Martijn Tellinga aka BOCA RATON ist in Amsterdam mit Stichting Mixer selbst Herausgeber einer Split-Reihe. Kein Wunder daher, dass er nach seinem Kapotte Muziek by-Split mit Richard Chartier (-> BA46) nun neben Frans de Waard, der dabei seine FREIBAND-Maske aufgesetzt hat, mit Product (Crónica 019~2005) auf der fünften Ausgabe der Crónica-Splitreihe zu finden ist. Freibands Ästhetik bestand bisher darin, Beequeen’sche Gitarren-, Drums- & Orgelsound oder Popmusik der End-70er/Früh-80er bis zur Beinaheunkenntlichkeit zu verfremden und quasi davon nur den Hauch und synästhetischen Eindruck von ‘Pop’ oder ‘Wärme´ abzuschöpfen. De Waards Beitrag, ‘Replay’ basiert auf dem Material des Freiband-Debuts Microbes. In einer 11-teiligen Serie variiert er, live auf dem EARATIONAL 2004 in ‘s-Hertogenbosch, per Laptop die Körnung der Muster im Rahmen konsequenter Selbstähnlichkeit. Es is so eine ‘flache’, ambiente Mikroelektronik entstanden, sirrende, surrende Vibrationen, Repititionen knarrender Klangbänder, perkussiver Schläge, bebendes Geflatter, knisterndes Gebitzel in immer wiederkehrenden, sich leicht verschiebenden Schüben. De Waard bereitet zur Zeit für Crónica seine dritte Freiband-CD vor nach Microbes (Ritornell, 2001) und Homeward (Bottrop Boy, 2002). Sie soll den Titel ‘Leise’ tragen in anagrammatischer Anspielung auf seine Tochter Elise. Boca Raton verarbeitete, ebenfalls live auf dem EARATIONAL 2004, für ‘Crop.’ konkrete Geräusche und Klänge mit elektronischen Mitteln, in ‘s-Hertogenbosch quadrophonisch, hier kastriert zum Stereomix. Tellinga hebt dabei die Vorstellungen von ‘natürlich’ und ‘künstlich’ gegenseitig auf. Seine 8 ‘Circles’ spielen auf einer teils stark abstrahierten Ebene mit Texturen, Geräuschen, Zeitlöchern, dass selbst so Elementares wie Wind und Wasser zu Klangmolekülen zerstäubt werden, aber auch mit Vogelstimmen oder einem Klang, als ob man mit dem Schlauch eine Blechwanne ausspritzen würde.
“Product 05†reviewed by Igloo
Portugal’s Crónica once again must be acknowledged for keeping to task, and truly offering work that is challenging in the busted world of electronic music. Freiband (Frans de Waard) and Boca Raton (Martijn Tellinga) team up to release their split live recording from 04’s Earational Festival (the Netherlands). The jittery “Temptations” sways with a ridged and weighed crackle, something of a rocking ship on stormy seas complete with outdated floorboards. As the low rumble of droney hum beckons quietly into the distance a warning tone glides resonantly like a constant reminder, an alarm call. Throughout de Waard uses a low-grade vinyl hiss to play on the artist’s hand in the work, an organic earthy reminder that we all grew from an analogue world that was far less Technicolor just a few years ago. “Heaters” builds this up into a field of braided friction, as it warms up the room, literally. As the chugging motor of Boca Raton’s “Crop” (circles) begins there’s a bit of space, a breath, and some sense that activity like watching, searching and scraping is taking place. It’s an active piece that also blends lovely, yet sheer Asian tonalities that just glisten. It sounds like Tellinga has incorporated field recordings of blunt force winds, adding a natural percussive element here. As these circles evolve he adds tension with tiny gestural pieces that are a bit fidgety, and uncoordinated. These circles build like a forceful gas and wind down to a soft scratch like a rake on hardened, smooth surface. The sweet chirping of an arboretum bodes well for the sonic tones that just let go into the wilderness. It’s quite rapturous how he did that. 4 1/2
TJ Norris
“Product 05†reviewed by Noisy Neighbours
Freiband/Boca Raton stellt ein Split-Album mit Liveaufnahmen vom “Earational Festival for Electronic Music and Audio Art” dar. Freiband ist ein Projekt von Frans de Waard, der auch bei Kapotte Musiek, Beequeen und Goem aktiv ist/war. Soundadjektive zu “Replay”, so der Untertitel seines Beitrages, sind im Brainstorming: flirrend, insektenhaft, schwebend, schabends, knarzend und knisternd. Im Allgemeinen verliert man sich dabei mit leicht nvervösem Blick auf den Schwingen eines überdimensionalen Netzflüglers, in “Rocks” schwillt brutzelnd die Intensität an. Freiband beweisen ein gutes Gespür für freie Electrocsounds, die im Verlaufe des Klangexperiments nicht zum Selbszweck verkommen sondern immer wieder neue Hintertüren öffnen. Reizvoll eigen.
Boca Ratons “Crop” fordert den Hörer mit seinen sehr minimalistischen, geflüsterten Soundschleifen. Sehr frei und rein atmosphärisch. Field Recordings digitaler Welten. Ein subversives Ãœberwachungsschallexperiment. Ein Hörspiel zu falschfriedlichen abstrakten Welten, deren Geschichte je individuell geschrieben werden muss. Ein leiser elektronischer Eskapismus. Ansprechend, aber ganz klar nur für Freunde des klanglichen Experiments.
Anderart.
Christian Eder
“Product 05†reviewed by Touching Extremes
While it’s true that many concrete/electronic projects on the current scene sound more or less similar, some of them are made with a care for the detail which distances them from the crowd. Such is the case of this split CD: Freiband, one of the many names of Frans De Waard, produces music through the reworking of pre-recorded materials going into a process of hard disk scratching; just another glitch and noise release, right? Dead wrong: the sounds mostly manifest themselves in pretty tranquil spirals, their slowly mutating skin showing a mixture of static sweetness and menacing sub-distortion inviting not to lower your guard any moment. Boca Raton (Martijn Tellinga) works within the realms of pregnant austerity through acousmatic tracks mixing field recordings, white noise whirlwinds, small-sound activity à la Asmus Tietchens and more than one wink to silence itself. The sapient assembling and scarce processing of the source material adds a touch of spontaneous ingenuity that elevates this music from the cauldron of the “already heard”; it meshes fine with my own environment, too – and the last track “Circle ‘8” is a profound Ilios-like planetary vibration.
Massimo Ricci
“Product 05†reviewed by Areen, weekly Cultural Supplement of Eesti Ekspress.ee
Kaks eksperimentaalset laivi: Freiband (Frans de Waard, Beequeen, Goem jm) on oma laivi aluseks võtnud Ritornelli all ilmunud albumi “Microbes†helid: rütmilised sirinad, “poeetilised†naginad ja mürad. See album kõlas umbes nii, nagu oleks lehemardik (või pigem kilk) päriselt DATi kinni jäänud ja seal siristanud. Minu mäletamist mööda oli see aastal 2002 väga huvitav, ja eks vist nüüdki. Orgaaniline, ajuti peaaegu kuuldamatu ragin. Pikad, mühisevad vaikuseperioodid – plaat on glitch’i ja digitaalsete kiiruste pehme segu. Valmistamiseks kriimustas de Waard kõvaketta, millel oli uus Beequeen, pinda. Boca Ratoni muusika on rudimentaarne, moodustatud heliplokkidest, mis koosnevad peaaegu ainult tekstuurist ja aja möödumisest (umbes nagu akustiline Rothko, kui sellist nõmedat väljendit tohib kasutada). Vaheldusrikkus, ootamatus ja lihtsus. Midagi täiesti ennustamatut vastukaaluks Freibandi kompulsiivsusele.
Erkki Luuk
“Product 05†reviewed by Sands Zine
25 Marzo 2004; durante l’Earational festival, Freiband e Boca Raton, con delle macro/scrach dalla portata siderale, mista tra bronzo e ferro, re-attivarono i già caustici ma vergini lidi di Daseinverfehlung di Asmuns Tietchens. Cosa di quel dasein, tra sfalsamento e quote ondeggiate, sia (sopra)vissuto (o sotto)vissuto, a noi, affascinati uditori di colonie marziane e pose di glitch/aerobico non fu dato conoscerne. Si direbbe nulla perché la fonte sonora di Freiband è sempre stata il nulla, la macchina a contatto col niente. E quindi cosa si sente in questo bel dischetto? Materia carbonica deco-fibrata, pennellate di china secca per calchi concavi, inevitabili organigrammi infarciti di protoicone squamate, asciugate. Un micro/macro inumano, in cui la macchina vige come l’unica sua ascoltatrice: compone ed ascolta la sua litania di disfacimento, l’aneurisma sintomatico di una galassia irrisolta, snervata. Sono gli ultimi suoni prima di staccarsi dalla gravitazione. Raccontano l’oceano indecifrabile di un viaggio che pensa di rimanere nascosto alla terra.
Frans De Waard non sembra interessato alle grandi narrazioni. Aspetta capsule di mondovisione ed emozioni da ghiacciare per satelliti custodi di una rinascita umana. Il suono che ricompone lo trattiene dentro pezzi di vetro per i figli di un futuro sconfinamento tra macchina, macchinazione e consunzione. È un gioco che a lui piace; offre oramai, nell’epoca delle grandi sconfitte, solo ulteriori segni di rimesse, tocchi finali di vite marine. Boca Raton memorizza arredamenti di puntiformi circoli utopici e lascia le stelle dove sono perché adora gli spazi di vuoto tra mobili circolari e microbi perfettamente assassini. Convincono e non poco le sue tracce, convincono enormemente perché hanno qualcosa che s’addensa nel suono, che ci rimane attaccato dove lì, in Freiband pareva scollarsi sempre dalla materia. Boca Raton inneggia le voci del deserto e spodesta i suoni da giungla di Lopez nelle digitalizzazione malandata di un laptop colpito da una tempesta di germi. Il pezzo migliore è Circle ‘3: preliminari ad iniezione per un orgasmo irraggiungibile! Queste sono le macchine che disegnano il futuro. Queste sono le didascalie dei poeti del ‘300 quando cercavano Dio dentro porticati naufragati. Queste sono le inazioni della voce quando collassa al punto tale da farsi parlare senza più riverberazione se non immaginaria. Questo è l’immaginario dove stiamo vivendo e l’unico dubbio è comprendere quanto ve ne sia bisogno di vederlo raffigurato nuovamente se non a patto dell’Apocalisse. Non c’è stato mai un linguaggio.
Salvatore Borrelli
“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, vol.2: Ubiquitous Eternal Live†reviewed by Obradek
Autodigest machen es der hörerschaft nicht leicht, schnell-beschleunigte Tonsamples und Sprachaufnahmen sind lärmend übereinander geschichtet, um uns dann wieder abrupt in das digitale nichts zu schicken. Komprimierte Tonaufnahmen jeglicher Tonquelle bringen die freiheit des konsumrausches auf den punkt: warum sich mit weniger zufrieden geben als mit Autodigest ? CDs sind spottbillig und die gewinnspanne ist hoch, so veröffentlicht jeder und jede ihre akustischen erzeugnisse, meistens ohne sich die frage zu stellen ob dies jemand hören möchte oder nicht. Bescheiden sind die auflagen, meist limitierte stückzahlen von produkten von denen sowieso nicht mehr hätte verkauft werden können. Damit man doch dann alles hat und keine ängste aufkommen etwas verpasst zu haben empfehlen Autodigest kompressionen, natürlich im Chamber Mix oder live in Stockholm komponiert von jedermann.
“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, vol.2: Ubiquitous Eternal Live†reviewed by Wreck This Mess
Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap… L’ovni sonore de l’année ! Soit l’alignement ininterrompu, pendant une heure, d’applaudissements captés à la fin d’une multitude de spectacles. Un patchwork à mettre au compte d’Autodigest, un des projet les plus emblématique du “media-label” Crónica. Un mystérieux collectif (ou artiste solo) se faisant un malin plaisir de dynamiter le rapport à la musique selon une philosophie esthétique se réclamant autant de Baudrillard et David Harvey que de Debord… Après avoir donné le concert le plus court jamais enregistré (une demi-seconde, montre en main, à Porto en juin dernier !) puis avoir compressé un nombre hallucinant d’Å“uvres musicales sur un seul CD, formant ainsi une sorte d’apocalypse bruitiste, Autodigest s’attaque maintenant au coda ultime de toute oeuvre, son acclamation par un public fervent. Passé les premières minutes d’étonnement puis d’enthousiasme (comme le rire, ces ovations distillent une ferveur très communicative) et enfin de stupeur (mais qu’est que c’est que ce truc ?!), on fini par entendre autre chose ! Par percevoir des variations qui transforment ces standing-ovations en une étrange symphonie… Longtemps après, lorsque nous sommes définitivement immergés dans ce brouhaha, des ondulations se révèlent et ces clameurs finissent par ressembler un peu au bruit de la mer que l’on croit percevoir lorsque l’on se rive un coquillage sur l’oreille… Oeuvre conceptuelle par excellence, ce disque est vraiment un “objet” à part qui n’a d’égal que certaines productions des labels Foton et Firework Edition (Leif Elggren). Bravo, re-clap clap et fermez le banc !
Laurent Diouf
“Product 05†reviewed by GothTronic
This on the Portugese Cronica released CD holds the live recordings of Freiband and Boca Raton as recorded on the Earational Festival 2004 which took place in Den Bosch, Holland. Freiband starts off under the title Replay. To many of you a new name, but the man behind the project is no other then Frans de Waard, musically known from amongst others Kapotte Muziek and Beequeen, verbally active with the Vital Weekly and once the man behind Staalplaat. With this project an old chapter in the book of experimental music is rewritten. Where the original text was based on the tape-experiments of Asmus Tietchens is Freiband the digital entrepeneur of the genre. Next to that there are a lot of audible experiments with contactmics which on ocassion reminds you of the a live performance of Kapotte Muziek. The music reminds you of a mixture between glitch and noise, albeit in a subtle way. Every now and then ambient, minimal sculptures come forward and at other moments you can’t find the right slide on your eqalizer fast enough. The twelfth track on the CD is a 30 second silence which announces the Baco Raton performance. Boca Raton is Martijn Tellinga, an artist who works with synthetic as well as ‘real’ sounds and tries to find a balance between them. A mix where reality mirrors itself in to a synthetic truth. Whereas the performance from Freiband was nicely coherent, the one from Boca Raton is much more dynamic. Silent pieces are changed with somewhat more noisy compositions and the result is just a bit less structured and less thought-off. It’s not bad at all, but it leaves you longing for a studio album with a little more information then 10 (!) pages of pointer arrows. The performancetitle Crop and respective tracktitles Circle 1 to 8 don’t add anything.
Bauke
“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, vol.2: Ubiquitous Eternal Live†reviewed by Seattle Weekly
Why applaud? To make a noise, to show approval, because it’s part of the social contract of seeing a performance. (The Magnetic Fields’ Stephin Merritt, who has hearing problems, reportedly requests that his audience shows its appreciation by snapping fingers instead of clapping.) Applause is an artless noise; it reinforces the power relationship between the receptive mass slapping its palms together and the (relatively) focused expertise on the stage. It also can be a demand for a present everyone knows will be awarded, a way to call back a performer for the inevitable encore, the lagniappe without which we consider our experience incomplete.
If you want to hear applause for its own sake, there’s Autodigest’s A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 2: Ubiquitous Eternal Live (Ash International/Crónica). The back cover describes it as a “spontaneous, improvised, slow crescendo by every audience ever.” It is exactly an hour of applause, bookended by a commanding voice twice announcing, “Thank you! Good night!” It’s not just the kind of ooh-that’s-good applause heard on Burma’s live albums; it’s riotous, maniacal, progressively louder and more rapturous clapping and cheering from an audience that demands more. Shrieks leap out of it like dolphins. As the shouting and clapping redoubles and layers over itself, faint patterns emerge. They become overtones, notes, even faint tunelets. The applause can become the featured attraction, and does to anyone who buys or hears the album. It can go on forever. “Best played in ‘Repeat’ mode,” a note says.
There’s one other brilliant joke on Ubiquitous Eternal Live: When you put the CD in a computer, it identifies itself as “I am sitting in a room.” That’s the title of a 1966 piece by composer Alvin Lucier, in which he recorded himself reading a short text about what he was doing (and stuttering a bit), then played it back in the room where he’d recorded it and recorded that, and repeated the process until the decay of the source material and the room’s resonant frequencies had together evolved into a single faintly fluctuating tone that sounds like the overtones of the applause. (Mission of Burma’s Miller actually did something conceptually similar on his 1990 album Oh (guitars, etc . . . ): “F.W.R.,” short for “The Fun World Reductions,” is a series of playbacks of Burma’s recording “Fun World,” doubling the speed each time, until it’s no more than a quarter-second burst of trebly static.)
On the front cover of Ubiquitous Eternal Live, there’s a picture of an empty bed being hit by morning sunlight; the audience is still out clapping, or maybe we’re the audience. Behind the disc itself, there are two X-rays of hands. An audience’s unsated desire for more can make them slam together hard, hundreds of times. What will it do to those bones?
Douglas Wolk