

1 Revelation Of An Anaplumb (Excerpt) (60:00)
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It begins with something that could be the sound of DNA gently floating in a mitochondrial soup, and ends with an ambient texture piece with lyrics culled from a particularly dense passage from Milton's "Paradise Lost." In between lies an intriguing exploration of worlds of tactile sensualism (a topographic map of the skin, as it were) and a deeper look at the inner forces and powerful unseen drives that lurk below. It's a dense and prickly world created on I Fall Into You, by Canadian guitarist, loopist, and lyricist Aidan Baker (he's also worked as a writer of poetry and fiction, and his works in the written word deal with similar inner concerns of language, sensuality and the darker side of the psyche).
The highlight of the whole disc is the mesmerizing two-guitar gamelan of "Symbiosis," a place where wafting, repetitive guitars merge with gently tumescent drumlike sounds until no instrument is truly distinct throughout its 10 ambient minutes. The centerpiece of the five-song disc is the nearly 25-minute "Lysis," which opens with vocalist Naomi Okabe blankly intoning the phrase, "I fall into you and replicate." There's some significance to this multi-layered, seemingly inscrutable lyrical phrase – indeed the lyric itself can be seen as a tool to describe Baker's music. It can even take on different possible meanings with each different listen: the sense one makes of the phrase on the fourth time through the CD can be significantly different from the first time, or the fifth. It's an ambiguity that hangs, that changes and morphs, much like the music itself in all five of these pieces. The title phrase resurfaces again later, during "Phage", a one-minute spoken-word piece that oddly enough recalls the Velvet Undergound's "Lady Godiva's Operation," with two completely different sets of words happening simultaneously in either speaker.
Those who wish to carp might point out that Baker maps out similar terrain as others before, such as Michael Brook, Biota, or even Brian Eno. But the important thing to remember is a lesson that Brian Eno himself explicitly set forth: the beauty and strength of any ambient or instrumental music lies precisely in its alien quality of strangeness and unfamiliarity, its inherent newness to the ears, an experience much like looking at a topographic map of an unfamiliar place, or viewing up-close surface photographs of distant planets that have been beamed to us from faraway spacecraft. There are colossal canyons you've never seen before, unexpected meteorology lighting the skies, and even boring desert vistas that cry out in utter plainness, but even the plainest desert contains an unexplainable beauty just for being so different and unfamiliar. In that sense, I Fall Into You is all about exploring the cartography of an uncharted place: looking around, searching for recognition, or even surrendering to one's surroundings and just taking it all in.
The fact that Baker has done so much with far fewer resources (4-track, sparse equipment, one month of recording) than any of his immediate reference points is in itself a victory for ambient music's inherent Everyman quality. But what's even more impressive, is the fact that Aidan Baker is presenting us with ambient instrumental music that isn't just a map of some exotic fictional Roger Dean-type planetscape, but a view of the darkest parts of the human interior itself.










Taylor Deupree + Christopher Willits Live In Japan, 2004 is the first release in 12k’s new Limited Series. Issued in a numbered edition of 500 cds, Live In Japan, 2004 has been created as a document of Deupree’s and Willits’ performances at the Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media (YCAM) in Yamaguchi, Japan during their 2004 tour and is being released to support their 2005 tour of Japan. It will first be made available in Tokyo on June 18th at the Shibuya Uplink Factory and will continue to be sold throughout the 9-day tour. Any remaining copies will then be made available in 12k’s online shop and at future live shows from the artists.
Live In Japan, 2004 features 3 live recordings from YCAM on June 26th, 2004. The first piece is a collaborative improvisational set between the two artists, borrowing textures and styles from each of them, not unlike their previous two critically acclaimed releases Audiosphere 8 (Audiosphere/Sub Rosa, 2003), and Mujo (Plop, 2004). However, new directions are taken into pulsing and repetitive frameworks, more intense than either artist is commonly known for. The second track is Christopher Willits’ own performance capturing his signature live, folded guitar work and the third track is a micro/ambient set from Deupree utilizing not only computer-based sounds but live, processed melodica as well as real-time room recording manipulations.
ChristopherWillits.com








La découverte de ce premier album enregistré par le duo formé par Akira Kosemura et Haruka Nakamura, deux artistes dont on n’avait jamais entendu parlé par ici jusqu’à présent, rappelle celle de Yupi de Kazumasa Hashimoto en 2003.
Faute de connaître la scène japonaise, l’émerveillement était intact et ce disque se permet encore de régulières incursions dans la platine en fin de soirée. Depuis, certaines productions en provenance du pays du soleil levant se révèlent régulièrement séduisantes et il ne faut pas se méfier à l’austérité de la présentation de ces albums et la confidentialité d’artistes aux noms difficiles à retenir.
Afterglow fait parti de ces bonnes découvertes, de ce genre de disque qui dépasse le cadre limité du laptop pour s’égailler dans des champs électro-acoustiques merveilleux. Les deux tokyoïtes allient des claviers aux harmonies tendant vers le piano classique à des habillages électroniques (quelques beats, des parasites...) et des samples ajustés avec pertinence (un cri d’enfant, une sonnette de vélo, ce genre de sonorités du quotidien). Leurs compositions dégagent ainsi un certain onirisme grâce à des mélodies contemplatives surlignées par de petits détails. Un beau disque d’automne.
Autres Directions
Performed largely on piano and electronics, the selections on Afterglow, a collaboration between Akira Kosemura and Haruka Nakamura, provide a rich, resonating meld of opulent and bell-like tones. From here, the ambience of the release widens into a stately panorama of obscure and half-submerged gestures: shards of electronic splinters that sound like the links of a chain uncoiling, rumbling undertow’s, and low end sublimities on the piano, often twinning the aura with the non-homogenous.
It’s this element of the recording that allows it to ring out as a joyful vortex of sound, as something more than pretty ornamentation. Themes crystalize, then undergo serial changes of state as pungent chords blend or clash. What is more, the set as a whole is well measured. The duo shift from hypnotic ambiences, to restrained contemplative pieces, to swirling, insistent yet centreless expressive motifs. In so doing, the terms of the albums development are discernible, and its changes sound true.
Take a track such as “Graf”, for instance: here, melodic flurries arise out of digital squits, tinging the air with a lovely sense of longing and faint hope. Indeed, although a few works fail to achieve any manner of distinction, many ghosts of melody hover in the sinewy webs of this delightfully expressive and genuine work.
Cyclic Defrost


The Scandinavian collaborative group Tape released their first album Opera (literally “work” in Italian) to critical acclaim recently. “Work” is an apt title for this release, as the many meticulously assembled layers that make up the record attest to.
There are a few things that can be mentioned when discussing Opera that may inform readers of something other than its greatness as so-late-at-night-it-might-as-well-be-morning music. It isn’t anything “new” – it draws upon the rich history of many genres and techniques, from Pierre Schaeffer’s musique concrete, to the avant folk guitar of the American Primitives Basho and Fahey, to the “wind through the horn” sounds of improvisers Axel Doerner and Radu Malfatti, and maybe even the ghost of Hannah Hoch's narrative photo-montages. Tape does this, however, with a subtle and organic aesthetic, which is probably one reason why it works.
The acoustic guitar is the narrative thread throughout the album, grounding the electro-acoustic manipulations and field recordings that dart around it in a Fahey-esque (but softer and fluffier) mode, while also reminding one of the first Town and Country album. Despite the prevalence of a perceivable pulse throughout, Tape manages to obscure this pulse nicely, through a multitude of layers and labor-intensive mixing. The sound sources are all very warm and homey, and used sparingly (with the exception of the fifth piece, which is a bit of an oddball – it sounds vaguely like an early Aphex Twin ambient piece, due to a demanding bass vamp that continues throughout, albeit slightly morphed). If one wanted to be a cynical asshole, it could be said that Tape is plumbing the post-Tortoise, post-rock, nice-guys-make-nice-music well – and that may be true – but it is nice music.
Perhaps it is too nice and too precious, though as Opera really doesn’t have a bite – it’s the kind of record that you might well forget is on, and you might not remember you’d heard. For some people, though, that could be just right.

Clairement l'un des plus beaux disques de "musique française" -terme employé par Sylvain Chauveau lui-même- à être paru récemment, Nocturne Impalpable raconte le silence de la nuit, en ville.
Volontiers contemplative, simple et répétitive, la musique de Sylvain Chauveau déroule ses volutes mélancoliques et son piano minimal au gré de 19 compositions, reliées entre elle par le fil ténu d’une ville endormie et d’une nuit régnante. Nocturne urbain, mouvement qui clôt le disque, en est la focale. Le caractère légèrement narratif de l’ensemble est volontiers brisé par quelques écueils et bribes d’expérimentations sonores Cette succession de mouvements est hautement poétique, en raison notamment de la beauté de ses titres (Doucement le grain de sa peau, Arachnéenne encore, Je me suis bâti sur une colonne…). Elle possède également une cohérence toute cinématographique, comme une bande son oubliée d’un film de Bresson, rejouée à l’époque actuelle, comme le laissent entendre les scories électroniques de Ocre.
Le morceau suivant, avec son orgue hypnotique, nous plonge au delà de terres déjà reconnues par Labradford circa Mi Media Naranja. Ce morceau insuffle une profonde émotion humaine et organique à l’ensemble. Les samples que l’on retrouvait sur le premier album solo de Sylvain Chauveau, par ailleurs membre de Micro : Mega et d‘Arca, se sont quasiment tus, remplacés par un silence musical et une mélancolie encore plus vastes. Le Monde intérieur donne le ton de cet album, croisement de Satie et des Rachels dans une salle obscure. "Adieu vive clarté de nos étés trop courts/Demain nous plongerons dans les vastes ténèbres" écrivait Baudelaire. Ce disque constitue à coup sûr la musique de cette descente magnifique, avant de revoir cette vive clarté estivale.
Chronic'Art
It has become somewhat of a cliché to unearth the skeletons of Claude Debussy and Erik Satie when writing about any French composer who takes the path of quiet melancholia. Nevertheless, Sylvain Chauveau's Nocturne Impalpable does borrow a lot from La Mer and the composer of the Gnossiennes and Gymnopédies. The former's delicate touch permeates through the long chords of the string trio (two cellos and a viola) in "Radiophonie No. 1." The latter's sedated piano style is found everywhere on the album, and particularly in "Nocturne Urbain." The running order manages room to breathe in the form of six untitled tracks of field recordings and electronics -- promenades between stations of this night walk. Nocturne Impalpable may be pretty, even touching at times, but that doesn't make it striking.









