"An arbitrary succession of more or less irritating sounds"
Showing posts with label Simon Whetham. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Simon Whetham. Show all posts

Saturday, 12 January 2013

Line In

























2013 transmissions from Basinski + Chartier, AGF, and Simon Whetham notwithstanding, still being received here are four Line Ins from 2012. Lest its late-period labours at the interface between digital minimalism and microsound go unsung, here’s an ear-pique at a spread of chewy offerings from this once Difficult Twin of LMYE label of 2012, 12k (now, of course, non-aligned, under sole stewardship of Richard Chartier) that further cement its place in the vanguard of experimental electronics.

 















 







Built Through finds Line manager Chartier once more ‘exploring inter-relationships between the spatial nature of sound, silence, focus, perception and the act of listening itself’ with trademark microsonic prowess. He ideates an engrossing enquiry into acoustic architecture with more feet-in-the-soil sonician, Robert Curgenven, dealer in immersive resonances via turntables and custom-made vinyl, instrumental harmonics and guitar feedback, and field recordings from remote areas. Built Through’s four pieces find Chartier’s ideology of relationism between sound, silence, focus and the listening act fully realized with Curgenven’s collusion,variously fusing digital and organic. All very academic and process music pukka, to be sure, but does it butter the listening product parsnips? As if in reply, the kat booms: ‘Their sounds are of an incredibly fine calibre and arranged with such a sense of unfolding, albeit abstract, narrative, that we’re sucked in to near-extreme levels of concentration to focus on the slightest fluctuation, and sent reeling by the presence of such overpoweringly physical bass frequencies.’



























Previously on Line, there was Curgenven’s Oltre on which ‘his orchestrations of slight textural shifts, the interplay between hum and drone, found sounds and vinyl crackle effect a satisfyingly uneasy suspension between rapt contemplative and grim angst-ridden.’





The Subharchord, a rare electronic instrument built in a limited edition during the 1960s at the RFZ, the technical centre for radio and TV of the East German postal service, is the obscure object of Frank Bretschneider’s desire on Kippschwingungen. His aim, in line with contemporary electronic music’s current fixation with its pioneering history, is to harness the technology of Then to the music and production methods of Now. It pares things back to basics - one sonic generator and a reduced range of functions. The album deals largely in droning pitches and ring modulator-type sustains, interspersed between rhythm-driven pieces. A sound, in fact, not entirely unfamiliar from a recent release…



… though Kippschwingungen (= ‘tilting oscillations’) ends up quite differently configured from Bretschneider’s recent signature style, whether the tech-gnosis of Komet or the bass-space-funk of Rhythm. A Mancy enthusiast finds it: ‘A long alluringly austere continuum of sound unfolding into astringent spaces - eerie alien plateaus of tone give way to insectile sounds evoking all kinds of minimal rhythm explorations’ and ‘A wormholing 37-minute experience, deftly and intently exploring the machine’s limitations to discover mind-warping cosmic turbulence and penetrate extraordinary, otherworldly sonic dimensions whilst somehow sustaining a tangible narrative arc.’




















 






Those who thrilled to LMYE 2011 pick, The Peregrine, will find in Lawrence English’s For / Not For John Cage a less effusive but no less engrossing work. Cage’s centenary inspired what was conceived as homage to a man who has been a constant touchstone for English; he sought something that offered an openness, that might invite a new perspective of exploration of Cage’s ideas, alighting upon a less celebrated piece - the film for solo light performer, One11.



With video artist Scott Morrison they developed a new piece, One11 (refocused), devised from diverse esoteric Cageisms. The audio outcomes are immediately compelling - soft-edged slightly eerie whorls in slow-mo whirls, shapes with form dissolving, colours collapsing, ravaged by radical reverb - indeterminacy drawing tones from consonance to dissonance and back again, in its shape-shifting blurscapes. ‘It is almost as if themes of music and texture have been extracted from various sections of this original work and gone on to become or inform a much more cosmic and arguably contemporary counterpart,’ projects Fluid Radio, before pertinently observing ‘there is no real extreme positive or negative effect to any of the tracks, the otherworldliness is instead at the forefront and thrusts the listener into a strange, exotic mental space where such psychological concerns are skewed and thrown into a rather more mysterious abstract.’



























Returning to source, Chartier’s Recurrence is a re-imagining of inaugural Line release, Series, which, after its coming out in 2001, apparently remained unperformed, even “unperformable” due to noise and audio system limitations of live environments. More recently a revisiting was finally essayed - to impressive effect, as heard on “Recurrence (room/crosstones),” an exploration of wavering sinetones captured from (one assumes) room reverberations; essentially a slow-mutating tonal throb, it has echoes of his Transparency (Performance), though a more assertive than customary demeanour yields an unusual hybrid reference point: ‘the kind of low-end destruction you’d more likely expect to hear from doom pioneers, Sunn o))), but with the meditative edge of Steve Roach.’ 



‘If Transparency was a spotless white laboratory room, Recurrence is a swamp of thick vibration, deliberately swirling crumples of static in with the whines and beeps of the foreground’ is this writer’s analogy, further extended to ‘throbbing gently like a power generator or chirping like electronic crickets, or stuttering between tone and static like a radio transmission falling away from clear signal.’





Important: LMYE only makes music available that artists/labels have chosen to share freely. Let us know if something here shouldn't be.

Sunday, 1 May 2011

Fields of Dream


Wandering and wondering in fields recorded by SiRiDisc’s field workers. David Wells’s imprint is a relatively new name in the er… field, recently reeling out a suggestive series of releases from a roster of field recording fiends, including Juan Jose Calarco, Simon Whetham, Christopher McFall, James McDougall, and David VĂ©lez.



All releases are similarly flatly packaged - on plain white textured card stock, with only artist, title, and size of typewriter-like font distinguishing one release from the other, plastic envelope needing to be peeled to reveal.



Not that Wells himself is new (first heard round here with Paul Bradley on this little number), but he’d been AWOL a while till this rather lovely little piece of droneiness plopped onto my pile, serving notice of SiriDisc - read about Rojo more here, it's to five newer works we now look.



Foce (=‘estuary’ It.) finds the euphony of Wells’ Scots swells deserted for more dissonant sculpting in an exchange with Buenos Aires bruitist, Juan Jose Calarco, who gives us a noisy kick-start of glitch-like hiss-stutter that paves the way for roiling drones drawn from fiddled-with field findings. Calarco hosts a harsh clattering of what sounds like instruments scattered through these fields - atonal flurries that set them in a more musicized frame. Wells’ approach is to retain the original sonorities of his in a collage-like approach, while Calarco’s captures less recognizable due to processing. The two are kindred sonic spirits, though individually voiced, differently documenting water flow, from droplets to torrents. A bonus ‘mix’ by Simon Whetham, another inveterate field worker, is nicely perched in between, with percussive metal rumblings whose accidental tonalities endow it with some pitched intrigue.









Calarco evidently likes company. Already a fellow-traveller with Ubeboet and Nicolas Szczepanik, his foil here on Reduced Spaces is James McDougall. Once known as Entia Non, with a number of releases on labels like U-cover, test tube, and Resting Bell (see, e.g., Sub Routine, reviewed here), this Aussie collage-boy is now plain James McDougall, and the twosome’s Reduced Spaces comprise one each of their own plus a collaboration. An ambient mailing list-mate observes: “Each track has an awful, pretentious title obfuscating the elegant simplicity of the sounds they have plucked from the air and indoor and outdoor spaces of their respective urban settings. The duo effect seamless transitions from constructions site pile-drivers to a nestlings feebly chirping for food, from swinging high off the tops of towers to digging through the soil like an earthworm.”



More McDougall can be hunted down by the net-savvy, including such as Distal, about which Test Tube writes: “James McDougall a.k.a. Entia Non possesses the rare talent of putting together seemingly ordinary field recordings in a way that they sound to always have belonged together. […] James manipulates found sounds using ambient electronica techniques, tape reels and vinyl records into the most beautiful soundscapes you'll be able to hear.”; and, with Tanner Menard, I Never Expected Your Decays, courtesy of the lovely Rural Colours, on which “James received Tanner’s piano melodies and combined various additional layers of processed sounds and textural field recordings.”





A theme of discord is seemingly behind Christopher McFall’s eerie An Eris 23 (Eris being the Greek goddess of strife), though you wouldn’t know it, for it’s not a notably discordant addition to McFall’s often atonal repertoire. Quite the contrary, as he augments his customary fuzzy field fare with warped piano and broken turntable loops. The first piece, unusually musically consonant, has rippling piano tones looping a felicitously warped chord progression - a piano that’s revenant, appearing later to haunt, set against a more familiar McFall backdrop, drawn from his greyscale palette – nocturnal hum, low-end micro-events. An Eris 23 seems more evacuated than usual, the integration of instrument sounds and a more subtle approach to processing resulting in a work that departs from the general tenor of his catalogue – a forbiddingly ample one, but listen/read here, and try these for free: Greyscale is Failing, A Long Time Running for The Suicide Strays).





SiRiDisc’s first full-length CD is Simon Whetham’s Slopt, based on recordings made in Edinburgh in 2008. Some background on fellow-Bristol-dweller, Simon: “With an extensive CV that betrays years of perceptive sound auscultation, Whetham's been surveying various fields with his questing mike for some years, the fruits of which have issued in specific sound installations, sundry exhibitions, workshops (e.g. in the Amazon under Francisco LĂłpez's patronage), and releases on entr'acte, Con-v, Lens, Gruenrekorder, and Trente Oiseaux.” His Mystery Sea release memorably used the sounds of a nearby swing bridge, documented here.

'beneath the swinging bridge' excerpt by simonwhetham

As for Slopt, SiriDisc has it that “The sounds captured the character of the city - the narrow alleyways, the steep sloping streets, the tall buildings, the many levels of the city. However, these sounds were left untouched for almost two years, until Simon was once again invited to perform in Edinburgh, this time at the Dialogues Festival. Revisiting the material Simon discovered many more musical elements, which he used as the basis of the piece for the performance. On returning home he continued to reconfigure the composition, that had become a piece of four distinct parts, all reflecting characteristics of Edinburgh and his experiences of the city.” Slopt compiles the reworked sounds, the long form sustaining sounds of the likes of “Precipitous” working especially well. Less felicitous to these ears are “Acclivity,” on which street soundings are left to sound au naturel, and on “Level,” which seemingly captures a church organist rehearsing. “Declivity,” though, clinches it with a large multi-layered drone-scape of brooding pitchshifted tonemass.







Colombian soundsmith David VĂ©lez, naturally, preoccupies himself with that obscure object of every sonographer’s desire, field recordings, dealing with textures, landscapes and objects. He has a bunch of previous – such as 20:51 and Impulsive Habitat on Test Tube, VacĂ­o RetĂłrico on Audio Gourmet, and Funza on Impulsive Habitat; for a fuller overview, go here).





His SiriDisc release Vestigios de Nada chronicles the erosion of memory by time, parallelled by that of the river banks by the water that flows through a national park in his native Bogotá. The field recordings were captured in the Parque Ambiental Embalse del Neusa, about which VĂ©lez sez: “The national park itself is a gigantic forest with a river running through that ends on a beautiful lake surrounded by the forest's gigantic trees. This is a very special place for me as I used to go there a lot when I was a kid with my family and this was the first time I had visited since then. Vestigios de nada (Remains of nothing) deals with the constant dematerialization of the present time and the remains that are left over from this process.”






This Wire primer, and particularly this follow-up are excellent explorations of field recording in contemporary music. For more critical reflections on field recordings and their deployment in sound art, see Toshiya Tsunoda in this thinkpiece.

In the meantime for those wanting to follow through with the SiriDisc crew, there’s plenty more stuff from Messrs McDougall, McFall and Whetham on soundcloud:

alm 67 - james mcdougall - while the world sleeps (extract) by taalem

Christopher McFall - Crooked Site Winding by Resting Bell

In The Bleak Wilderness Of Sleep (Album Sampler Mix) by Audio Gourmet Netlabel

native from a.f.cortés on Vimeo.



turbulence from a.f.cortés on Vimeo.



Important: LMYE only makes music available that artists/labels have chosen to share freely. Let us know if something here shouldn't be.
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