Much music prods at the spirit of the child, that fatuous pendant, which has since been mired in so many petty proclivities. Taking root in young Elise’s pussyfooting around with sheets of metal, paper, sticks, plastic and other musical and nonmusical instruments, one might be quick to lump this work in with all the others who profess a penchant for all matters Arcadian and puerile. Frans de Waard employs a quietly skewed approach to his daughter’s raw source sounds, though. The ensuing works do not deal in binaries, they are not charted against a child/adult axis. In rather subtle fashion, they spin delicate webs of glissandi, shadowy half-melodies, and doodling percussion. A music of different connections, of polyvalent elements, then. And not a moment too soon—Leise charms for its consistent ability to allow a digital glint to penetrate and shiver through Elise’s warm, clattery textures like a brisk wind through the trees. The euphoria of children at play is her, but focused, done up by Waard’s make-up kit, rendered scarcely recognizable and, at times, something else altogether. Only when the so-called real childishness shows through does the album stumble, but these moments are few and far between. “Paarden†is a chorus of shimmering electrons that are simultaneously elegant and studious while the sonorous frequencies of “Vuur†dwell within a tangled network of hissing and undergo a series of undulating phase shifts. Other tracks nurse granular drones and distant metallic clangs; while yet others border on being downright flinty. Composed of a fractured loop and thumbnail digital scratches, “Daisee†opens up into a dense wall of vapor that is decidedly neutral and calming. Singing “toot toot†on the final track of this work, Elise’s voice bookends an album which is many things in-between.
Max Schaefer