Another strong project by this Portuguese electro-acoustic composer, whom we first noted with his 2004 CD A Rose is a Rose on the Austrian D0c label. The Rose CD made sparing use of TV and radio samples alongside churning, trundling loops of electronic noise; Joaquim does much the same here, allowing disembodied and treated voice fragments to come in at carefully-chosen points, and state disconnected words which sometimes outline a vague “theme” to these instrumental pieces. For anyone who’s ever admired the use of sharply compacted lyrics on Kraftwerk’s The Man Machine, here’s the perfect modern update on that formula. Very interesting, single-minded textures and patterns are worked into the ground as Joaquim relentlessly rotates each virtual object over and over in his virtual hands, like foam rubber cubes in a hot tumble dryer.
The eight themed woks explore highly existencial concepts, as suggested by their titles “Moments of your time”, “Moments of silence”, “Moments of emptiness”, and (my personal favourite) “Moments of skin”. Have you ever had a skin moment? It’s a lot worse than watching a L’Oréal commercial on TV. Like any good modernist, Joaquim is painfully self-conscious and aware of the fleeting moments of time alloted to us petty mortals, as we helplessly watch opportunities slip between our fingers while we’re locked in our paralysing states of indecision. This paradox is best expressed through two deeply ambiguops pieces in this record, “Thinking moments” and “Misleading moments”, the latter work proving to contain a particularly difficult stretch of desolate emptiness, followed by a minimal white-noise pulse beat and an uncertain looped chord of synthesised music.
Flow is intended as a real confrontational exercise, asking deep and imponderable questions about the nature of real human expression. The taped voice of Filipa Hora is a key part in this plan. Joaquim shows no mercy as he “alters, expands and processes” her voice in the computer, stretching possibilities to the limit. “I think this is so dangerous, this intimacy”, she whimpers helplessly. “I think I’m going to have to stop you from getting closer.” But it’s too late. Joaquim advances like an isatiable beast. Nothing left for her but “moments of skin”. All of this excellent music, which somehow manages to be very precise about quite vague subjects, could be used therapeutically — to better enhance you capacity for clear-sighted thought during those crisis-filled moments of existencial doubt. In this regard, it will deliver much better results than playing that Nintendo® DS Lite Brain Training game.
Ed Pinsent