The man has many releases to his name, and it is tough to put his music into one particular genre. There are times when I would have said that his music fits the world of ambient music, with a penchant for the lo-fo approach, but this work is something different altogether. There is no evidence of it, not on the cover of the information, but it sounds as if Duplant conducts a small ensemble. There seem to be wind and string instruments. There might also be some electronics. They are all used to playing some heavily controlled music, which has a very modern classical feel. Maybe Duplant played all of these instruments himself? Maybe this is all from an orchestral sample pack? I really have no idea. The title translates as ‘dark mirrors’, and Duplant says about the album, “a polished and reflective surface gives us the stable and sincere image of a subject. The subject here is the world today, both planet, nature, humanity, civilizations, individuals and possibly, probably the one of tomorrow, dark in my eyes & embittered in my heart”. That may explain some of the grim characters of the music. With everything under control, there is also a lot of tension buried in the music. Perhaps that is how Duplant sees the world? Dark and on the surface civilized, but beneath the pavement, there is unrest. I have no idea if that is the idea behind this orchestral suite that comes in two parts of exactly twenty-one minutes. While I may not be the biggest fan of contemporary classical music, I found this a pretty exciting release. Maybe because it raised many questions while sounding beautifully dark and ominous. (FdW)
Le nouvel album de Morten Riis s’apparente à une oeuvre fantôme, objet sonore construit autour de sensations auditives et de variations émotionnelles échappées d’un au-delà déconstruit, traversé de granit éclaté et de poussière concentrée.
Lad enhver lyd minde os om flotte au dessus de surfaces disloquées prêtes à s’évaporer, formes chancelantes à l’abstraction corrosive.
Morten Riis travaille la matière avec minutie, plongeant l’auditeur dans un oeil du cyclone aux courants regroupés sur eux-mêmes, vestiges de narrations passées et de lambeaux d’humanité dérivant dans un trou noir à la puissance ambient extatique. Absorbant. Roland Torres
Der in Dänemark lebende und als Klangkünstler, Komponist und Wissenschaftler tätige Morten Riis bringt sein erstes Solo-Release seit 2009 heraus. “Lad enhver lyd minde os om” wurde auf selbstgebauten Synthies produziert und mit modifizierten 4-Spur-Rekordern aufgenommen. Es erscheint digital und – mit Bonusmaterial – auf Tape bei Crónica, das Artwork basiert auf der Fotografie “Interior #12″ (2010) von Trine Søndergaard mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Künstlerin und der Martin Asbæk Gallery.
“Lad enhver lyd minde os om (Let every sound reminds us of) wreathes around our conceptions regarding a sense of togetherness, perishability, the inherent sensuousness of objects and potential poetic statements coupled with humans’ belief that through language and representation we can control everything around us. The album is composed on homemade synthesisers and modified 4-track cassette recorders, thus creating a music-technological poetic that underlines the specificity of media and the human-object participatory democracy that creates what we normally conceptualise as an artistic expression. It is a slow process in which several melodic elements are layered to create an expression in which the individual voices vanish in myriads of noise and textures. Behind the often-chaotic roaring sea of tape mediation, melodic structures emerge, like sunken forgotten memories in our minds.”
L’artiste sonore et compositeur lithuanien Gintas K sort, seize ans après son premier disque chez Crónica, l’excellent label portugais consacré aux musiques électroniques et expérimentales, Lèti, « Lent » en lithuanien. Onze titres de musique électronique à la fine granulation : regardez bien la pochette !
Clochettes, touches de synthétiseur : un clapotis, un tintinnabulement enchanteur, c’est “Bells”, surprenante vignette pastorale qui s’enfonce dans la touffeur des herbes électroniques. Vous y êtes ! Et ce n’est pas une “Hallucination” (second titre) désagréable. La musique gonfle, fait des bulles, danse imperceptiblement. De la musique pour des toiles d’Yves Tanguy. De petites toiles arachnéennes. Ce qui n’empêche pas l’envol de “Various”, synthétiseurs grondants et dramatiques, toute une cavalerie grandiose jamais pesante en effet, du Tim Hecker micro-dentelé, avec une belle stase onirique à la respiration sous-marine. Superbe travail !
Avec “Variation”, la musique devient borborygmes, boursouflures minuscules du matériau sonore : surgit un monde étrange près de s’engloutir. “Atmosphere” est au contraire saturé, débordant d’événements sonores qui se ralentissent, s’étalent autour de virgules ironiques sur fond de drones poussiéreux. Pas le meilleur titre, selon moi, ventre mou de l’album. Je préfère “Savage”, granuleux en diable, crapaud sonore pataugeant dans une bouillasse électronique vaguement monstrueuse, dont émerge une poussée formidable, pustuleuse de bruissements métalliques serrés, qui retourne à la vase lourde. “Guitar” ? Souvenir énigmatique d’un instrument fantôme, réduit à des griffures courtes, espacées, accompagnées de gribouillis balbutiés !
L’un des meilleurs titres de l’album, le miraculeux “Nice Pomp”, est d’une délicatesse confondante, ce qui n’exclut pas une belle force. Le foisonnement électronique est travaillé en couches à multiples facettes qui s’estompent avant un finale hoquetant. “Query”, à l’énigmatique beauté transparente, se charge peu à peu de poussées cascadantes d’orgue avant de retourner à un calme bucolique parsemée de fleurettes sonnantes : Gintas K est le maître de ces petites pièces précieuses ! L’avant-dernier titre, “Ambient”, s’inscrit parfaitement dans cette esthétique raffinée. Il associe jeux d’eau et nappes synthétiques légères, créant une sorte de jardin japonais sonore, apaisant et nimbé de mystère grâce à son chemin de drones amortis.
Le “Bonus Sound” conclut ce parcours par un hymne ambiant somptueux, feuilleté de frémissements, à la magnifique granulation électronique.
Indéniablement un grand disque, subtilement ciselé !
Med kun synths og kassettebåndoptagere har Morten Riis skabt et album, der med sine selvpålagte begrænsninger opnår en fascinerende dybde. Et album, der med meget få virkemidler siger virkelig lidt og på samme tid virkelig meget.
Små musikalske bidder driver ind og ud af det hørbare felt. Ringer ind, brummer, hviner, hvisler og ringer ud igen. For det meste støt op og ned som et åndedræt, med lejlighedsvise bratte ophold. Mere eller mindre påvirket af kassetteformatets inhærente båndstøj. Selv de mest tyste øjeblikke er underlagt denne summen. Jeg elsker den tilstedelighed, det afføder. Teksturerne er nærmest fysiske.
Albummet har en meget åben lyd. Den er minimalistisk, sommetider smuk. Men oftest er den der bare. Gør ikke megen væsen af sig på en utroligt tiltalende facon. Det ene øjeblik lyder det meget jordnært, det næste – sakralt. Riis leger med tyngde og lethed, og tyngdens lethed og lethedens tyngde på en måde, der synes at ophæve alle gængse relationer mellem dem. Som for eksempel nummeret »den støjende sol«, der i realiteten ikke spiller meget højere end resten af musikken, rent decibelmæssigt, men alligevel brager gennem højttalerne på hidtil uhørt maner.
Det er betagende, hvor rigt, dybt og bevægende et stykke musik, Riis har sammensat af så undseelige elementer. Hans stille støj er tavs som en skygge i hjørnet af et rum – og kraftfuld som skyggens skaber og ødelægger. Kristoffer Møllegaard
David Lee Myers, the composer of Reduced To A Geometrical Point, is quick to point out that he is not really a fan of “music for meditation”, although he has noticed that some audio constructions seem to encourage a position of staying in the moment. It is the simple truth of being “reduced to a geometric point in front of God”, a quote that harks back to the ideas of Frithjof Schuon, who in turn does not refer to a particular Judeo-Christian vision of a supreme being, but rather to any creative force of the universe, energy – in another word – which must necessarily exist. The sound and visual artist, resident in New York for many years, presents four pieces here, ranging in length from 12 to 18 minutes. He is an experienced experimentalist, with more than thirty releases to his name for labels such as Crónica, Starkland, Generator, ReR, Line, Silent, Pogus, RRRecords and Staalplaat, to name but a few. The overall effect of Myers’ hypnotic plots hark back to the tradition of North American repetitive minimalism, to that search for a pure sound that does not include a “before” and an “after” and that shuns overly rigid musical structures. The author thus clearly focuses on the “here and now”, on the simple event modelled in execution, on the essential vibrations and frequencies which, even if grandiose in some passages, never give the feeling of searching for deliberate elegiac models. It is a mass of sounds that moves slowly and the references to non-Western music are unavoidable, as in “GEO 1 Laurentia”, a special undulating and hoarse rāga, or in “GEO 2 Pannotia”, a spiritual track that seems to loop on itself. “GEO 3 Gondwana” is the darkest, most astral and at the same time most introverted track, before ending with “GEO 4 Pangaea”, again in the apotheosis of feedback, oscillator sets and multiprocessing. David Lee Myers once worked under the name Arcane Device and played as a guitarist in a rock band in the sixties. Later he was fascinated by feedback techniques, Frippertronics and the ambient music of Brian Eno. Here its application has reached an extreme rarefaction, marrying elegant minimalism with a contemplative approach. Aurelio Cianciotta
The first solo release by Morten Riis since 2009 presents his newest endeavours into the broken worn-out world of cassette tapes and modified tape players. Lad enhver lyd minde os om [Let every sound reminds us of] wreathes around our conceptions regarding a sense of togetherness, perishability, the inherent sensuousness of objects and potential poetic statements coupled with humans’ belief that through language and representation we can control everything around us. The album is composed on homemade synthesisers and modified 4-track cassette recorders, thus creating a music-technological poetic that underlines the specificity of media and the human-object participatory democracy that creates what we normally conceptualise as an artistic expression. It is a slow process in which several melodic elements are layered to create an expression in which the individual voices vanish in myriads of noise and textures. Behind the often-chaotic roaring sea of tape mediation, melodic structures emerge, like sunken forgotten memories in our minds.
The full-length cassette release is accompanied by Lad den samme lyd minde os om [Let the same sound reminds us of], 25 loop unique cassette tapes handcrafted by Morten Riis and containing the original source material for the compositions.
Øyvind Brandtsegg søler på kjøkkenet. Han tar mjøl, krydder og en del andre kjøkkenprodukter, drysser dem utover en glassplate og setter på strøm. Slikt blir det bråk av.
Brandtsegg er professor i musikkteknologi ved NTNU og en nestor i den punkete DIY-glade musikk-avantgarden i Trondheim. Han spiller på «instrumentet» sitt med å bikke fatet i ulike retninger og putte kabelkledde fingre i blandingen. Alt dette påvirker vibrasjonene og feedbacken, som sendes inn i Brandtseggs selvlagde lydmixmastere. «Ingen adaptive filtre», forsikrer han i presseskrivet, uten at jeg er helt sikker på hva det betyr. Det minner litt om «ingen kunstige tilsetningsstoffer». Det er sikkert andre ting jeg har misforstått også. Men jeg lytter.
Og det jeg hører er hylende atmosfæriske lydflater som endrer seg seigt og gradvis etter hvert som kanel og bakepulver blandes. Lydene han lager er nesten taktile, og oser av en slags fysisk energi.
Stykkene har ganske enkle forløp. Det er sjelden vi hører flere lydstrømmer samtidig, med unntak av et av sporene hvor det blandes inn tale og tekst (som for øvrig blir et litt rart stilbrudd). Formmessig er de dessuten ganske løse. Dette er kanskje den minst stringente av platene i Ballade klassisk denne gangen.
Men Brandtsegg har en dansende eleganse. Alt bråket høres levende og poetisk ut. Ola Nordal
«Persistent Disequilibrium» is a new sound art project of Norwegian experimental composer-scholar-educator Øyvind Brandtsegg. Brandtsegg devised a set of new musical instruments where finger-mounted piezo contact pickups are used with transducers on vibrating plate-like objects (metals, plastics, wood, ceramics, concrete, glass, bioplastics and even human bones in a living body) to explore intimate resonances by touch. The performer’s finger acts as a filter in the feedback circuit, and variations in performative gestures (pressure, angle, touching with the nail or the flesh) bring out different potential resonances of the objects.
These instruments create a chain reaction of deep, low-frequency feedback loops when the sonic vibrations pass through the plate-like objects and allow Brandtsegg to investigate these vibrations. The basic feedback mechanism was kept simple and often Brandtsegg’s voice was added into the feedback loop to create further diversions of textural resonances. This sound-making process offers a new method of embodied sound production and allows close performative control over the expressive nuances of the performative environment.
Brandtsegg recorded a set of seven haunting and quite unsettling drones at the NTNU Music Tech in Trondheim, where he is a professor of music technology. He was assisted by the «external ear» of Maja S.K. Ratkje, and discovered weird and detailed sonic universes within the vibrating chain of feedback, some are even suggesting friendly rhythmic alien transmissions and twisted yet subtle melodic veins, and the last one «Moebius Guessthetics» offers a deep and peaceful meditative mode.
«Persistent Disequilibrium» offers an enigmatic and immersive listening experience. Eyal Hareuveni
Having seen various videos of Gintas K’s improvisations, involving a keyboard and a dusty old Lenovo ThinkPad running some custom software, it’s apparent that his approach to composition is nothing if not unusual, and it’s matched by the results.
His Crónica debut, Lengvai / 60 x one minute audio colours of 2kHz sound was sixteen years ago, and his return to the label is a very different offering, although as has been a common factor throughout his career, Lėti – Lithuanian for slow – consists of comparatively short pieces – and here, the majority are four minutes long or less. Less is more, and what’s more, Gintas K invariably manages to pack more into a couple of minutes than many artists do in half an hour. Here, we have a set of eleven short pieces ‘created from recording and improvising in studio followed by extensive mixing and editing using software.’ There’s no more detail than that: some artists accompany their releases with essays explaining the creative process and the algorithms of the software and so on, but Gintas K simply leaves the music for the listener to engage with and to ponder.
Where Lėti is something of a departure is in the emphasis on the editing and mixing of the material and the fact that, as the title suggests, the arrangements are a little more sedate. The signature crackles and pops, chines and static are all present and correct, but there’s a sense of deliberation as we’re led through ethereal planes of delicate chimes and tinkling tones that resonate and hang in the air, drifting in open expanses, with time and space to reverberate and slowly decay. With this more measured feel, melodies become more apparent, with simple motifs, repeated, giving ‘Hallucination’ a sense of structure and, I suppose you might actually say ‘tune’.
It isn’t that Gintas’ works lack tunefulness as such, but that any tune is surrounded by froth and extranea, and so much is going on it’s often hard to miss. Listening to Lėti is a fairly calm, even soothing experience, at least for the most part, conjuring a mood of reflection, of contemplation. The album’s longest piece, the seven-minute ‘Various’ brings a dense wave of sound that surges and swells slowly like a turning tide. There’s almost a stately grandeur to it, but then, there’s a rattling kind of a buzz that’s something of a distraction, and a glitch that nags away and seems to accelerate. These little headfucks are quintessential Gintas K, and Lėtiisn’t all soft and sweet: ‘Savage’ brings thick, fuzzing distortion and discomfort.
The flurries of sound, the babble of bubbling bleeps and bloops that are his standard fare are slowed to sparse, irregular drips in a cave on ‘Variation’, and the application of reverb is impressively nuanced, to the point that the reverbs almost become music in their own right. ‘Atmosphere’ and ‘Ambient’ are appropriately titled, while ‘Nice Pomp’ would comfortably serve as a soundtrack to a slow-motion film of a moon landing or somesuch, and again none of the pieces are without depth or detail, as the layers and slivers of sound that intersect create so much more than mere surface.
Lėti is a genuinely pleasant and pleasurable listening experience, but is most certainly isn’t straightforward or simple in what it delivers. There are many sonic nuggets to unearth, and so many tones and textures along the way, that what is, superficially ‘less’ is, in actual fact, a whole lot more. Christopher Nosnibor
