Der portugiesische Komponist arbeitet an Installationen und Theater genau wie an Videos. Im Falle von “Flow” stammt allerdings nur die Musik von Joaquim, der Film, der ebenfalls auf der CD enthalten ist, stammt von Lia. Hauptakteur ist hier der Rechner, obwohl als Klangmaterial zwei Gitarren, eine Sängerin und Fernsehgeräusche genannt werden. Er verarbeitet dieses Material zu rauhen, kratzigen digitalen Hörstücken, in denen immer wieder drone- und groove-artige Strukturen hörbar werden und die Stimme Filipa Horas manchmal soar genug Zeit hat, Textfragmente beizutragen. Spannende Platte, bei der ständig etwas Neues passiert und die mitnichten vor sich hin fliesst, wie der Titel vermuten lassen könnte.
“Flow†reviewed by monochrom.at
Calling a record of electronic music “flow†and then basically working on disrupting the flow is a daring act, but one that sets free thought and emotion and leaves a lot open for interpretation. Or, to start at the beginning, of definition: for what exactly is meant by “flow� The word is regularly used in a variety of different meanings, from ebb and tide to vienna coffee house electronica to even the distorted pounding of Schranz. Postrockers tend to flow but the same was said in musical history about fusion jazz and, behold!, New Age synthie shit. Do Slayer have a flow? What about Aphex Twin? To use a common denominator definition, flow would be the same as pulse but in a longer span of time, ie. if you stretch the pulse of a piece of electronic music in time it would be that zone of dynamic tension before it turns into a drone. Which, of course, is just as bad a definition as any, but that is the way they have to be: misleading, self-contradictory and with little to no ability to express what they mean. Just like the music they come from.
To Joaquim the flow is defined by the moment. At least he references to the idea of a “moment†in all the track titles on this album. From “Moments of your time†via “moments of sync†to “empty moments†and “misleading momentsâ€. He stretches, cuts and loops recordings of sounds, guitars and especially a female voice repeatedly speaking about her fears of intimacy and at the same time the loss of intimacy. Then he makes them akward, disrupts their organical flow by introducing new sounds or layers or stopping some abruptly. He uses noise and clicks to enforce the haphazard stumble through delicate beats and sounds. After all, the production is suberb and most bits and parts lay bare in crystal clear sound, ready to be dissected or digested. The pounding bass-rhythm formed from simple clicks but mixed into big proportions during “moments of silence†(track six) is a great way to show the abilities of Joaquim. To make things even more complicated, various parts, once again especially that female voice, repeat over and over again during the course of the record, in more and differently manipulated ways. So the listener has no option but try to swallow the whole thing as a whole. And to make that even more complicated, the label has added a video called “flow†(what else?) onto the disc.
The most interesting and most wondefully fascinating thing about communication is the fact that it works some times. From the simple task of a worldwide network of digitalized exchange of newsbits to the endlessly complex interconnections of communication in a human partnership, communications works. If you think about all the factors that may interfere, for instance starting from the very basic sender – reciever moder, you may start to doubt that communication is possible at all. If you then add the necessities and intermitting factors of the medium in all its variety and the history of communication between sender and reciever, you have taken the problem areas to manifold. And we haven’t even mentioned the black box of intermitting factors that come from outside our neat little modell. And within all those myriards of tiny little noise bits that turn into information when sorted in the right order, what place does electronic music inhabit? Well, records like “flow†seem to prove that within that vast universe of flickering tiny bits and bytes – or the hills and valleys of analogue transmission, if you insist –there are some places where the disturbance is bigger, because these records function like a black hole for infobits. So their place is to make the listeners more alert, sharpen their wits and enlight them.
Especially when he starts to emulate this gravitating and gyrating of info noise in a syrupy mass that we call the information age, in a dense and growing piece of static noise, modulated frequencies, warbling and stumbling beats, sharp high frequencies and a lot of other things that sound fierce and unfriendly when written down but form a big piece of music that feels good to the touch. “Silence … I still here you†repeats the female voice over and over again somewhere during the last third of “flowâ€. Yes, there is a lot of silence in these recordings, but unlike other records, the silence doesn’t come after the music is over, but is there visible and tangible while the music is still on.
“The Wayward Regional Transmissions†reviewed by Bodyspace
O glitch revela-se por meio das mais misteriosas formas. Como expressão incidente no aproveitamento da anomalia, varia conforme os tempos e ameaça não acusar desgaste enquanto forem questionáveis os dogmas de um corpo sonoro puro e primo. Ran Slavin, em meditação sobre o território de Médio Oriente que abrange a sua pátria Israelita, parece bem ciente dos múltiplos atributos de que se pode valer o glitch se for seu propósito reter cerebralmente a atenção enquanto lhe é servida um conjunto de paisagens, cenários virtuais e argumentos alegorizados. Não se julgue com isso que The Wayward Regional Transmissions envereda pela mais traiçoeira via panfletária ou explicitamente polÃtica – Ran Slavin tem na manga propósitos muito mais dignificantes e elaborados para a teia que tece a partir do imponente glitch, guitarra e acrescentes étnicos conferidos pela Bulbultarang (uma espécie de banjo indiano), Ud (instrumento de cordas egÃpcio) e samples de pop regionalmente tÃpica (em “Kiosk in Furadisâ€).
Antes de serem revelados os tais propósitos, importa primeiro citar Bom filho a casa torna como um dizer que se aplica na perfeição ao sentido protector que leva a portuense Crónica a manter por perto os estetas mais cativantes integrados no seu catálogo. Depois do convite para integrar o segundo tomo da série Product, Tropical Agent / Ears in Water, Ran Slavin regressa à label de Miguel Carvalhais com este The Wayward Regional Transmissions, numa altura em que atravessa inspiradÃssimo perÃodo na sua já longa e multifacetada carreira, ou assim o demonstra o soberbo disco de perdição Insomniac City, editado o ano passado pela Mille Plateaux e que ainda não deixou de revelar câmaras ocultas desde aÃ.
Sem mais demoras, enumerem-se as peculiaridades que fazem do glitch de Ran Slavin o código de cuja a assimilação se depende para ler ou se perder no mapa formado por The Wayward Regional Transmissions. Dificilmente se acredita encontrando-o assim, apenas escrito, mas é possÃvel simular a sensação de pesado jet lag a partir do glitch – tornando-o insoluvelmente denso e subterfluente, aplicando-o à corrosão da guitarra e outras frequências mais lineares de modo a que sobra apenas a estranheza. Ran Slavin recebe-nos de um modo calorosamente étnico (com a manipulação dos instrumentos acima citados) e depois espera que, de olhos vendados por um glitch crÃptico, consigamos regressar até um ponto seguro. Com a agravante de neste seu último trabalho, tal como já acontecia em Insomniac City, a tendência seja por alongar-se além do esperado, talvez como forma de fazer com que se sinta ainda mais perdido e privado de piso firme quem der por si tão distante do inÃcio como do fim da faixa.
Mesmo assim, não podia esta resenha terminar sem mencionar a imensurável obrada deixada por Muslimgauze (Bryn Jones, falecido em 1999), que será muito provavelmente dos mais inestimáveis reaproveitadores da inspiração oferecida musicalmente pelo Médio Oriente – ele que apoiava incondicionalmente a causa Palestiniana e procurava arrastar o brio dessa até aos seus mil e um discos (é literal a afirmação). Embora se encontrem em lados opostos da barricada, Muslimgauze e Ran Slavin trabalham o apelo étnico da conturbada zona de forma equivalentemente apaixonante. Muslimgauze convida a percorrer fantasiosamente as ruas e a contactar de perto com elas (quando ele, em vida, nunca o fez), Ran slavin propõe a que as observemos desde que filtradas pela sua vontade alquÃmica. The Wayward Regional Transmissions é uma bússola que se pretende desregulada. Por pura coincidência ou não, representa, ao lado de The Temple Bell de Old Jerusalem, um dos grandes lançamentos deste ano a conhecer carimbo de uma casa cá do burgo.
Miguel Arsénio
“Leise†reviewed by Neural
Shrill and charming sounds, bass and iterated frequencies, hypnotic drones, synthetic vibrations, hinting also to organic dimensions. Similarly to metallic insects’ breaths, in the dark bubbling of weird spaces and settings, this Frans De Ward solo release makes use of old recordings, sifted through different software programs, with a conceptual cut and paste extremely coherent and elegant. The original track warmth, the electroacoustic influence and the impro approach don’t disappear at all. All these characteristics are still lying over all together within the grooves, with deeper density and processing clarity.
Aurelio Cianciotta
“Leise†reviewed by D-Side
“Dis papa, ze peux zouer avec tes trucs, là ?” C’est sans doute la question que la petite Elise De Waard a posé à son père, Frans De Waard, fondateur de Beequeen, Freiband et Kappotte Muziek, alors qu’elle n’avait que trois ans. Evidemment aux anges, celui-ci l’a laissé jouer à sa guise avec ses plaques de tôle, ses bidons en plastiques, ses tiges et baguettes diverses et a enregistré, comme tout père de fait, le résultat de ses jeux. Il a ensuite retravaillé, longuement, par le biais des manipulations informatiques, les sons ainsi produits, transformant ce moment intime en un album de musique acousmatique aux tessitures complexes, une oeuvre partagée qui méritait largement de sortir du cercle familial. (…)
Jean-François Micard
“Flow†reviewed by The Wire
Joaquim is a key figure in Portuguese electronic music, as well as being heavily involved in a number of cross-media activities (film, visual arts, dance, etc). Flow takes as its basis the human voice (provided by fellow Crónica artist Filipa Hora) and synthesizes a bleak but beautiful electronic meditation on the nature of identity. “Slow Moments” is strongly reminiscent of AGF’s fractured confessionals, with Hora’s conspirational whisper negotiating a path through a sonic landscape littered with other samples of her voice. “Thinking Moments” captures the tiny sounds of moistened lips and snatched breath, adding heavily processed guitar to the mix, creating an engagingly intimate tone poem. Joaquim has a great gift for drawing out rhythmic and melodic patterns from the shards of sound produced by his software, giving Flow a pop heart that could see it finding favour with fans of the more “consumer-friendly” glitchery of Fennesz, Microstoria, et al.
“Flow†reviewed by Sonhors
Au Portugal, Vitor Joaquim s’affirme depuis quelques années comme l’une des figures les plus en vue en matière de musique électronique. Musicien, professeur et directeur du festival EME, on retrouve sa présence dans bon nombre d’activités artistiques mêlant à la fois : vidéo, musique, danse, théâtre et installations multimédia.
Flow son dernier album, sorti chez Crónica, est tout simplement irrésistible ! Ce féru d’électroacoustique nous propose une savoureuse mixture composée de fragiles atmosphères sonores intimes et apaisantes, où se juxtaposent (de bien belle manière) erreurs digitales, Field recording en provenance d’un récepteur TV et la voix numérisée de Filipa Hora. Découpée en plusieurs strates, l’écoute de cette seule et unique pièce méditative s’apparente à une lente plongée en immersion vers les profondeurs de l’abîme sonore ! AGF et certains travaux de Laurie Anderson viennent immédiatement à l’esprit… Echantillons de voix, bruits minuscules chuchotés du bout des lèvres, erreurs digitales et sons de guitares retraités (jouées par EmÃdio Buchinho et Joao Hora), la poésie numérique fait son oeuvre et s’affranchit très rapidement des références sus-citées ! Réfugié derrière son laptop, Vitor Joaquim produit de merveilleux modèles rythmiques et mélodiques et s’amuse à jongler entre assauts grinçants et pureté vocale !
Vitor Joaquim joue régulièrement avec Carlos ZÃngaro, Marco Franco, Miguel Santos, Nuno Rebelo, Pedro Carneiro, LuÃs Vitorino ou EmÃdio Buchinho et pratique l’improvisation depuis 1982.
Avec sa forte identité, Flow se distingue des glitcheries habituelles et s’affirme d’ors et déjà comme l’un des meilleurs albums de cette année 2006 !
“Flow†reviewed by Geiger
Der er stadig salg i den ret beset temmelig gamle idé med at blande elektroniske og akustiske instrumenter, og ikke mindst synes kombinationen af electronica og indiepop – laptop og sang/guitar – fortsat at trække folk til. Frugterne af denne hybrid er dog ikke altid lige overbevisende, ofte virker det faktisk som om det â€andet†element har en rent dekorativ funktion, hvad enten det er indie-sangskriveren, som pepper sine numre op med smarte digitaleffekter, eller electronica-nørden, som tilføjer mere â€varme†og â€autentiske†lydkilder til sin kliniske produktion. SÃ¥danne dekorationer kan selvfølgelig fungere udmærket, hvis ellers de underliggende kompositioner er gode og har plads til dem, men derfra er der dog stadig et stykke vej til, at det i sig selv skulle være en specielt interessant eller nyskabende bedrift at blande de to verdener. Der synes desværre at være alt for mange tilfælde, hvor strategien virker som en kreativ sovepude, og hvor tilføjelsen af enten elektronik eller akustiske instrumenter i bedste fald fremstÃ¥r unødvendig, i værste fald direkte irriterende. Men heldigvis kommer man sÃ¥ ogsÃ¥ en gang imellem ud for plader, som fÃ¥r noget virkelig originalt ud af fusionen. En sÃ¥dan er Vitor Joaquims Flow, som vinder gevaldigt ved ikke blot at være den rendyrkede knitre-electronica, som er det umiddelbare udgangspunkt.
Når albummet virker så godt, skyldes det blandt andet, at det meget konsekvent holder sig til det skarpe, syntetiske electronica-lydbillede, og at de ikke-elektroniske elementer er få og stramt integrerede i helheden. Filipa Horas fjerne, tøvende stemme glider umærkeligt sammen med de sært distræte glitchlyde, og kombinationen skaber en søvnig, nærmest dagdrømmende effekt, som dog hele tiden kun er udgangspunktet for numrenes forbløffende evne til at vokse sig store og dramatiske, båret af en kompositorisk stringens og stemningsmætning, som alt for ofte mangler i glitch. En uudgrundelig, næsten mystisk stemning hviler over albummet og forstærkes af Horas fragmenterede og til tider uudtalte ord, der fremstår som noget i retning af spøgelset af Laurie Anderson – en Anderson, som endegyldigt er blevet opløst i den samme teknologiske verden, hun normalt optræder som en underfundig iagttager af, og nu kun eksisterer som hakkende, kropsløse lydbidder. Også brugen af guitar, på to numre, er dejligt atypisk og underspillet. Klare, skarpe mønstre vokser fuldendt sammen med ringlende digitaleffekter, og er helt befriet for indietronicaens sædvanlige shoegazer-vanetænkning. I stedet skabes en dybt original fusion af det fremmedartede og det bevægende, og det er i sig selv lidt af en bedrift inden for en stil, hvor netop de elementer har det med at ende som henholdsvis tom abstraktion og dvask behagesyge.
En sÃ¥dan langt mere traditionel form for electronica-med-akustiske-indslag finder man hos Monoceros, hvis Tales for Silent Nights byder pÃ¥ en god bunke særdeles velafprøvede stilgreb: Naivistiske enfinger-melodier, brede â€melankolske†klangflader og knitrende beats, som dydigt nøjes med at holde takten i baggrunden. Der er afgjort tale om svulmende vellyd af den slags, som næsten bliver for meget af det gode, men omvendt mÃ¥ man ogsÃ¥ lade Monoceros, at han slipper ganske heldigt fra det og trods alt ogsÃ¥ har mere at byde pÃ¥ end blot de velkendte klicheer. Ikke at han fremviser noget videre nytænkende eller udfordrende, men numrene er for det meste skruet sammen med flere kompositoriske detaljer, end man typisk er ude for i stilen. Man kan sige, at albummet er velarrangeret i ordets bedste forstand. Melodierne folder sig langsomt ud og bliver stadig mere fyldige, imens roligt Ã¥ndende lyddyner og diskrete baggrundsklik holder det hele stilfærdigt afbalanceret, sÃ¥ det virker mere ligefremt og simpelt, end det egentlig er. Flere steder bliver det for pænt og mageligt, ganske som brugen af guitar og legetøjsklokkespil blot er med til at gøre det hele en tand mere tyktflydende end det behøver, men Tales for Silent Nights virker i sidste ende som album, fordi helheden fungerer bedre end delene hver for sig. At mere originalitet og flere skarpe kanter ville have gjort underværker er klart, men alligevel viser Monoceros, at den konsekvente dyrkelse af velproduceret vellyd nogle gange kan have sin berettigelse.
Jannik Juhl Christensen
“Leise†reviewed by Bad Alchemy
Hinter FREIBANDs Leise (Crónica 026) vermutet man erst mal einen weiteren Segeltörn über den Stillen Ozean of Sound. Aber der Titel entpuppt sich als Anagramm von Elise, Frans de Waards Töchterchen. Der Künstler-Vater begegnet, ähnlich wie die in gleicher Lage befindlichen RLW, Rafael Toral oder Ekkehard Ehlers, der mütterlichen Alternative ‚Kapotte Muziek oder kaputte Beziehung. Kümmer dich gefälligst auch um deine Tochter!‘ denkbar lässig.
Wir machen zusammen Musik, da geht euch der Hut hoch. Elise, damals 3 Jahre alt, spielt (with a wide variety of musical and non-musical objects: sheets of metal, paper, sticks and other junk), und Vadder spielt mit (with contact microphones, processing etc.). Zu Belohnung darf er dann wieder los ziehen, sogar nach Boston, Reykjavik oder nach Setúbal, wo Frans die Produkte seines & Elisens Spieltrieb den Knispel-Aficionados als sedimentierte Lebenskunst unterjubelt. Die Soundwelt als Sandkasten, die Sublimation von Milch und Brei und Windeldüften, von Patschhändchen und Polypenärmchen und zentnerschweren Gefühlsbindungen in fein gesiebte Luft. Quietscht bei ‚Knippers‘ noch ein Gummientchen, summt es in der Folge gewohnt abstrakt, d.h. konkret. Elise wurde dafür zum dröhn-, bei ‚Paarden‘ auch pulsminimalistischen Geist, der die summenden und bitzelnden Freiband-Schwingungen und knarzigen Loops dämpft und sie kuschelweich und sanft macht. Doch hatte Frans de Waard, auch ohne Software und Elise, nicht schon längst eine Ader für Milch & Honig?
“The Wayward Regional Transmissions†reviewed by Textura
Listening to Tel Aviv artist Ran Slavin’s The Wayward Regional Transmissions, one inevitably is reminded of Sebastian Meissner’s Random Inc. recordings Jerusalem: Tales Outside The Framework Of Orthodoxy (Ritornell, 2001) and Walking In Jerusalem (Mille Plateaux, 2002) (Slavin, whose CD-DVD release Insomniac City appeared on the resurrected Mille Plateaux last year, guests on Walking In Jerusalem and joined Meissner on Sub Rosa’s Into The Void, also 2006). Like his colleague, Slavin uses digital tools to reconfigure radically the acoustic sounds of Middle Eastern music and its traditional folk materials. Given the wholly mediated character of the average Westerner’s experience of the region, The Wayward Regional Transmissions comes across like a hyperreal travelogue through the Middle East with Slavin as one’s personal Baudrillardian guide.
A lamentation played by Ahuva Ozeri on her three-steel string Indian instrument, the BulbulTarang, is heard in rather unaltered form on the opener “Village,†while Moshe Eliahu plays the Ud on “Jericho 6AM,†a ten-minute soundscape of remarkably evocative character. Drenched in textures of crackle and glitch, string instruments and humming bass tones drift throughout its dense mix slowly, suggesting a city opening its collective eyes to a new day. Each piece offers a different experience: “Kiosk in Furadis†teems with jubilant singing and dizzying rhythms, shuddering guitar patterns in “Shelters and Peace†liken it to a Klimek homage; and “Hagalil†closes the album in an hypnotic swirl of silken guitar loops. Throughout the fifty-minute collection, Slavin liberally shapes his material, highlighting its geographic associations at one moment and downplaying them the next. Perhaps the work’s most captivating aspect is its omnipresent tension between the rooted character of the Middle Eastern sounds and the nomadic quality the electronic strategies bring to bear upon the material.