!," or "Woah- what the hell is going on here?!?" than his contemporaries.
Themes For Cops compellingly makes the argument that you can get away with just about anything if you throw in some drums. Many of the ruined and corrupted sounds here would be perfectly at home on a much more listener-hostile and uncompromisingly harsh album, but are rendered strangely palatable in this context. Tanner has made a surprising and engrossing album- I vastly prefer this to his parent band.
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The collage of two headed cats, tigers and smiling trees on the cover of this album sums up the merriment contained in the music within. It is exciting from the opening seconds and engaging to the end, I have been getting more pleasure from this album than I had been expecting. Although song-orientated, the pieces meander and are allowed to expand without becoming self-indulgent or overbearing. The band is pared down to a trio here and as a result the music is full, strong and, in refute of the album's title, uncomplicated.
Most of the pieces here have a strong groove to them, there is very little of the droning soundscapes that made up the bulk of Disconnected. This is most welcome as Faust were always at their best with a strong beat and a catchy riff. However, there is also little here of what would be traditionally considered a song; the music is like a runaway horse that pulls the band with it, the band doing their best to direct it. This all adds up to a glorious end result, tracks like “Kundalini Tremolos” and “En Veux-tu des Effets, en Voilà” steamroll along and are impossible not to get caught up in.
It is not all heavy rockin’ as the title track shows more of Faust’s abstract side, Jean-Hervé Péron’s wordplay sits atop a largely percussion-led piece with what sounds like looped guitar in the background and Zappi Diermaier’s drumming seems to be in constant flux, spinning the beats around and changing the momentum of the music in a strangely subliminal way. On the face of it, hundreds of bands do the same thing to much the same effect but even though they are at an age where the spark of inspiration has usually extinguished, Faust instil some magic into the music. There is a touch of the absurd which stops them falling into cliché (and this is reflected in the liner notes by Péron and Zappi).
The remarkable thing about this album is how little it sounds like Faust. While it is unmistakably them, the music on C’est Com... Com... Compliqué is very different to any of the new material released on any recent live albums and even Disconnected was a very different beast. This is especially surprising as Nurse With Wound used the same recordings to make Disconnected as Karsten Bötcher used to mix this new album (they were originally to be released at the same time as sister albums). The difference is so huge that I cannot even identify what bits Steven Stapleton had taken for Disconnected bar one or two glaringly obvious bits. This situation is a bit of history repeating considering how different Faust’s early albums were despite being culled from the same sessions.
C’est Com... Com... Compliqué is a stunning album (and certainly my favorite out of the two being released this week) that sounds as fresh as any of Faust’s best albums. Although I am a big Faust fan, I did not think they could ever recapture the power and joy of their early years but with this album they have achieved that goal and they have done it without rehashing any old ideas.
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This live album was recorded at Faust’s own Avant Garde Festival at Schiphorst and is intended as a fundraiser for this year’s event. Although not the sharpest recording, the band is on form on this recording and give a powerful performance. A heavy mix of improvised jamming and fan favourites, this is an enjoyable and exciting live document. Also included is a live cut from Nurse With Wound at the same festival, icing on an already sweet cake.
Playing for a home crowd has a dramatic effect on how Faust play, there is a far looser feel to this performance compared to other recent live albums like ...In Autumn and Od Serca Do Duszy. At first, it feels so loose that I was not sure if I even was enjoying the music (the first couple of pieces are slow burners) but with repeated listens, the happiness the band exude becomes infectious. Much of the first disc is composed of new (or improvised) songs ranging in styles from spacious abstractions like “Firework Lovesong for Lilli-Sau” to stomping rockers like “Es Ist Mir Kalt.” “Lass Mich” (featured on the Nurse With Wound collaborative album Disconnected) makes for a joyously ramshackle performance, at times it feels like the song is going to fall apart under its own momentum but somehow Faust keep it together.
The second disc contains all the usual crowd pleasers; “Krautrock,” “Giggy Smile” (that guitar riff is still timeless) and “Schempal Buddha” (a.k.a. “J’ai Mal aux Dents”) are all blasted out with atomic force. A rousing version of “It’s a Rainy Day (Sunshine Girl)” finishes off Faust’s set; a beaming smile on a cheery face. The final track of the album is given over to Nurse With Wound with Jean-Hervé Péron singing alongside Steven Stapleton on a version of “Rock’n Roll Station.” Stapleton’s love of Faust comes through with him altering the lyrics to include loads of Faust references while Peron gets lost in the beats.
Schiphorst 2008 is a good live album but I am not sure if it will find welcoming ears outside of hardcore Faust (and NWW) fans as the recording quality is not exactly stellar. The mix makes the best of the bootleg quality recording but the end result is flatter than I would like. A little oomph in the low end is definitely needed. That being said, the actual performance captured transcends the actual recording quality, listening to this album makes me wish I was there as Faust sound like they are having great fun and to hear it live would be awesome.
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Released way back in the earlier part of 2008, I stupidly skipped over this improved reissue of a scarce and rarely discussed entry in the ever-expanding Nadja discography. Aidan Baker and Leah Buckareff rearranged and re-recorded each song for this release, which is easily one of their most listenable and memorable releases to date.
"Sandskin" begins the record with the kind of indistinguishable and formless buzz typical of most drone-rock outfits. It is pretty, involving, and utterly elastic. Imagining the various and distinct sounds as a unified mass is only a matter of letting the mind slip so that it can confuse the song's various features. When the rhythmic pounding that typifies the rest of the track first erupts, it spawns a dizzying effect. All the various parts (guitar, bass, drums, unidentifiable noise) seem wholly unrelated: the drums don't match the buzzing ambience and the buzzing ambience is at odds with the decidedly epic guitar wails that generate the song's forward motion. Over time these differences gel and Nadja proudly display their rock 'n' roll muscle. Chugging riffs, massive distortion, memorable melodies, and slow, deliberate arrangements are all Baker and Buckareff need to be compelling; the balls-to-the-wall character of this album is founded on that simplicity. Nadja rock on this record and forego many of the qualities that often cause writers and fans to describe them as experimental.
Still, there are plenty of devices employed on Skin Turns to Glass by which the duo obscures their heavy metal formula. Baker's guitars have a tendency to imitate analog synthesizers and the textured distortion that coats each of the four songs on Skin Turns to Glass resembles the sort of noise one might expect from Richard Pinhas or an artist on Touch. Crunchy, over-driven gusts of sound are as much a part of the record as piano melodies, heavy riffs, and pounding rhythms. Baker's solos disappear into nets of granular echo and spacious guitar reverb only to re-emerge and die a glorious, electronic death; an entire song dissolves into hushed waves of trembling strings and distorted, ambivalent moans take center stage as often as distinct instruments do. The tension created by emphasizing chaotic noise and sensible arrangements in equal doses is part of what gives this record its substantial depth. It is also what characterizes Nadja's best music.
If anything interrupts this record's consistent and potent delivery, it's the untitled closing song. It runs for nearly a half hour without doing much but humming indistinctly at a low volume. It isn't until the song is nearly over that the driving rock elements present everywhere else on the record return and conclude the album properly. While this song may have fit on another, more abstract Nadja record, it serves only to distract and debilitate on this one. Without it, Skin Turns to Glass is a wholly coherent and consistent record rooted into the power and clarity of rock music. The duo didn't need to include "Untitled" for the album to be complete. For that reason it sounds more like a curiosity than a proper part of the album.
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This dubwise sideproject from the established Ninja Tunesmith seditiously defects from the singer-songwriter's last album under his primary Fink moniker. Yet unlike the icy-hot textures crafted by current kings of the sound Rod Modell and Stephen Hitchell, Fin Greenall's approach curves away from deep space revisionism while skewing more towards Rhythm & Sound's rootsy reverence.
Although his Ntone debut Fresh Produce rendered an auspicious contribution to the subgenre formerly known as trip hop, Fink's subsequent divagation into unremarkable folk-inflected indie fare largely failed to leave much of an impression on me. While the move earned him a new crop of followers, Greenall's iconoclastic desire to make dull songs for wistful boys and girls too proud to buy Dave Matthews Band albums alienated many of his initial fans. To those left behind and embittered, consider Sideshow, his subtly techy yet inherently organic contribution to the endlessly expanding co-option of Jamaican music by electronic producers, an olive branch of sorts.
Admit One is the second Sideshow full-length for Aus Music, a Simple Records imprint that Greenall co-founded with DJ/producer Will Saul. Contrasting with the bedroom studio norm that dominates in electronic music, these ten tracks result from a collaborative band effort, with bass, percussion, and string duties almost entirely farmed out to other musicians, leading to some unadulterated performances that save the album from the common pitfalls of more machine-driven recreations. "Youth Of Today" contains everything I enjoy about dub music, from its low slung bassline and snapping drum hits to the sonic pulses and echoes, generated in this instance by Greenall's hands-on use of primo effects units like the Alesis Quadraverb GT and the Boss SE50. Tech-house hybrids "Sequential Dub" and "African Cherry" provide that little something-something for the dancefloors, though their tempos will likely confine these 4/4 cuts to warm-up sets. On the vocal front, Paul St. Hilaire's perpetually honeyed tones bless the wide open spaces of lead single "If Alone", while Samar's persistent repetitious vocals on "French Model In Dub" complement Ellie Wyatt's disconsolate strings.
Only marginally more uplifting than a Tindersticks instrumental, the cinematic "Strung Outro" presents Wyatt's lush strings and Greenhall's tender plucking immersed in Tim Thornton's chiming cymbals and hats. This track exposes a curious alternate future for this group, one that bridges both of Greenall's projects without crossing any dangerous boundaries. The lone abscess on this otherwise unblemished record is, unfortunately, its opening track "Television," a fatuous specimen of insipid pop sung by Nashville's Cortney Tidwell, an otherwise reliable alt-country artist that should have known better than to record this uncharacteristically vapid driblet. Lacking any real connection with the rest of the choice material on Admit One, it gave me such a bad impression that for weeks I avoided listening to any of the other tracks. Thankfully, beyond this lies a wonderful album awaiting listeners willing to jump the minor hurdle and hit the forward button on their respective iPods.
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Austin, Texas's Balmorhea have garnered a quite a bit of well-deserved praise for their earlier work (Pitchfork managed to inexplicably compare their previous album to both Keith Jarrett and Arvo Part), but that did not deter them from making some very substantial changes to their sound. All Is Wild, All Is Silent is the folky chamber music sextet's first recording with a drummer and stand-up bassist. Notably, it sounds absolutely nothing like Arvo Part. I'm afraid something has gone dreadfully wrong somewhere.
All Is Wild, All Is Silent borrows its title from William B. Dewees' Letters From An Early Settler Of Texas To A Friend and the music is certainly appropriate to that theme ("the album swells with images of an untamed land... and faith in the face of an unknown and savage Nature."). In simpler terms, this album is...ahem..."cinematic." Somewhat bombastically so, in fact. Of course, Balmorhea are often extremely good at what they do (the plucked violins, stark piano, and shimmering electric guitar in "Harm and Boon" are quite striking, for example), so I can't easily dismiss them. Of course, I cannot embrace it either, as their newfound maximalism clashes uncomfortably with their earlier minimalism. Balmorhea are at their best when they are simple, uncluttered, and languid (as on 2008's excellent Rivers Arms). This new line-up adds quite a bit of heft, but is a bit too song-y and liberal with crescendos and sweeping grandeur for my taste. The world already has one Calexico.
The opening track ("Settler") begins with a vaguely pretty and simple piano part and manages to prematurely explode into soaring epic mode when the strings come in after a mere twenty seconds or so. There is also a vexingly unsubtle chorus of sorts that makes me want to bang my head into the wall every time it crassly blunders in. This stylistic mishap is rendered still more distressing by the fact that "Settler" becomes quite beautiful after the midpoint, when a shimmering piano gives way to a stripped-down and melancholy interlude of acoustic guitar, mournful violin, and laconic wordless vocals. I even like the stomping outro, which ingeniously enhances the song's earlier, somewhat uninteresting themes with an exuberant Latin clapping rhythm.
"Coahuila" is one of the album's few unqualified successful songs. it contains all the usual elements of the new and brawnier Balmorhea (poignant violins, simple acoustic arpeggios, distant reverbed vocals, an intense crescendo, etc.), but is unique here for unfolding in a patient, unforced manner. Unearned climaxes and misplaced intensity are probably this album's biggest pitfalls. "Truth" also succeeds for the same reason and ends with some beautiful unaccompanied piano. Unfortunately, while some tracks stand out from the others, nothing particularly floored me. There are a lot of inspired moments on this album, but no songs that have sustained brilliance. It's all just merely pleasant and inoffensive.
I am hoping that this is a transitional album and that future efforts more seamlessly integrate Balmorhea's newfound muscularity. They are a fairly unusual and often excellent band and I heartily recommend checking out their earlier efforts, but this is a bit of a mis-step. Of course, in Balmorhea's defense, All Is Wild, All Is Silent would make an excellent accompanying score to a somewhat highbrow western. Notably, however, that film does not exist, and I feel puzzled and foolish listening to musical evocations of heroic cowboys and wagon trains in my apartment.
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On her fourth full-length album, Marissa Nadler takes a conscious step away from the folk purity of her earlier work, filling out her sound with full band arrangements featuring drums, bass guitar, and keyboards. The gamble pays off handsomely, and the indie-folk pinup girl and mistress of the murder ballad delivers one of her finest albums yet.
Marissa Nadler's appeal is so simple that it's hard to explain. Though certainly her fingerpicking style is lovely, there are doubtless other artists who could dwarf her abilities. Her voice is evocative but often drenched in reverb, which is not at all an uncommon strategy for artists looking to add some haunt and atmosphere to their work. Her songs are often simplistic, and across her four albums there are certainly moments of déja vu for a careful listener; similar melodic progressions get trotted out repeatedly, and the lyrical imagery draws from such a recognizably discrete set of themes that, at this point, it would probably be possible to make a Marissa Nadler magnetic poetry lyric set for refrigerator doors everywhere. What makes Marissa Nadler's music irresistible is not reducible to any of its component parts. It's something else, something intangible, something approaching what Roland Barthes called "the grain of the voice," but somehow even less definable. Either you "get it" or you don't, and luckily, critics and listeners everywhere seem to be "getting" Marissa Nadler more with each successive release. Given this trajectory, Little Hells may well be Nadler's breakthrough album.
It's her breakthrough album because she sticks to what she knows; simple, melancholic fingerpicked folk ballads that take advantage of her sonorous, spine-tingling vocals, narrating tales of damsels in distress or lovers absent or dead. What has changed are the arrangements; many of these tracks feature a full band backing up the singer-songwriter, a band drawn from the ranks of groups like Blonde Redhead, Beachwood Sparks, and Vetiver. Sure, Nadler has had accompaniment in the past, notably some subtle synths here and there on her debut, and the electric third-eye soloing of Greg Weeks on her last album Songs III: Bird On the Water, but she has never tried for a traditional rock sound, which is her big gamble on Little Hells. Not that you would know it from the first track "Heartpaper Lover," which uses a limited sound palette with no rhythm section, just Marissa's multitracked vocals and guitar, with atmospheric air raid synths forming a creepy backdrop. But on the album's second track, "Rosary," everything changes. Not only does the track feature drums and bass, but also a noticeably jauntier and more confident performance from Nadler herself.
The changes get even more intense with tracks like "Mary Comes Alive," which add synths to the already maximalist arrangement, and ends up sounding like a lost Mazzy Star B-side. This is not to say that Marissa has abandoned her folk origins, and many tracks here retain a sense of that witchy Brit-folk vibe that made an album like The Saga of Mayflower May so appealing. More notable than the continuities are the disruptions, however, a track such as "Mistress," which incredibly, is nothing less than full-bore countrified rock, Nadler singing from the point of view of a joyful adulteress: "Goodbye misery/linens on the line...Come in now, you know I won't desert you/It's been four years waiting for the day/That would you would leave your girl and take me/Somewhere away." The production on Marissa's voice is top-notch throughout the album, transforming the sometimes miasmic muddle of past albums into vocals that are at once nebulous and piercing, like a whisp of smoke that spontaneously forms into distinct but ephemeral shapes before melting back into undifferentiated haze.
Little Hells is a fantastic album that completely transcends any tenuous association that Marissa Nadler might once have had with the annoying, and now dead, indie "freak-folk" scene. There are no willful eccentricities on display here; just a great singer-songwriter with incredible poise, seemingly in full control of her aesthetic, spinning ten haunting narratives in musical miniature.
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The CD will only be available from the Williams Street online shop.
The vinyl, however, will be available in retail!The Venture Brothers is a hit cartoon series aired on Adult Swim / Cartoon Network. The pieces on the album are reworked and drawn from the first three seasons of the show.
This album is blistering.
If you dig Steroid Maximus and Foetus, you are probably going to love this album!
The track listing is as follows -
1. Brock Graveside
2. Tuff
3. Tensssacts
4. 13 BigMon / Boys as Transformers
5. Node Wrestling
6. Thunder-Bro
7. Damion
8. Assclamp!
9. Mississippi Noir
10. VB1 Spag
11. Bolly
12. Gawker
13. Descension
14. Warped Carousel
15. Sexy Sultry
16. In a spaceage Mood
17. X1 Krashi / woozzy
18. Warped Span
19. Fumblestealth
20. VB Theme
The vinyl omits four tracks to provide great sound fidelity; however it should come with a coupon giving the purchaser access to a free download of the album.
http://www.williamsstreet.com
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http://www.myspace.com/foetus
http://www.myspace.com/jgthirlwell
http://www.myspace.com/manorexianyc
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While most of the recent releases from Tietchens have been Die Stadt’s archival releases and a few collaborations, this is his first full vinyl album in quite some time. As expected, it is a carefully nuanced series of pieces that fully reflects his clinical, yet inviting and engaging, take on abstract composition and sound art.
The first track of this is the side-long "Teilmenge 20," which begins as a set of indecipherable static electricity clicks that are quite warm and engaging, which quickly builds to a rhythmic cycle, continuing to mutate and diverge throughout the entire track. Most interestingly, as the rhythm sets in it truly begins to resemble a traditional 4/4 techno beat. The tempo and percussive elements are there, but the sounds in no way resemble the stale drum machines and overwrought synths.
As the piece progresses through its 21 minute duration, this influence becomes even more notable, with abstract crunches, sustained tones and raw noise stabs that aren’t far removed from the sort of elements a long form minimal techno track would include, but rather than obvious beats and keyboards, it is instead a palette of dissonant sounds and glitch textures that comprise the mix. This would be great to hear the inevitable vinyl wear and tear set in: the basic sounds are similar enough to vinyl surface noise that once the clicks and pops set in, it will probably create what sounds like a new and unique "remix."
The flip side has a much more isolated and reserved character in contrast to the almost upbeat "Teilmenge 20." "Teilmenge 33" also shows a sense of rhythm, though it is far more subtle and simplistic, and also uncomfortable: it is extremely sparse and irregular, so the "beats" never fit in when expected. Otherwise the track is full of deep cavernous scrapes and clanks, covered in a spacious, yet dark reverb. "Ein Weiteres Leben Geht Zu Ende" continues this isolated feeling, a wide open bed of tense sound on which slow collages of scrapes and crashes are built. Its slow, minimalist quality is similar in approach to the dark ambient/isolationist works by the likes of Lull and Final in the mid to late 1990s.
The closing "Teilmenge 33A" is a drastic reworking of the other track: it retains the airy, cold wind like textures and subtle bass pulse, but adds in old sci-fi style synth noises of varying durations that are almost TOO contrasting, because they feel somewhat out of place from the other textures on this LP. As a whole though, it is another great work from Asmus Tiechens that continues his clinical dissection of sound into its basic elements, and then recompiles it into something wonderfully abstract, yet carefully nuanced and structured.
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