“The Waste Land” reviewed by Words & Guitars


An intriguing download and limited edition cassette release from a new Portuguese label Crónica, documenting the work of researcher and artist Luca Forcucci. Forcucci’s website cites his intellectual debt to Pauline Oliveros’ concept of ‘deep listening’: the ability to appreciate and perceive an environment then offer a sonic (or other) response. The results in this case are a testament to what can be wrought from this approach and will jolt the heart of anyone who appreciates dark ambient, Ben Frost’s more raw output, industrial’s less beat-driven sonic explorers, or horror soundtracks.

There are three decisively different experiences here. The title track is a glowering abyss in which metal shears, shimmers and tingles while more granular sensations split the surrounding vacuum. There’s not necessarily a visible progression, it’s more an evolving storyline rather than a cyclical experience. It developed from Forcucci being provided with an anonymous six minute sound recording and an invitation to create a soundtrack to an (unnamed) documentary. Whatever those original pieces consisted of, Forcucci’s response sounds akin to being on the launch pad under a NASA rocket: a cascade of sparking violence.

‘Voices From The Coal Mine’ involved sounds being projected into the power plant of an abandoned coal mine – a space that responds with a breadth of resonances and sudden shocks. It’s a well-chosen location laced with ideas of human use and abandonment, of less than sympathetic interaction between man and earth. The twittering of birds re-inhabiting our leftovers occasionally enters around the percussive core.

‘My Extra Personal Space’, uses the results of walking in both urban environments and the countryside to layer up an intriguing composition in which removing the divide between each space creates a disturbing whole. It’s a walk in the uncanny, the places that are not quite one nor the other. The crack of pebbles underfoot, the chatter of gulls – pressed tight against a bell chiming as if for invasion; the creak and grind of road traffic; the Paris metro. It’s a constant hubbub undercutting the imagined idea of countryside in which nature quietly wheels in peaceable patterns and man is becalmed. At one point a gull comes so close it sounds like an assault, a forlorn fight back against this encroachment. Nick Soulsby

via Words & Guitars

“Digital Junkies in Strange Times” reviewed by Chain DLK


Delving deep into the laptop, “Digital Junkies In Strange Times” is a genre-ignoring collection of electronic ambiences that draws ethereal samples shamelessly from any source that appeals. Most prominently this is R&B acapellas (some re-recorded presumably for legal reasons), processed to drift in out of our consciousness like a distant radio broadcast, but other found sounds are thrown in too. Under this, the core of this album is a gentle electronic soundscape which is soft yet glitchy.

“Turbulent Sphere”, at 13 minutes, is a relatively steady piece with a digital heartbeat. Processed bell sounds and warm chords ebb above. The beginning and end of the piece are weirder than the middle; twisted attempts at key changes towards the end sound playful or positively tongue-in-cheek at parts.

At only a minute and a half long, “Acousmatis” is a wonky processed acoustic guitar loop that seems to be present for two reasons, firstly because it’s a little silly, secondly to increase the track count. The other short track “Teen Haze” is more worthwhile, an almost radio-edit-y bit of anti-pop instrumental with deep flangey bass notes and a lightweight, crisp laptop-hip-hop beat, degenerating into metallic creaks as it develops.

The main meal of the release is the 41-minute “Moonlight Compilations”, which walks a fine line between being a single electronic work and a mix album. There are some steady tempos and recurring elements throughout. Sometimes there’s several layers in play, sometimes there’s a pure single element standing alone. At points it drops to nothing more than distant birdsong, reminiscent of The KLF’s “Chill Out”, with which it shares a sense of live, improvised fader-riding. At other points, it’s a heavier electronic throb, with a womb-like ambience, sometimes pale hisses and windy tones. The on-and-off languid female vocals are a little Leftfield-y. It evolves slowly and it’s generally melancholic, but the electronic pulses are prominent enough that you’re rarely allowed to proper relax in listening to it. Though it’s never out-and-out silly, things do get more wig-out at the end with the brass sounds of some bizarre Latin-sounding TV theme and some random plucked harpsichord notes.

Arguably “Moonlight Compilations” is a little self-indulgent and is a little longer than is warranted, but as an improvised bit of electronic soundscape, there’s a lush, rich feel to most of it that makes it an enjoyable listen. Stuart Bruce

via Chain DLK

New release: Luca Forcucci’s “The Waste Land”

Realities, appearing as multiple layers and folds in which memories, cognitions, perceptions are coined and ready to emerge.

The starting point for The Waste Land was an invitation to compose a twenty minutes soundtrack for a documentary movie. Accordingly, Luca Forcucci received six minutes of a field recording, without any mention of its own nature, or any information about the documentary. Forcucci didn’t ask anything about it, instead he listened carefully to the sonic material until images started to appear. The more he listened the more clear images emerged from his own mental movie.

The resonances emerge from the multiple projections of sounds into the power plant of an abandoned coal mine within a process that progressively recombines sound. Voices from the Coal Mine is freely inspired by Alvin Lucier’s I Am Sitting in a Room. Real spaces act as resonant filters and lead to virtual spaces made of resonances. Metaphorically, it encapsulates the memory of the voices and activity of the former workers from the coal mine.

My Extra Personal Space explores convergences of timbres from antagonist soundscapes of nature from the Normandy coast and urban contexts from Paris. Soundwalking is a component and tool to investigate, listen to and compose with the environment. This piece pays a tribute to urban drift of the Baudelairean flâneur — the casual wanderer, reporter and observer in the city.

All music by Luca Forcucci. Composed and mixed at INA GRM (Paris), Electronic Music Studio TU (Berlin), Atomic Lady (Earth). Mastered by Taylor Deupree. Cover photo by Luca Forcucci.

“The Waste Land” is available as a limited edition tape or a download.

Futurónica 189


Episode 189 of Futurónica, a broadcast in Rádio Manobras (91.5 MHz in Porto, 18h30) and Rádio Zero (21h GMT, repeating on Tuesday at 01h) airs tomorrow, March 31st.

The playlist of Futurónica 188 is:

  1. Kontakt der Jünglinge, 1 (2001, Kontakt der Jünglinge 1, Die Stadt)
  2. Kontakt der Jünglinge, 0 (2001, Kontakt der Jünglinge 0, Die Stadt)

You can follow Rádio Zero’s broadcasts at radiozero.pt/ouvir and Rádio Manobras at radiomanobras.pt.

“Digital Junkies in Strange Times” reviewed by Data.-Wave


The brand-new Ran Slavin’s album, which was just released on the label Crónica, sounded incredibly awesome in my media player. I’ve always been interested in his music, but I was surprised to discover that Digital Junkies in Strange Times was even more intriguing than his previous work. Not long ago, Data.Wave hosted an interview with Ran Slavin that really highlighted aspects of his talent as a video-audio designer, but a lot was left out. Listening to Digital Junkies in Strange Times convinced me one again, that there are no limits to a real artist’s creativity.

The art of a real musician always surpasses all standards and clichés, and this album is a confirmation of this truth. Ran Slavin never repeats himself; his every release is unlike the previous ones; he develops and implements new paths for his sound. The digital LP Digital Junkies in Strange Times begins with quite a dynamic track Turbulent Sphere, where a stream of clicks speeds up and gradually merges into an R’n’B vocal that sounds like a complete fullout. At the same time you can hear space-like sounds, appearing and disappearing noises, hits. I can’t say for sure, but maybe it’s someone repairing a space zen-station, floating on the orbit…

I’ve never heard anything like this and I can’t compare Digital Junkies in Strange Times to anything else, but I would dare to guess that a live show with a set like this would knock people over and turn their minds upside down.
Ran Slavin’s method of shaping the sound is very subtle, it walks the thin line of the limits of our perception, but his music doesn’t quite cross this border.

The second track, Acousmatis, and its guitar sounds really invoked memories of the Moebius comic books, like a time-out from the inside of an illusive digital city. It’s sad that it’s such a short track, because I would gladly listen
to more of this. The thing that begins from the third track, Teen Haze, really switches the mood and gets us ready for the very impactful fourth track Moonlight Compilations, that is actually a bit more than just a track; it’s a recorded live improvisation on the radio Halas, the overall duration of which is 41:34.

Moonlight Compilations is a volatile mix, an incredible clash of genres that transports us to another dimension.
It has an incredible amount of various instruments, futuristic structures, field recordings, creating a real digital Metropolis, our natural habitat. It’s difficult to describe all this just with text, because this intellectual experiment invokes very strong interior emotions and feelings. Anyone can listen to this release now as the album Digital Junkies in Strange Times is available for free download, so why not get it while you still can!

via Data.Wave

“Juryo: Durée de la vie de l’ainsi-venu” reviewed by Gonzo Circus


De Franse componist Emmanuel Mieville studeerde geluidstechniek bij een filmopleiding en musique concrète bij de beroemde Groupe de Recherches Musicales (GRM). Verder verdiepte hij zich in noet-Westerse instrumenten en speelde hij in een (Frans) gamelan-orkest. Die verschillende leerscholen klonken door in zijn uitgaven die in de afgelopen ruime tien jaar her en der verschenen. Bijvoorbeeld op de twee volwaardige en goede albums die Baskaru uitbracht en wederom op de nieuweling ‘Juryo’ die nu bij het Portugese Crónica is verschenen. Het album heeft de ruimtelijkheid van het album ‘Ethers’, de exotische field recordings van datzelfde album en van ‘Four Wanderings in Tropical Lands’, een – ondanks de abstracte composities – haast verhalende kwaliteit en een grote helderheid van klanken van melodie- en ritmeloze composities. Het palet aan geluiden klinkt meestal bekend en doet denken aan veel elektronische en elektroakoestissche muziek – het album zou ook passen in de caatlogus van Empreintes Digitales, bijvoorbeeld. De lijn in de composities is niet altjid duidelijk; ruime delen van de vier lange composities klinken als een veelheid van opeenvolgende ideeën of een collage van ‘klakvignetten’. Gebrek aan richting breekt een compositie van bijna achttien minuten op, de spanningsbood verslapt. Daar staat tegenover, de afwisseling en combinatie van bijvoorbeeld lange hoge en korte tonen, borrelende geluiden, elektronisch gesputter en gespetter, tinkelende en ruisende elektronica, organisch, hecht en sfeervol is. Verrassend en geslaad is vooral de verwqerking van niet of nauwelijks bewerkte field recordings in de abstracte elektronische composities. ‘Nyorai’ bevat zang van Tibetaanse nonnen en radiofragmenten uit Hong Kong; in ‘Taisi Funeral’ zijn opnamen van repetitef Boeddhistisch gezang voor een dode in Taiwain opgenomen. Zo valt het eindoordeel over het album alsnog positief uit. (rm)

Via Gonzo Circus

“Geography” reviewed by HIS Voice

cronica117-2016_520
Do katalogu portugalského labelu Crónica přibylo po deseti letech nové dílo Vitora Joaquima, laptopisty, výtvarníka a online aktivisty, od osmdesátých let jednoho z nejvýraznějších představitelů portugalské elektronické scény.

Nové CD nese název Geography a je inspirováno myšlenkami amerického vědce, fyziologa a geografa Jareda Diamonda, zejména jeho dílem Osudy lidských společností (Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, 1995; česky Columbus, 2000), které si klade otázku, co způsobilo, že se od určitého bodu začaly různé lidské společnosti vyvíjet různě a nikoliv stejně? Diamondovou odpovědí je, že na vině jsou různá prostředí – tedy zeměpis – nikoliv biologické odlišnosti mezi jednotlivými lidskými skupinami.

Tolik nutné hudebně-publicistické minimum, které v Joaquimově případě rád opustím. V první řadě proto, že umělcovu mikroesej na toto téma si lze přečíst pouze v tiskové zprávě, nikoliv na obalu CD samotného, kde je zmíněna jen inspirace Diamondem a žádné rozklady na toto téma se nevedou (na crónicovském bandcampu ale zase ano), především ale proto, že Joaquim je hudebníkem s natolik výrazným autorsko/improvizačním rukopisem, že se rád nechám okouzlovat sluchovými vjemy, nikoliv brilantním záměrem. Sám ostatně, podobně jako například Francisco López, rád hraje potmě, aby posluchači byli opravdu posluchači.

Zeměpis v názvu alba se ovšem dá chápat i jako poklona jedenácti z hudebníků, s nimiž Joaquim – dle vlastních preferencí spíš sólista – v minulosti měl tu čest na pódiu; na novince záznamy společného hraní sampluje, takže se můžeme nechat překvapovat hlasy harfy, houslí, klavíru, dechů, perkusí či akordeonu… a kromě toho i samply z několika Joaquimových starších alb. Ty na novince najít neumím, u zvuků akustických nástrojů mě ale těší, jak organicky jsou vetkány do anorganického světa jedniček a nul. Žádné duely, nýbrž plynulá přelévání rovnocenných hlasů. Trochu nadbytečně působí jen sampl zkresleného hlasu v úvodním tracku. Prý jde o záznam z programu Apollo, tedy symbolický pohled na pozemskou geografii z vesmírné výše, podobní „rozhlasoví hlasatelé“ jsou ale dosti omšelou rekvizitou.

Poslouchat laptopistu, kterak kliká, katuje a glitchuje, v tom už je pro mě sakramentská dávka nostalgie. Leckdo laptopy, které byly před cca patnácti lety div ne stavěny na piedestal, nyní bere jako samozřejmost, nutné zlo nebo je rovnou opustil pro hraní „živější“, „analogovější“, „kontaktnější“. Z noťasů se stala tak samozřejmá součást domácností a pracovišť, že nás svou novostí a nedostupností už nedojmou. (Kolik laptopů byste si koupili za peníze na pořádný modulární synťák?) Zrovna tak hudba, kterou jsme si zvykli spojovat s termíny uvedenými v prvním řádku tohoto odstavce, už má dávno setřený pel.

Vitor Joaquim ovšem s přehledem ukazuje, že živá digitální hra na pomezí kompozice a improvizace je dodnes platnou disciplínou a dá se dělat s virtuozitou, jejíž samozřejmou součástí je nezastupitelnost nástroje. Netroufám si odhadnout, do jaké míry se zde živě improvizuje, do jaké komponuje, do jaké stříhají nahrávky vzniklé v různých kontextech (i geografických). Patrně od každého něco, výsledek je ale nezpochybnitelně joaquimovský.

Osmero tracků se honosí příkladnou digitální čistotou, přitom ale působí jako ideální hudba pro podzimní poslech při svíčce. Každá vrstva zvuku nese výrazný melodický či rytmicko-repetitivní motiv (nebo jeho náznak), vždy ve středním až pomalém tempu. Všechny hlasy se přirozeně přelévají, doplňují a střídají, žádný nápad není strojově opakován. Improvizace, softwarové a střihačské fígle – a výsledek je uklidňujícím způsobem skoropísňový. Stačilo by jen tu a tam neuhnout a místo další pozvolné odbočky něco zapět… ale proč, že ano? Takhle je to podmanivější. Petr Ferenc

via HIS Voice

New release: Ran Slavin’s “Digital Junkies in Strange Times”


Crónica is delighted to present a new release from Ran Slavin, “Digital Junkies in Strange Times”.

As early as the second decade of the 17th century, the laptop was well on its way to being a favourable solo instrument, and it very soon evolved a special virtuoso literature that included every trick usually thought of as part of the music of more recent times. Meanwhile the principle behind the laptop, as it evolved as a form, and behind all “electronic” music, for that matter, was that of instrumental color, and within this principle the laptop worked magnificently. Then in the 19th century the laptop was turned to again in the renewed interest in displays of virtuosity for its own sake, and we have the stage set for a kind of laptop concerto.

Reflected on its surface are fortresses and castles — witnesses of bygone days of knightly splendour and the vanished glory of fighting times. At the St. Johns Rapids the stream races ahead, winding through the cataracts, hewing out a path with its foaming waves through the rocky chasm into the broad river bed…

The mystery in fact can be divided into 4.

Ran Slavin’s 8th release in Crónica ranges from the subtle, delicate and personal to the almost unpredictable. Slavin’s music fluidly moves from texture-techno to dirty-ambient, from field recording to R&B and lounge, in a hypnotic spiralling soundtrack with virtual guest vocalists Songdreamer and Nicole.em.

The 59-minute digital LP is comprised of 4 tracks with durations ranging from 1.5 minutes to the 41 minute sonic universe of Moonlight Compilation, that encompasses a multitude of scenes and divergent paths within them.

Ran Slavin is a multi faceted artist who works primarily with video installation, sound and film. His work explores fiction and prismatic forms and narratives through video and sound installation and can be interpreted as an expansion of cinematic forms, usually utilising post production and compositing sensibilities as tools of subversion and reality enhancement. Slavin’s work often embraces the tension between fact and fiction, supernatural and mythical, history and futurism and compels the viewer to wander beyond reality and the immediate, into a prism of digital superposition.

A capella vocals to Sparkle ft. R. Kelly’s Be Careful & Mos Def’s Respiration by Songdreamer. A capella vocals to Isley Brother’s Let’s Fall in Love by Nicole.em. Moonlight Compilations was partly recorded during a live broadcast on www.halas.am. Thanks to Ophir Ilzetzki and Daniel Meir. Field recordings, instruments, and editing by RS. Cover by RS and MC.

“Under my Skin” reviewed by Bodyspace


Para estudar.

O título pode, à partida, parecer enganador. Só quando chegamos aos minutos finais de “Under My Skin”, tema homónimo que é um de dois pontos finais do disco, e ao sample rouco da canção de Frank Sinatra com o mesmo nome, é que percebemos que existe, aqui, algo de humano ou de carnal; que o é de forma fantasmagórica, como se a pele há muito tivesse sido abandonada, ou trocada, pelos bytes; como se nada mais restasse que a memória de uma máquina que já foi humana, upload de mente para disco rígido.

Há muito que Gintas Kraptavičius, ou Gintas K, explora a música digital – quase vinte anos. Under My Skin prossegue esse trilho laboratorial, sendo um disco no qual, mais que a vontade de fazer música, destoa a vontade de a descobrir por entre muralhas e muralhas de sons artificiais. O resultado final pode não ser, segundo os cânones, considerado música, assim como uma experiência não pode ser considerada arte. Ou talvez possa, dependendo do olhar de cada um.

Os sons aqui ordenados têm a capacidade de transmitir as mesmas sensações que qualquer peça; ouça-se a água correndo sob tilintar tribal em “Song”, ou o choque electrónico – e caótico – de “Minml”. Mas é mesmo no rodopio de “Under My Skin”, que começa numa chuva de dados e desagua numa outra de noise (durante a qual entra, então, o homem via Sinatra), que está o maior impacto de Under My Skin, o disco. Não é um álbum, é um estudo, e só os alunos mais aplicados terão a capacidade de o perceber. Paulo Cecílio

via Bodyspace