Milieu - New Drugs For Nuclear Families Of The Seventies (Milieu Music, 2007)

1 Summer Honey (5:22)
2 Plume Train (3:55)
3 Space Piano (0:55)
4 Boulevard Haze (4:58)
5 Luke's Rusty Drum (4:38)
6 Daughter (3:46)
7 Dionysus In Reds (3:28)
8 Easily Along (1:48)
9 Alice Flagg (5:04)
10 Echo Spectrum (5:23)
11 Tropic Casanova (3:12)
12 Family Opium (5:17)

Electro aux mélodies douces, mélancolique...

A very warm welcome for this absolutely gorgeous album from Brian Grainger, aka Milieu. It's great have some copies of this full-length work on his own label and I just know that if you're a fan of the more melodic end of the electronica sound this is going to be right up your street! Using his penchant for delivering warm, friendly and beautifully melancholy music, you get a lovely combination of downbeat rhythms, delicious chords and sweet, sweet melodies. If you're a fan of the Boards you're going to adore this, and even if you're not then you're pretty much going to be charmed in a minute. Super-fine sounds. Recommended.
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Tape - Milieu (Häpna, 2003)

1 Oak Player (2:56)
2 Sponge Chorus (4:45)
3 Crippled Tree (4:08)
4 Edisto (3:39)
5 Golden Twig (4:16)
6 Long Bell (4:23)
7 Root Tattoo (3:39)
8 Switchboard Fog (4:43)

Second album de Tape, qui compte dans ses rangs Johan Berthling, fondateur du label Häpna. Huit petits morceaux fragiles de folk traitée électroniquement qui prennent leur temps...

Tape are a family trio of sorts. The Berthling brothers (Johan runs the Häpna label and has previously collaborated with Oren Ambarchi) call upon Tomas Hallonsten to help flesh out their muted, down-played vision. Arcing around a core of folk-drawn acoustic guitar, harmonium, and electronics/tapes, the band flesh out their songs with an armory of sparingly applied instrumentation and the odd special guest... if ‘flesh out’ is an appropriate term for such wildly understated music. You could try to hinge it into some kind of post-rock, instrumentalist tradition, but Milieu is far too slippery and interesting to sit well within such a backward context. Parts of Milieu are a little reminiscent of the psychedelicised folk song-forms of San Francisco’s Blithe Sons, but Tape have their own character: a hidden, humble, yet generous approach to piecing together their music; an elaborate take on an utterly charming modesty.

On “Crippled Tree,” a field recording documents a young lady calling out to her pet, a conversation between two men, the crunch of grass and dried weeds against shoes, the soft flurries of wind against microphone. Tape drop winding spools of acoustic guitar and tiny flickers of piano into the piece. You could imagine these sounds, drenched in reverb and made ‘mysterious,’ making up the core of some negligible, vapid New Age floatation – the most unfortunate sound next to silence. But Tape leave the sounds alone, letting their natural resonance ring out. “Crippled Tree” sounds like a trio of quiet, introverted musicians who’ve happened upon inhabited parklands. Unsure of why or where, they just settle into the context and play, softly.

If the trio’s music reminds me of anything, it’s the instrumental pieces that David Grubbs dotted through his past two solo albums, The Spectrum Between and Rickets and Scurvy. Small threads of acoustic guitar are tied together in unexpected weaves and tangles, left to figure their own way back to their original configuration, while armies of small sounds continually break the main motifs’ concentration. Tape repeatedly garland their folkish, lilting melodies with beautifully incongruous asides, like the electronic burbling and cutlery clatter that etches its way through “Golden Twig.” That the same track features some wonderfully hammy lap steel guitar is another indication of Tape’s ability to force several disjunctive sounds together into lovely, arch miniatures. So it’s ‘lovely’, ‘charming’, and ‘beautiful’ – but also quite moving, in its own adroit manner. Tape evince a certain dryness of approach; they never overstate the cause.

Thirty-two minutes, eight songs, sparsely arranged and gorgeously played. In a world of bald, bored exaggeration, such restraint and humility makes for a pleasant change of scenery. At the very least.
Dusted Review

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Max Richter - Valse Avec Bachir (EMI, 2008)

1 Boaz And The Dogs (3:11)
2 Iconography (3:17)
3 The Haunted Ocean 1 (2:07)
4 JSB/RPG (1:32)
5 Shadow Journal (8:27)
6 OMD - Enola Gay (3:34)
7 The Haunted Ocean 2 (0:54)
8 Taxi And APC (2:13)
9 Any Minute Now / Thinking Back (4:16)
10 I Swam Out To Sea / Return (3:52)
11 Patchouli Oil And Karate (0:36)
12 PIL - This Is Not A Love Song (4:12)
13 What Had They Done? (1:53)
14 Into The Airport Hallucination (3:27)
15 The Slaughterhouse (1:35)
16 The Haunted Ocean 3 (2:22)
17 Into The Camps (3:19)
18 The Haunted Ocean 4 (3:45)
19 Andante / Reflection (End Title) (3:30)
20 The Haunted Ocean 5 (Solo Version) (1:38)

D'une valse à l'autre. Formidable film d'animation travaillant la mémoire de soldats israéliens unis par la guerre du Liban, "Valse avec Bachir" est aussi le fruit d'un fécond pas de deux entre Ari Folman, réalisateur fasciné par la musique de Max Richter ("The Blue Notebooks" a accompagné l'écriture du scénario) et le compositeur allemand qui, dès qu'il fut contacté par Folman, a pris soin de se mettre à l'écriture pour lui délivrer, avant même le tournage de la première minute d'animation, l'ensemble des partitions. C'est peu de dire que les images du film sont désormais indissociables de cette musique : les séquences aquatiques notamment, oniriques et fulgurantes, ont donné lieu à une magnifique variation sur l'océan se déclinant en cinq plages au déroulé progressif, qui, si elles ne font pas oublier la dette due par le compositeur à Michael Nyman, contribuent à envoûter l'auditeur comme le spectateur. Max Richter s'est aussi amusé, entre autres, à piller Jean-Sébastien Bach, à se laisser hanter par la mémoire des romantiques (la "Marche Funèbre" de Chopin et la sonate pour piano D. 850 de Schubert dont les éléments apparaissent bouleversés d'une pièce à l'autre), à puiser dans son propre répertoire ("Shadow Journal", longue pulsation sourde marquée par les violons, emprunté aux "Blue Notebooks"). L'ensemble de ces pièces est peut-être ce que le compositeur a produit de plus abouti à ce jour. La satisfaction de l'auditeur ne saurait oublier la présence des deux tubes estampillés que sont "Enola Gay" (1980) et "This is Not a Love Song" (1983) : la première sert de parenthèse à une fête entre soldats sur un navire, et rappelle, par le contexte de la seconde guerre mondiale et l'apparente légèreté du morceau, les effets de contraste dans la représentation de la guerre (le film cite par ailleurs explicitement la scène de surf de "Apocalypse Now" et celle du sniper de "Full Metal Jacket") et la seconde, contemporaine de la Guerre du Liban, entre de plain-pied dans la narration (John Lydon en figure télévisuelle épileptique introduit le retour en permission de Ari qui cherche en vain à renouer avec son amoureuse). Il y a, dans la vision du film, quelque chose de fascinant à voir comment ces morceaux réveillent instantanément la nostalgie d'une époque dans un film d'animation qui, en dehors des indications historiques nécessaires, ne joue pas outre mesure sur les détails pittoresques ; c'est à la fois plus économe et saisissant que les références explicites à Kim Wilde, Kiss ou Michael Jackson dans le "Persepolis" de Marjane Satrapi. La BOF n'inclut pas en revanche les chansons sur le Vietnam détournées par des groupes rock israéliens. Peut-être moins politiquement corrects, les morceaux auraient aussi détonné par rapport à l'homogénéité des compositions de Max Richter.
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Max Richter - 24 Postcards In Full Colour (130701, 2008)

1 The Road Is A Grey Tape (1:01)
2 H In New England (1:50)
3 This Picture Of Us. P. (1:36)
4 Lullaby From The Westcoast Sleepers (2:02)
5 When The Northern Lights / Jasper And Louise (1:00)
6 Circles From The Rue Simon – Crubellier (1:04)
7 Cascade NW By W (1:12)
8 A Sudden Manhattan Of The Mind (2:51)
9 In Louisville At 7 (1:03)
10 Cathodes (1:01)
11 I Was Just Thinking (0:59)
12 A Song For H / Far Away (2:08)
13 Return To Prague (1:02)
14 Broken Symmetries For Y (1:00)
15 Berlin By Overnight (1:27)
16 Cradle Song For A (Interstate B3) (2:11)
17 Kierling / Doubt (0:50)
18 From 553 W Elm Street, Logan Illinois (Snow) (0:57)
19 Tokyo Riddle Song (1:00)
20 The Tartu Piano (2:05)
21 Cold Fusion For G (0:35)
22 32 Via San Nicolo (1:23)
23 Found Song For P. (2:24)
24 H Thinks A Journey (0:57)

Vingt-quatre titres. A peine plus de trente-trois minutes. Qu’est-il donc arrivé à Max Richter, guide de mes nuits de décembre 2004, quand j’avais découvert le bougre, un peu par hasard, via son “The Blue Notebooks”, album parfait de post-classicisme à la beauté fracassante. Lui qui aimait prendre son temps pour mieux développer ses mélodies encordées et pleines d’un piano délicat ?
Rien. Ou presque. Il a juste voulu écrire une sorte de concept album sur, tenez-vous bien, les sonneries de téléphones. Partant du postulat suivant «Pourquoi une sonnerie de téléphone devrait-elle être nulle?», il a donc composé 24 morceaux, tous de très courtes durées (de 50’’ à 2’51’’), qui pourraient, pour la plupart, faire office de ringtones (écoutez In Louisville At 7, c’est flagrant): “24 Postcards In Full Colour”.

Comme d’habitude, violons, violoncelles et piano sont au rendez-vous, avec en guest une guitare. Les ambiances propres à Max Richter, ces atmosphères planantes, vaporeuses et oniriques, elles aussi. Ce sont d’ailleurs elles qui servent de fil conducteur à cet album, dont chaque titre est différent de son prédécesseur et explore des univers parallèles.
Et si le procédé peut paraître assez frustrant parfois, tant on aimerait que l’Écossais développe ses titres et fasse muer quelques secondes de musique en un ensemble plus consistant, on ne peut quand même que s’incliner devant le talent de Max Richter, compositeur post-classique émérite, qui compose des albums comme d’autres font des rêves, et qui, avec ce “24 Postcards In Full Colour” nous invite à un voyage dans le beau, le doux, le planant et l’éphémère.

Benzine

The place where art music and pop music meet is today less a border than a bridge constantly filled with traffic flowing both ways. I like to think of German-born Max Richter as standing somewhere in the middle of that bridge, a modern composer with a pop musician's sense of conceptual unity, emotional connection, and payoff. His albums to date have played like post-minimalist classical for those who follow indie rock and electronic music-- they could lead a Mogwai fan to Arvo Pärt and Gavin Bryars, or a Pärt fan to Rachel's, Stars of the Lid, and Philip Jeck. The point is that he makes art music with broad appeal, miles from the kind of process pieces that are easier to read about than listen to.

Richter's latest takes a step into a part of the pop world few modern composers have approached: the ringtone. Old-school classical music has been there for a while-- I have friends with piano sonatas, Mozart snippets, and bits of Bach on their phones-- but Richter is one of the first to build an entire recording around this most ubiquitous man-made ambient noise. These 24 brief tracks (totaling around a half-hour) are theoretically all meant to tell you that Mom is calling, but don't come expecting the bassline to "Play That Funky Music", the pep of "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik", or anything similarly snappy. These pieces are almost entirely in the same somber vein of Richter's other work. If you want a ringtone that could stop everyone else in the produce aisle in his or her tracks with its beauty, this is for you.

The main musical aim here appears to be tonal variety. Richter places a minute of burbling, crackling ambient noise next to a painfully gorgeous minute of violins slipping in and out of harmony, or an arpeggiating electric guitar smothered in voices. The piano pieces are soft, contemplative, and a bit chilly-- they make me think of wearing a sweater while reading a thoughtfully written book by the light of a single lamp in an otherwise dark home. Autumnal is a word I occasionally see used to describe the feel of Richter's work, and it certainly applies here. These pieces are falling leaves and brisk breezes embodied in bow strokes, keystrokes, and electronic textures.

Richter has discussed the possibility of performing shows using these pieces as ringtones on his audience's phones, controlling the music from the stage via text message-- I'd love to be at one of those shows to see how it feels as a droning violin or gently pulsing, organ-like tone spreads through the crowd. Setting the concept aside, this is a frequently haunting album, though it sacrifices a great deal of flow in the name of brevity and variety. Even if no one ever downloads it to a Nokia, the hair-raising violin of "A Sudden Manhattan of the Mind" makes its point just fine as part of the album. And that's the most important thing to remember about this album: the concept is strong, but the music is stronger.

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Max Richter - From The Art Of Mirrors (Seven Things, 2006)

01 From the Art of Mirrors (52:12)

Performance live d'une musique d'accompagnement de films inédits de Derek Jarman.

Richter's The Art of Mirrors (issued by the UK downloads-only label Seven Things) is musical accompaniment for never-before-seen films from the Derek Jarman archive (around sixty S8mm film works produced between 1970 and 1983). Interestingly, while Songs From Before is comprised of short compositions threaded into a whole, The Art of Mirrors is a single-movement, 52-minute piece; however, it's a rather misleading detail—more a matter of CD indexing—since the two works are equally episodic in nature. It's not an unrelated composition either, as The Art of Mirrors opens with the sparse organ chords of “Song” and gentle vibes of “Harmonium,” and “Sunlight” surfaces too. The longer work is a live recording though there's little that sonically identifies it as such beyond modest stage noise and the closing applause. One thing that recommends the live presentation is that it builds to a ravishing climax whereas the studio set ends less dramatically with a piano coda (“From the Rue Vilin”). Obviously The Art of Mirrors is less concise than Songs From Before yet still provides a natural companion to it. In a perfect world, the release would be available in a DVD format too so that we might view Jarman's visuals alongside Richter's music.
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Max Richter - Songs From Before (130701, 2006)

1 Song (4:12)
2 Flowers For Yulia (6:50)
3 Fragment (1:41)
4 Harmonium (4:23)
5 Ionosphere (1:25)
6 Autumn Music 1 (3:54)
7 Time Passing (1:51)
8 Sunlight (5:35)
9 Lullaby (0:53)
10 Autumn Music 2 (3:49)
11 Verses (1:43)
12 From The Rue Vilin (1:02)

Après les très réussis Memory House et The Blue Notebooks, le roi anglais de l’ambiant, Max Richter, est de retour avec Songs From Before. C’est par l’intérmédiaire de ses carnets de notes bleus, publiés chez Fatcat, que l’allemand d’origine s’était fait connaître aux oreilles du plus grand nombre, dont nous faisions partie. Puis il nous avait convaincus à nouveau en accompagnant Vashti Bunyan pour son second album, l’an passé. Avec Songs From Before, sur 1130701, un sous-label de Fatcat dédié aux musiques plutôt ambiantes, Richter enfonce le clou et démontre une nouvelle fois que la musique néo-classique n’est pas une ennemie de la mélodie et de l’émotion. Car c’est bien cette dernière, ici, qui est au centre. Les pièces mélancoliques de Max Richter, montées à partir de violons, claviers, field recordings, voix (Robert Wyatt lisant Haruki Murakami, la classe), pianos et crissements informatiques, sont particulièrement évocatrices. Ces pièces "racontent" des airs parfaitement mélancoliques, qui évoquent l’esprit de Rachel’s, de Silver Mount Zion, Tiersen et autres Chauveau, mais aussi celui des complaintes cosmiques d’un Cliff Martinez ou de Brian Eno, ou encore de l’electronica minimale et abstraite. Avec son format très pop, ses douze titres pour à peine plus de trente-sept minutes, Songs From Before alterne les intermèdes aux accents électroniques, parfois accompagnés de voix, et les compositions romantiques et amples, expressives à souhait (Autumn Music 1 et 2, Flowers For Yulia). S’il semble à cet instant d’écoute et de digestion moins accompli que Blue Notebooks, Songs From Before n’en distille pas moins des mélopées hors d’âge, sobres et simplement belles. Des mélopées qui se répètent, lentement, subtilement, et qui laissent apercevoir, au lointain, un grand orchestre baignant dans la brume de l’aube.
Autres Directions

Max Richter's résumé becomes, nearly without exception, part and parcel to every review of his music: The German-born composer studied piano in Edinburgh and then at the Royal Academy of Music in London. He worked with electronics in Florence with Luciano Berio and co-founded Piano Circus, an ensemble devoted to work by 20th century composers such as Steve Reich and Arvo Pärt. In the mid-1990s, he collaborated with Future Sound of London, lending his piano and sampling experience to the long-running duo.

Sure, as paying dues in the field of new music goes, Richter's past is worthy of mention. But plundering his curriculum vitae also renders a certain logical lens for his work as a solo composer, a productive means of analyzing his self-described "post-Classical" compositions for strings, piano, electronics, and spoken word: When a Richter album-- especially his latest, Songs From Before-- is disassembled with his lineage in mind, its pieces are identifiable, clear precursors and allegiances made obvious. Electronic passages-- here, manipulated recordings of short-wave radio segments-- form both the underpinnings and segue sequences in Richter compositions. Their distant ambience reflects the foundations of Brian Eno's colossal ambient work (which Richter played with Piano Circus) and the corrupted warmth of Iannis Xenakis' best electronic pieces (which he studied with Ferio). Richter employees triads, so cinematic as they guide the perfect solstitial redolence of "Autumn Music 1", as freely and fondly as Pärt, and his rhythmic intricacy, so perfect as it guides the string-and-piano counterpoints of the splendid "Autumn Music 2", is an extension of Reich's pointillist thrust.

But, much as he did with 2004's beautiful The Blue Notebooks, Richter combines these disparate and proven ideas into fresh, emotive work. His central aesthetic of absolute taste-- from Robert Wyatt's staid readings of Haruki Murakami's writings to the gravitational rise of "Flowers for Yulia"-- is manifested, compositionally, through omnipresent motion. Richter's pieces are rarely still even if somewhat static, a facet epitomized by his strength with rubato, a classical technique for maintaining the essential meter of a passage by temporarily slowing or quickening the rhythm. It conjures an overwhelming emotional tizzy, bouts of rhythmic unpredictably guiding the familiar patterns of Richter's beloved minor triads. "Autumn Music 2" bridges these tendencies into a stunning manifesto where the strings and Richter's piano pull one another between poles of regret and redemption. Indeed, moments like these-- a four-minute emotional rapture, a 90-second string movement slightly damaged by radio receiver's static, a brief passage about true shades of blue-- show Richter's brilliance. By not distending his pieces in order to manifest his own dexterity, he does just that, squeezing multiple notions into slight spaces. The result is potency: Richter's music makes marionettes of otherwise reasonable people, his scoring hands the minor deities controlling strings capable of engendering instantaneous passions, regrets and decisions with simple melodic figures.

To that end, little here is ever belabored or iterative: This is quicker music for a quicker world, and it's Richter's most cohesive album to date. Of the 41 tracks he has released on the three albums billed under his own name, three of them breach seven minutes. None of these are on Songs From Before. This, very nearly, is pop music. Its self-aware brevity and dynamic could miff contemporaries in both classical and electronic music. But Richter is guided by proper artistic license: He understands that his predecessors-- from Brahms and Bach to Pärt and Glass-- made their marks in worlds apart from his own creative context, but that those composers borrowed liberally from the folk music (that is, the music at the center of their society's conscience) for the sake of source material and, quite simply, piqued audience interest. The Germans even had a word for Brahms' folk embodiments, and Beethoven lifted a Russian folk melody for a string quartet to please a Russian emissary. Richter takes techniques from the classics and modifies their approach to make more appropriate-- but no less efficacious-- statements for his own circumstances.

Given Songs From Before's thematic conceit, this is appropriate: Richter isn't interested in changing the way the world hears his music as much as idealizing how he wants to hear it. He resurrects past idols for present idioms, his heroes, proclivities and experiences donned as unrepentantly as the nostalgia at Songs' core.

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Max Richter - The Blue Notebooks (130701, 2004)

1 The Blue Notebooks (1:20)
2 On The Nature Of Daylight (6:11)
3 Horizon Variations (1:52)
4 Shadow Journal (8:22)
5 Iconography (3:38)
6 Vladimir's Blues (1:18)
7 Arboretum (2:53)
8 Old Song (2:11)
9 Organum (3:13)
10 The Trees (7:52)
11 Written On The Sky (1:39)

Il y a dans l'existence des joies musicales comparables à celle du coup de foudre amoureux. Au détour des allées encombrées de votre disquaire habituel, quelques notes s'envolent, arrêtent net votre élan, et vous vous trouvez saisi par cette brusque trouée de lumière, ayant perdu conscience du temps et de l'espace, réduit à l'attente éperdue de la note suivante. Le dernier morceau qui m'ait ainsi ébloui s'appelle - ce n'est pas un hasard - "On The Nature of Daylight" et c'est le second, peut-être le plus beau, du nouvel album signé par Max Richter. Élégie combustible introduite lento par les violoncelles, puis complètement dégagée de toute pesanteur par un duo de violons tournoyant en une parade amoureuse désespérée, le morceau s'impose avec force. Il s'en faut de peu pour que tout le disque, nourri au meilleur de la musique sérielle et ambient des trente dernières années (Reich, Glass, Eno, Pärt), se maintienne à cette hauteur d'inspiration. Entre minimalisme et expérimentation électronique, Richter a ainsi des trouvailles particulièrement fécondes : le mélange de percussions sourdes et de séquences mélodiques, l'échappée libre du violon dans "Shadow Journal", l'orgue répétitif et les choeurs de "Iconography", les délicats entrelacs de l'électronique et de l'acoustique sur "Arboretum".
Placé sous un haut patronage littéraire (Kafka, Czeslaw Milosz), son projet prend en outre la forme d'un concept-album réussi, la conception cédant toujours le pas à une intuition vagabonde, le minimalisme désamorçant le risque de l'emphase : régulièrement, un cliquetis de machine à écrire, la lecture de Tilda Swinton, les bruits captés dans l'environnement (croassements, sons de cloche), rappellent à l'auditeur qu'il se trouve bien dans l'exploration intime d'un univers littéraire qui restera simplement suggéré, inépuisable, non réductible à l'illustration sonore. Entre construction et sensibilité, hauteur de vue et modestie, tout semble avoir sa nécessité, et c'est presque à regret que l'on se prend à déplorer sur certains morceaux l'absence de développement du thème, ou une trop grande prégnance des modèles musicaux : par deux fois, les compositions pour piano rappellent de façon un peu voyante Philip Glass et Michael Nyman, étrange faute de goût chez un compositeur et pianiste par ailleurs si inspiré et maître de ses moyens. Faute cependant avouée et déjà pardonnée : tout le reste est superbe.
Popnews

Conceptually, Max Richter's The Blue Notebooks-- German-born composer mixes contemporary classical compositions with electronic elements in a dreamscapy journalogue featuring excerpts from Kafka's The Blue Octavo Notebooks as narrated by Tilda Swinton-- reads like a relentlessly precious endeavor, as new age music for grad students, the sort of record that sagely pats you on the back for being smart enough to seek it out. And yet in practice, despite the fact that it is exactly as outlined above, Kafka quotes and all, there is absolutely nothing exclusive or contrived-feeling about it. In fact, not only is Richter's second album one of the finest of the last six months, it is also one of the most affecting and universal contemporary classical records in recent memory.

But how to describe music that relies so completely on seeming familiar? Richter may fancy himself in a class with Philip Glass, Brian Eno and Steve Reich (indeed, his hyperattenuated sense of minimalism owes to all three), but unlike his influences, he's not remotely interested in subverting the traditional rules of composition. Short of one very beautiful moment that plunges an electronic sublow bassline into a deep sea of harpsichords and violas (see: the literally perfect "Shadow Journal"), there is nothing here to suggest that Richter is concerned with anything other than melody and economy. It's a formula he singlemindedly exploits with staggering effectiveness for the balance of the album's 40+ minutes.

Constituted mainly of sparse pieces that lean on string quartets and pianos in equal measure, The Blue Notebooks is a case study in direct, minor-key melody. Each of the piano pieces "Horizon Variations", "Vladimir's Blues" and "Written in the Sky" establish strong melodic motifs in under two minutes, all the while resisting additional orchestration. Elsewhere, Richter's string suites are similarly striking; "On the Nature of Daylight" coaxes a stunning rise out of gently provincial arrangements while the comparatively epic penultimate track "The Trees" boasts an extended introductory sequence for what is probably the album's closest brush with grandiosity. Richter's slightly less traditional pieces also resound; both the underwater choral hymnal "Iconography" and the stately organ piece "Organum" echo the spiritual ambience that characterized his work for Future Sound of London.

If, however, there is one piece that fires The Blue Notebooks off into the stratosphere, it's the aforementioned "Shadow Journal". Featuring a lone viola, some burbling electronics, a harpsichord and a subterranean bassline, it establishes a simple, keening melody and then gently pulls it wide, like warm string taffy, across its eight minutes. The fourth track on the record, it is nonetheless its centerpiece, and on a larger scale, possibly a gigantic beacon for composers searching for useful ways to introduce dance music's visceral, body-jarring qualities into the classical sphere.

But make no mistake, this is not Richter's electronic/classical crossover, nor it is really his concept record. In fact, with songs that similarly forgo the temptations of complexity and choice so as to preserve their core ideas, it's perhaps better thought of as his four-track demo, his lo-fi recording jaunt. It's Max Richter testing himself to see what he can produce under restraint. Turns out it's more than he might have otherwise.

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Max Richter - Memoryhouse (Late Junction, 2002)

1 Europe, After The Rain (6:13)
2 Maria, The Poet (1913) (4:47)
3 Laika's Journey (1:30)
4 The Twins (Prague) (1:58)
5 Sarajevo (4:03)
6 Andras (2:42)
7 Untitled (Figures) (3:27)
8 Sketchbook (1:54)
9 November (6:21)
10 Jan's Notebook (2:41)
11 Arbenita (11 Years) (7:04)
12 Garden (1973) / Interior (3:24)
13 Landscape With Figure (1922) (5:14)
14 Fragment (1:26)
15 Lines On A Page (One Hundred Violins) (1:22)
16 Embers (3:38)
17 Last Days (4:18)
18 Quartet Fragment (1908) (3:02)

Le premier, Memoryhouse (2002), emmène l’auditeur dans un voyage à travers l’Europe du 20ème siècle. Le temps et l’espace sont deux thèmes forts chez Richter. Ainsi, la phrase musicale qui compose le premier titre se décline et se modifie au travers de tout l’album. Parfois dans une autre tonalité, parfois accélérée ou ralentie, parfois tronquée. Elle se trouve comme altérée par le voyage à travers le temps et l’espace, et symbolise le va-et-vient entre la stabilité et le changement. Pour cet album, l’auteur a ajouté des sons inhabituels à la partie instrumentale jouée par un orchestre philharmonique. Ainsi, dans le morceau intitulé "Sarajevo", les quelques notes cristallines et désespérées d’une femme sont étirées et composent un chant de détresse face à l’horreur qu’a connue la capitale de la Bosnie. Sur d’autres morceaux, on entend de la pluie, et même des bruits cosmiques qui viennent évoquer le voyage spatial de la chienne Laika.
L'Auditoire

If, like me, the thought of Max Richter having full use and control of the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra fills you with a child-like sense of excitement and glee, then don't bother with this review? just track down a copy of Memoryhouse.

German-born, and of Scottish upbringing, Memoryhouse is Richter's first official solo release, and is an absolutely exemplary form of what he calls post-classical. A 65-minute, 18-track behemoth of a debut, it is all composed and produced solely by Richter himself. It is a self-proclaimed "imagined journey through the story of the last century", which seems like a daunting and near impossible image to portray. But Richter pinpoints moments, memories and influences in his own life, to map these 18 pieces out. Personal, literary, and musical experiences rain down heavily throughout; there are always many intertwining themes.

There are two themes in particular which are more prominent and which the music is structured around, the first being the opening piece "Europe After The Rain", which recurs in various forms throughout; the second being "the slow pulse on the bass drum". Richter claims that this is taken from a quote, from an event in the life of Mahler: in 1908 Mahler witnessed a funeral procession outside of his hotel room window that was accompanied only by a single bass drum.

The results are a staggering, wonderfully complex, expertly thought-out and executed release. The orchestral arrangements are stunning and provocative. Richter's experience with the "Piano Circus" and his formal musical education become evident with the complex orchestrations and expertly integrated found sounds such as voices from old radio shows, and the sound of rain (the theme) emanating from the opening track "Europe After The Rain" and resurfaces occasionally throughout. Pieces like "Maria, The Poet (1913)" incorporate spoken word, and sound a lot like A Silver Mt. Zion. "The Twins (Prague)" is a truly gorgeous piano segment, simple, but of the utmost beauty. Switching between major and minor areas, it gentle sweeps, and bleeds into the breathtaking "Sarajevo". A voice almost whispering the words "My dear love" resonates into the song about two lovers (one Christian, one Muslim), shot dead while fleeing the besieged city. An operatic female voice cries out as the violins build up momentum, swirling heavenwards.

"November" and "Last Days" are the two boldest and heaviest pieces, and are so very grandiose in nature. "November" uses an unconventional power chord arrangement, but both are very grand, and both herald something of great beauty, and are so overly dramatic and ostentatious that they will almost knock you off your feet. "Quartet (1908)" is the final track, and is a reprise of the opener. The music is intentionally played through a valve amp from the 1960s, so it sounds like an old 78. It gives off a nice warm, distant noise, reminiscent of the backing music you would hear in films from the 1940s and 1950s.

"Memoryhouse" isn't quite as streamlined as "The Blue Notebooks", and it is all the better for it. Every track is a masterpiece, but because there are 18 tracks, and it is 65 minutes long, it can be pummelling; it takes endurance so, as a whole, it is best taken in smaller doses, over repeated listenings. It must be noted that it doesn?t suffer for this; even in small doses it is extremely potent.

With Richter's use of themes in each individual piece and throughout, he has accomplished an amazing level of depth. This music oozes genius, and commands respect. He has managed to create an album of such great sophistication, but at no point does it feel oppressive. He has also managed to achieve what very few people could ever hope to achieve, a classical (or is that post-classical ?) album for the masses.
Foxy Digitalis

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Philip Glass - Mishima (Nonesuch, 1985)

A1 Mishima/Opening (2:46)
A2 November 25: Morning (4:08)
A3 1934: Grandmother & Kimitake (3:37)
A4 Temple Of The Golden Pavilion ("Like Some Enormous Music") (3:06)
A5 Osamu's Theme: Kyoko's House (2:58)
A6 1937: Saint Sebastian (1:05)
A7 Kyoko's House ("Stage Blood Is Not Enough") (5:00)
B1 November 25: Ichigaya (2:11)
B2 1957: Award Montage (3:56)
B3 Runaway Horses ("Poetry Written With A Splash Of Blood") (9:09)
B4 1962: Body Building (1:29)
B5 November 25: The Last Day (1:30)
B6 F-104: Epilogue From Sun And Steel (1:59)
B7 Mishima/Closing (2:57)

Ecrivain exceptionnel, film exceptionnel, BO exceptionnelle....

Exceptional writer, exceptional movie, exceptional OST...

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Library Tapes - Feelings For Something Lost (Resonant, 2006)

1 ...But Now Things Were Different, With Birds Unable To Speak (3:04)
2 Feelings For Something Lost In Two Parts (Pt. 1) (1:46)
3 Leaves Abstract In A Village Plunged Into Mourning... (3:33)
4 Abandoned Houses Hiding In Flickering Shadows (3:04)
5 Lines Running Low Through 7th (...The Shame Of It All...) (1:26)
6 It Was A Cold Day In February And We Walked Across The Lake.... (1:34)
7 Departures (Burning Saints For Your Own Sins) (4:11)
8 Shut Your Eyes And You'll Find The Trees Turning Into Flames (2:52)
9 When We No Longer Are Around To Write Our Love On Each Others Eyelids (1:08)
10 Fading Lights And Distant Memories (2:00)
11 Feelings For Something Lost In Two Parts (Pt. 2) (1:45)
12 It Ends With A Version Of Keeping, Reminding About What Once Where... (2:22)

Un peu plus d’un an après leur très bon premier album (Alone In The Bright Lights Of A Shattered Life), les Suédois de Library Tapes reviennent déjà avec un nouveau long-format (qui ne dure toutefois qu’une petite demi-heure), toujours sur Resonant : Feelings For Something Lost.

On y retrouve assez logiquement ce qui faisait la structure du disque précédent : des accords ou notes de piano délicatement posés sur une texture électronique légèrement granuleuse, à base de vibrations, petits vrombissements et crépitements. Alors que la tendance néo-classique “piano solo” était à son apogée à l’époque du premier album, celle-ci est quelque peu retombée depuis ce qui permet à Library Tapes de ne plus apparaître comme une formation surfant sur une vague où la pose était parfois de rigueur (même si le noir et blanc stylisé de la pochette apparaît encore comme une queue de comète de cette mouvance). Par conséquent, comme il pouvait déjà le faire sur Alone In The Bright Lights Of A Shattered Life, le duo se fait surtout probant quand il sort du strict cadre de ce genre musical avec la densification de la texture décrite précédemment, la participation lointaine de la guitare saturée d’Erik Skodvin de Deaf Center (Departures (Burning Saints For Your Own Sins)) ou l’insertion d’une six-cordes pincée jouée par Colleen (Leaves Abstract In A Village Plunged Into Mourning).

EtherReal

Last year's gorgeous 'Alone In The Bright Lights Of A Shattered Life' album from Swedish duo Library Tapes landed here amongst a deluge of piano flecked gems. 2005 proved to be the year when the piano became trendy once more and artists flocked around the delicate ivories of their grandmother's old upright. The two Scandinavians avoided comparison to the glitchy homespun loveliness of the Boats, to Goldmund's stark and simple minimalism or to Max Richter's Nyman-esque epics thanks to their very personal take on the genre. Using 78rpm vinyl crackle and distorted shortwave radio static as primary instruments, the record took the process and the medium with as much importance as the compositions themselves creating an unmatched murky atmosphere reminiscent of your favourite flickering black-and-white films. 'Feelings for Something Lost' is the next logical step from this, playing like a lost soundtrack, only barely recoverable from its decomposing master tapes. The tracks are for the most part as short as film cues (the album actually only weighs in at a scant 28 minutes!) but for some reason it feels like this is the only way it could have been. If you remember the utterly magnificent 'Memories of Green' track from Vangelis's seminal Blade Runner soundtrack then you'll have a good idea of what David Wenngren and Per Jardsall are shooting at here. Faded photographs, distant memories, foggy northern European landscapes, rain on mud-caked windows... you know what I'm talking about. Interestingly the duo have roped in some rather important collaborators to help them conjure up an even more focused image - on 'Leaves Abstract in a Village Plunged into Mourning...' they take Colleen's delicate fingerpicking and manage to make it sound like an old Gramophone record and on 'Departures' they look to neighbouring Norway and use Deaf Center's Erik Skodvin's ample talents to help them piece together the album's darkest and most dread-filled vignette. I must say that since hearing Akira Rabelais' stunning 'Eisoptrophobia' I have been digging around for something which treats the humble piano in the same crumbling manner - finally I've found it. Wenngren and Jardsell have created a faded postcard from the monochrome landscapes of Sweden, left it in a dusty junk shop and then offered it to us with love. Highly recommended.
Boomkat


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Mirror - Eye of the Storm (Streamline, 1999 (2003 reissue))

1 Eye Of The Storm (42:59)

Un morceau d'éternité hypnotique...

An hypnotizing piece of eternity...

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Tim Coster - Star Mill (CLaudia, 2007)

1 Untitled
2 Untitled
3 Untitled

Cet album rassemblant trois morceaux de 37 minutes est sans doute l'une des meilleures réalisations de Tim Coster... Il utilise ici le laptop pour manipuler ses fields recordings, mais on peut entendre également entre autres sources: basse, ocarina, accordéon, cloches, harmonica, mbira, bouteilles, bols, et etc. Drones sublimes et calmes dans lesquels on s'immerge totalement....

Drone works seem to be plentiful these days. I've always had a difficult time estimating the relative size of our little community. It seems that as the years pass, the number of new projects grows geometrically, so one can only assume that the listener base undergoes a similar reaction. Digital audio software advances in a similar fashion, making the listener immediately into the performer with only a modicum of effort and investment. Online magazines, such as this one, serve more to measure the incalculable release schedule of bedroom labels than to further discourse on musical methodology. By writing this review, I've also made a seemingly fixed record of a limited audio document's existence. Strictly utilitarian, right? (And also with the faintest tinge of rabid consumerism. It affects us worse than most.) On bad days, complete pessimism overwhelms me as I contemplate the apparent futility in trying to document the scene or promote a release that most people will never hear (or care to hear) no matter what glowing terms spill across the telephone wire. But then, something like Star Mill shows up in my mailbox.

Possessing New Zealander citizenship should seem a cliché in this day in age for outsider music (are we still outsiders?), but here's yet another entry in what should be an invasion, Tim Coster. I'm under the impression that he's primarily a laptop performer, blending field recordings and other audio sources. I tend to associate that technique with glacial precision at its best, and sterile stillness at its nadir. ?Star Mill? feels a bit different. On this three-track, thirty-seven-minute excursion, we truly get the best of two competing aesthetics sophisticated digital and (at least the feel) of workman analog. As the opening breathless salvos roll in, the desired sound-realm could either be the murky oak forest hiding demonic familiars or the last moments of fried antiquarian hardware. If I stare at the cover art, I suddenly hear the creaking of the pictured waterwheel, along with the spectres floating above the broken floorboard into the ephemeral night. What makes this recording breath are the milliseconds of imperfections that break the digital gloss, turning it into something alive and fragile (and not just a preprogrammed exercise). Normally, I listen to subtle drone musics while working. Star Mill never fails to make me lose my concentration. Now, I need to get back to what I should be doing. Beyond recommended.

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Lichens - Omns (Kranky, 2007)

1 Vever Of Agassou (4:57)
2 Faeries (8:19)
3 Bune (8:46)
4 M st r ng W tchcr ft L v ng n Sp r t (18:41)
5 Sighns (2:27)

Après le réussi The Psychic Nature Of Being, le projet Lichens de Rob Lowe (par ailleurs membre de 90 Day Men) présente un nouveau disque, Omns, qui s’accompagne d’un DVD. Sur ce dernier, on retrouve une performance (guitares et pédales) de Lichens à l’Empty Bottle de Chicago : une sorte de western semi-silencieux, pénétré, long de 28 minutes. Entrecoupé de quelques plans forestiers, on y voit Lichens y donner de la voix, légèrement filtrée, apportant un timbre toujours plus psyché-folk, dronique et bizarroïde, à ses longues complaintes de guitare. L’album en lui-même n’est pas bien loin. Il est constitué de cinq longs titres qui reprennent les choses là où son prédécesseur les avait laissées : la musique de Lichens, improvisée à souhait, prend la forme d’un millefeuille de guitare, piano, percussions et chant. Follement psychédélique mais avec un côté parfois un peu malade, pas toujours rassurant, Omns évoque les grands espaces américains, la guitare d’Hendrix, les cheveux longs ondulant sous le vent et les forets (encore).
Autres Directions

Rob Lowe, bassist and vocalist for the 90 Day Men, ex-TV On the Radio collaborator and general good sport is something of a spiritual soul. Of course, I don't actually know the feller, but after listening to 'Omns' there's no doubt in my mind that he is on a different universal plane than the rest of us. There are some records you listen to which make you think that they're made in a bubble, out of time if you will, and "Omns" is one of them. The key is likely in the simplicity, the music of Lichens is unfussy and desperately uncomplicated, maybe it's just a voice or a plucked bass guitar but that's all you need, and the space created by this is hypnotic. A good reference point would probably be Akira Rabelais' absolutely stunning album 'Spellewauerynsherde', an album which had a similarly ghostly treatment of vocals. However where Rabelais used samples Lowe uses his own voice and engages with the music on a simply devastating spiritual level. Curl upon curl of wordless murmurs erupt like fountains of blue smoke and are accompanied by ethereal string plucks and waterlogged gurgles. This is music to accompany you to the other side - get rid of your spirit guide, with Lowe's hums and whispers you should have no trouble crossing over, it grabs hold of you and lets you think - this is the power of measured simplicity. Also included in the package is a DVD of a live performance, showing you Lowe's absolute engagement with the music as he falls into a near-trance of improvisation. Fans of the Nonesuch Explorer series of World Music releases or more recently Grouper simply need to check this out without delay. Breathtaking.
Boomkat

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Steven R. Smith - From Ashes Come (3 Acre Floor, 2000)

1 Loomings (4:22)
2 Footfalls Stitched Among Others (3:01)
3 Her Walking Dress (8:02)
4 Latitudes (2:31)
5 Behind And Before (6:16)
6 Dusking (6:30)
7 Tow-Line Onto Surface (4:34)
8 To Rise And Move On (3:52)

Riffs épiques et crescendos apocalyptiques...

Before his imagination fled into the shadows of walled hamlets and wooden chapels and evolved the mysteries of Hala Strana out of East European traditional musics, Steven R. Smith was busily making soundtracks for more barren landscapes. From Ashes Come (1999) and Slate Branches (2000) are characterized by atmospheres constructed around the electric guitar, both records being chock full of epic riffs and apocalyptic crescendos that take their time growing from the bracken and ashes of weird percussion, drones, bowed wails and toy piano melodies. Wonderful, lonely, reverb soaked instrumentals that make perfect rainy day soundtracks. Steven R. Smith has always been an inventor of instruments, and while now he's more obsessed with experimenting with the mechanics and tonalities of Hungarian traditional instruments, on these earlier records recorded under his own name we recognize a spirit more akin to Harry Partch, where unusual and/or abandoned objects are modified and given a musical -- if only fleeting -- life. Perhaps with some of the earliest Thuja, these recordings are very much at the root of things for what was to become the Jewelled Antler family tree. (If you're not convinced you need them both, From Ashes Come might be closer in nature to the epic moods of Mirza while Slate Branches indulges more in sublime tonalities and atmospheres before divulging its rock).
Aquarius Records

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Steven R. Smith - The Death Of Last Year's Man (Emperor Jones, 1999 (2000 reissue))

1 I Tried To Leave You
2 Death Of A Disco Dancer
3 Morning Dew
4 Regen Volt, Soka Lesz

Recueil de deux morceaux parus sur un 45t épuisé sorti sur Autopia et de deux inédits, soit quatre reprises au total...

Four covers done by Mr. Smith that were released previously only on vinyl, two from a now out of print 7" and two never before released tracks. If you've heard Steven R. Smith's other recordings you're probably aware that he excels in the art of whiskey soaked, tape saturated drone rock. His cover of Leonard Cohen's "I Tried To Leave You", which starts off the disk certainly testifies to that. All the best moments of the Dirty Three, but with the balls of the Velvet Underground and somehow wrapping into it all the garagey psychedelia of Six Organs of Admittance or Vibracathedral Orchestra. Along with the Cohen' track are covers of the Smiths ("Death of a Disco Dancer"), the Grateful Dead's old standby "Morning Due" (equally brilliantly liberated a la Einsturzende Neubauten's version) and a cover of Muzsikas' "Regen Volt, Soka Lesz." And, we might add, all done as instrumentals. For those of you who haven't heard his albums yet, this is a really great introduction to Smith's mysterious and romantic sonic world!

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Steven R. Smith - Autumn Is The End (Darla Records, 1999)

1 Redivivus
2 Sifting Chimelle
3 This Fleeced Reel To This Nothing Already Then
4 In Held Ambit Gilding
5 Wan And Smiling Assent
6 Ohne ... / Long, Long Hence

Bande son à la Ennio Morricone....

Critically aclaimed Autumn is the End is the second solo record from Steven R. Smith of Mirza. The first was self released on Mirza's Autopia label in 1996. The new record creates a mood akin to a barren, Ennio Morricone-esque landscape caught in the decline of the season. The warm Indian Summer air gently bakes the last of the season's flowers. As the fall approaches, sinewy instrumentation and percussion echo and wrap around each other with a pervasive air of longing and nostalgia. This is an instrumental soundtrack for more introspective moments, when time seems to wind itself down, and one gains opportunity for perspective on the landscape.
Darla Records

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Thee Silver Mountain Reveries - The "Pretty Little Lightning Paw" E.P.

The result of passionate and inebriated studio jam sessions, this would be a fantastic record were it not for some questionable production decisions and vocalist/guitarist Efrim’s unfortunate voice which is to this album what too much salt is to good food.

Pretty Little Lightning Paw, a 30-minute four track EP begins with a rousing call to action as a woman exhorts the title, “More action! Less Tears!” to powerful guitar chords, crashing drum cymbals and stirring violin sweeps. While those are the last vocals to be heard, the song’s intensity and raw emotional power make it a stunning opener.

The remaining three songs have lyrics articulated in an uninhibited, almost drunken manner. Efrim’s voice is particularly objectionable when he hits the high notes on “pretty little lightning paw,” not unlike a cat serenading in the back yard in the remote hours. A four-person choir does help take the edge off, but Efrim’s voice merits comparison with the Shaggs, intentional or not.

The vocals on "There's a river in the valley of melting snow" are much more tolerable. Comprised solely of vocals and guitar, Efrim narrates a descriptive agrarian setting which turns into personal lamentation soaked with echo. The decision to dilute the vocals through studio treatments results in a ghostly reverberation making for a more palatable song. One can almost picture a pallid spectre of a miner or hiker wandering the valley and singing his lonely song for eternity.

The instrumentations – bass, drums, organ/piano and Efrim’s inspired guitar – are masterful and evocatively arranged. The musical tone of the lyric-based songs are consistent to projects affiliated with godspeed you! black emperor – cinematic and suggestive of vast, desolate tundra-like spaces and ghost towns in a world on the edge of apocalypse. Production wise, the songs follow the same pattern, starting clean, then drowning in a processed-haze that becomes almost hallucinogenic.
Dusted Review

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Soccer Committee & Machinefabriek - Clay (self release, 2007)

01 Clay (20:00)

Collaboration entre Rutger Zuyderveldt (Machinefabriek) et Mariska Baars (Soccer Committee) à la voix...

Has it really been over a month since the last Machinefabriek release? Where's the guy been? We've all become addicted - it's like heavy narcotics, you can't start limiting the flow at this crucial Point! But then this extra special 3" release has been seriously worth the wait. The first big difference between this and Rutger's previous releases is the absolutely gorgeous hand-made packaging - a far cry from the usual tidy plastic packs we've become so accustomed to, 'Clay' comes in a lovely brown stock sleeve, hand painted in the most sublime fashion... it also happens to be a collaboration with the wonderful soccer Committee (aka Mariska Baars) who we all fell hopelessly in love with last week on the release of her debut album 'sC'. Phew... a pretty important meeting of minds then, but Rutger Zuydervelt couldn't rest easy co-producing a piece of abstract pop, rather he takes Baars' voice as the backbone and starting point for the twenty-minute piece and proceeds to morph it into a haze of slow-burning ambience, building from almost nothing into a shimmering fuzz of breathy, vocal noise until hitting near silence again for the glacial conclusion. So maybe this is more obviously linked to Machinefabriek stylistically than Miss Baars' measured output, but knowing its her voice underpinning everything you are hearing gives the track a humanity and a soul that's all too often lacking from experimental music. This is the sound of life slowed down to a crawl, like one of those three dimensional freeze-frames that allows you to absorb your surroundings with intimate detail and awareness. "Clay" is another deeply impressive chapter in Machinefabriek's acclaimed catalogue, he is quickly developing into one of the most interesting and engrossing artists we have had the pleasure of stocking here at Boomkat and you can't help but get the feeling that these releases are going to be regarded a bit like early material from collectable painters and artists who go on to achieve much wider public acceptance. Once again, you already know the deal with these - we have 70 copies only and they ain't gonna last so hurry to secure yourselves a copy. Essential purchase!
Boomkat

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Machinefabriek - Zink (Cut Hands, 2007)

01 Zink (15:34)

Drone de guitare lentement bâti, issu d'une performance live au Club Babel à Utrecht en 2006 puis retravaillé à la maison...

Based on a live performance at Club Babel in Utrecht, The Netherlands, December 30 2006 with guitar, mixing deck and effectpedals. Edited and processed at home in January 2007.

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Machinefabriek - Kruimeldief (Machinefabriek Remixed) (self release, 2007)

1-1 Stofstuk (5:30)
Remixed By
1-2 Stofstuk (Freiband Remix) (4:15)
Remix - Freiband
1-3 Stofstuk (Peter Broderick Remix) (3:22)
Remix - Peter Broderick
1-4 Stofstuk (Jgrzinich Remix) (4:38)
Remix - Jgrzinich
1-5 Stofstuk (Kim Cascone Remix) (4:32)
Remix - Kim Cascone
1-6 Stofstuk (Greg Haines Remix) (9:23)
Remix - Greg Haines
1-7 Stofstuk (Xela Remix) (5:42)
Remix - Xela
1-8 Stofstuk (Mark Templeton Remix) (3:48)
Remix - Mark Templeton
1-9 Stofstuk (Jefre Cantu-Ledesma Remix) (6:02)
Remix - Jefre Cantu-Ledesma
1-10 Stofstuk (Mitchell Akiyama Remix) (4:48)
Remix - Mitchell Akiyama
1-11 Stofstuk (Aaron Martin Remix) (4:40)
Remix - Aaron Martin (2)
1-12 Stofstuk (Strangelet Remix) (3:17)
Remix - Strangelet
1-13 Stofstuk (Alva Noto Remix) (10:52)
Remix - Alva Noto
1-14 Stofstuk (Luigi Archetti Remix) (4:36)
Remix - Luigi Archetti

2-1 Stofstuk (Lesser Remix) (6:02)
Remix - Lesser
2-2 Stofstuk (Jeroen Vandesande Remix) (6:30)
Remix - Jeroen Vandesande
2-3 Stofstuk (Tim Coster Remix) (2:22)
Remix - Tim Coster
2-4 Stofstuk (Pita Remix) (8:33)
Remix - Pita
2-5 Stofstuk (Svarte Greiner Remix) (5:37)
Remix - Svarte Greiner
2-6 Stofstuk (The No Remix) (5:16)
Remix - No, The
2-7 Stofstuk (Adam Pacione Remix) (6:10)
Remix - Adam Pacione
2-8 Stofstuk (Henrik Rylander Remix) (6:40)
Remix - Henrik Rylander
2-9 Stofstuk (Chris Herbert Remix) (6:52)
Remix - Chris Herbert (2)
2-10 Stofstuk (Julien Neto Remix) (5:24)
Remix - Julien Neto
2-11 Stofstuk (Lukas Simonis Remix) (5:27)
Remix - Lukas Simonis
2-12 Stofstuk (Gert-Jan Prins Remix) (3:28)
Remix - Gert-Jan Prins
2-13 Stofstuk (Steinbrüchel Remix) (8:53)
Remix - Steinbrüchel

Série de remixes du morceau Stofstuk de Machinefabriek, composé à l'origine uniquement d'un bol chantant et d'un laptop, décliné sur 150 minutes....

Double cd featuring specially comissioned remixes from the likes of Alva Noto, Julien Neto, Kim Cascone, Xela, Pita, Svarte Greiner, Mitchell Akiyama, Greg Haines, Chris Hebert, Mark Templeton and many many more. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES FOR THE WORLD!* Fresh from the busiest hard drive in electronic music, here comes yet another new release from Rutger Zuydervelt, only this time it's a remix collection featuring 26 reinterpretations by the many friends and admirers of the peerlessly prolific Dutchman. The piece in question, 'Stofstuk' was composed by Zuydervelt just a few months ago, which goes to show how quickly the turnaround has been on this ambitious project. Fittingly, 'Stofstuk' opens up the album, setting the high benchmark for the remixes to come - incorporating some of the most distinctive elements of the Machinefabriek sound arsenal, including the customary oceanic static and muffled, semi-industrial drone. As tends to be the case with Zuydervelt's work there's something inherently uplifting about the composition; beneath the epidermis of gently shifting tones and surface crackle there's a rich detail and warmth underpinning everything. Influential sound designer Kim Cascone adds some further droning depth to the original and brings whispered vocals to the mix, making for a beautifully spooky piece of music. Greg Haines, meanwhile, twists and mangles his gorgeous Cello strings all over the original, adding an epic sense of cinematic melancholy to the track over a spending nine minutes. Following on from there Xela brings the noise, stringing together a montage of voices, blurred recordings and ancient-sounding hum. Other highlights on the first disc come from Machinefabriek collaborator Aaron Martin, who contributes a wonderful concrète-enhanced reworking, plus an Alva Noto epic in a similar vein to his recent Xerrox album - just incredibly beautiful stuff. Onto the second disc and a stellar turn from Lesser gets proceedings underway, while Pita fries a few sound chips for his reinterpretation and Kranky's Chris Herbert brings his track to a low frequency, highly textured simmer. Deaf Center's Erik Skodvin fashions a remarkable piece of work out of his turn as Svarte Greiner - taking in field recordings and even a hint of faded, distant strings emerging from the rich miasma he brews up. The set closes with a microsound flourish thanks to the high frequency intricacies of Gert-Jan Prins and the reliably magnificent Steinbruchel, who concocts the most harmonious and subtle of sound banks for his superb epilogue. Pretty much an unmissable package for anyone interested in experimental electronics - beautiful packaging and a one-off limited pressing making this a real collectors item you should snap up without delay. ESSENTIAL PURCHASE!
Boomkat

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Ø - Oleva (Sähkö Recordings, 2008)

A1 Unien Holvit (4:00)
A2 S-Bahn (5:26)
A3 Set The Controls To The Heart Of The Sun (5:46)
B1 Loihdittu (5:04)
B2 Vastus (4:55)
B3 U-Bahn (4:49)
C1 Frekvenssi (2:19)
C2 Koituva (6:35)
C3 Mojave (5:57)
D1 Tasanko (4:29)
D2 Kausaaliton (7:23)
D3 Muistetun Palaava Taajuus (4:50)

Mika Vainio (Pan Sonic) sous son pseudonyme de Ø signe ici un album d'électronique sombre qui évolue de l'industriel à l'ambient et dont les drones et les atmosphères nous enveloppent...

I still don't know how to pronounce Mika Vainio's pseudonym of choice for this project, but under the Ø moniker he has proffered some of the finest electronic music known to mankind since way back in 1993 with the template setting series of 12"s for his native Sahko imprint. Now we're in 2008 and the man can't help but shock us to the core again with an album of pristine darkside industrial Electronic purism deeply engraved with signature drones and enveloping atmospheres that still sound quite unlike anything else on the planet. Over the course of 12 tracks Ø cross-hatches between shades of the original Pan Sonic heavy industrial sound, with the more delicate tones of his explorative ambience heard on the fabulous 'Kantamoinen' album, in classic Vainio style, marrying the two and birthing a perfect balance of Teutonic techno darkness and seasoned Finnish solitude from his base in Berlin. Our favourite tracks here would have to be the stern Kraftwerkian electro melodies of 'U-Bahn' or maybe the irreplaceable electro acoustic atmospheres of 'Koituva' but then there's the final run of three pitch black ambient mind melters that will leave you in an shivering mess. Basically it's just way too much to pick from, come back to me in a years time and i may have a few tried and tested faves. Fans of everything from Aphex's most out-there moments on Drukqs to Deathprod's stranded sonic isolations will be in their element with this album, we can't recommend it enough. Get properly darked - an incredible album from Sahko once again.
Boomkat

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Request : Tetsu Inoue - Ambiant Otaku (Fax +49-69/450464, 1994)

1 Karmic Light (17:04)
2 Low Of Vibration (11:11)
3 Ambiant Otaku (10:49)
4 Holy Dance (15:36)
5 Magnetic Field (17:47)

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Aidan Baker - At The Fountain Of Thirst (Mystery Sea, 2003)

1 Mélusine (11:35)
2 Rusalki (18:45)
3 Lorelei (16:00)
4 Undine (6:50)

Drones calmes et spacieux...

Aidan Baker is a remarkably prolific artist, and with every remarkably prolific artist, there’s that age-old argument that just has to come up. Is Baker prolific because he’s an undisputed musical genius? Or is his style of music so simple that it would be hard for him not to release thirty zillion albums a year? Personally, I find it to be a mixture of both. His drone-metal stuff with Nadja and his ambient work under his own name all pretty much sounds the same, and could be considered “simple”, in a sense. But mostly everything he’s done is solid, and a lot of his albums are excellent, some verging on perfect. I guess it’s sort of hard to tell.

At the Fountain of Thirst was recorded during one of these prolific streaks, way back in 2003, when Baker’s music started gaining attention. While Nadja records are heavy and crushing, and are often exercises in dynamics and epic build-ups, Baker’s solo work is more simple and ambient in nature and design. At the Fountain doesn’t try to reverse this trend. The songs here don’t really move around much, choosing to stay limited within their framework of repetitive synth strokes and other simplistic yet effective electronic devices. The result is a more calming album, one that is more structured and simple than most of Nadja’s releases, but also digs down with more emotion. Plus, like the best ambient albums, At the Fountain of Thirst strikes a variety of moods within its compositions. If you look towards the third track on the album, titled “Lorelei”, you’ll find the best example of this. The track’s pulsating synths are airy and calming, but random crashes of Nadja-light feedback are more eerie and foreboding than relaxing. These little additions, like the bursts of feedback, Baker makes with the track alters the mood, and makes it more interesting and demanding another listen. The track lasts a pretty lengthy sixteen minutes, but it speeds by. On the other side of length spectrum is “Undine”, which is the shortest track on the album; it is also the best. Consisting of layers of fast moving clicks--for lack of a better word, we’ll call the sound “clicks” for now--with breathless synths floating over weightlessly above, “Undine” is easily more beautiful than anything Sigur Ros or Explosions in the Sky could do, and yet barely anyone has ever heard the song. Words can barely even describe how refreshed you feel after listening to it.

Not every track is this engaging, however. At the Fountain opens on an especially sour note, as “Melusine” is so redundant that a simultaneously eerie and heavenly feeling that you begin to achieve after the first six minutes starts to condense into boredom. Listening to this album, though, you can tell that Baker doesn’t really care what we, the listeners, actually think. These tracks are obviously created for his own benefit, for him to pore out his emotions into lengthy ambient compositions, and we’re just lucky enough to be brought along for the ride. At the Fountain of Thirst can be inconsistent, especially near the beginning, but it’s certainly an experience to be relished when listened to in full.
Sputnik Music

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