“The Wayward Regional Transmissions” reviewed by Octopus

Artiste multimédia, touche-à-tout de la création digitale et de l’ouverture acoustique, l’israélien Ran Slavin s’est entouré de ses compatriotes Ahuva Ozeri, joueuse accomplie de bubultarang, sorte de cithare indienne à trois cordes, et Moshe Eliaha, joueur d’oud, pour définir les contours floutés de cet étrange voyage sonore. A la fois épique et évanescent comme une traversée fantômatique du désert rajasthani poussée par les vents, The Wayward Regional Transmissions transporte l’auditeur entre abstractions click’n’cuts et colorations orientales vagabondes sans sacrifier une once de cohérence à l’ensemble du disque. Plus que simplement méditatif, le résultat sonore s’avère étrangement intuitif tant les lignes harmoniques ainsi créées combinent fragmentations digitales et introspections instrumentales avec une profondeur troublante. Un exercice d’équilibriste sur un fil de cyber-sadhu.

Laurent Catala

“Hidden Name” reviewed by Cyclic Defrost

Strewn together during a stay at a Manor Farm House in the South of England, Hidden Name invents its own mythic past. Its swooning, woody tones and swathes of haunting, echoing noise wipe away time’s contributions and seek out original memory, a universal stillness, a tantalizing quiver of immobility.

Seductive subtleties are present in the manners in which clusters of piano, flute and cello form new tonal configurations while always seeking union with a sky of pealing electronics. Compositions such as ‘Fugue’ have the fluid motion and expansiveness of the sea, as it cradles digital debris and bells that toll and reverberate. Other pieces, especially ‘Quartet For Flute, Piano And Cello’, maintain this fluttering delicacy and pendulous musing while at the same time embracing a grim eloquence, as the gurgling electronics pick up some grit and grime from the guttural, sibilant scraping of a violin. Such moments stand out as fleeting nightmares in an album that otherwise breathes with audible regularity.

Pieces on a whole are short, yet compositionally measured so as to convey an enriched sense of depth and vividness. At just under two minutes in length, ‘Belle Etoile’, with its clanking piano refrain, is slowly filled out by incidental sounds and light digital nicks and scratches, until all of a sudden the heavy beating of rain reveals that one is caught outside in a wide-open pasture of red-singed autumn gardens. ‘The Planets’, meanwhile, is a voluptuous twenty-minute composition which is draped in tender ambience and flickering, theremin-like pulses that continue to divulge these solemn, graceful themes.

Max Schaefer

“Hidden Name” reviewed by Vital

Ah two busy bees, Janek Schaefer probably more at the forefront than Stephan Mathieu, but both are always to be found somewhere. This is not the first time that they work together. In 2003 they released a work that was made in a hotel room in Montreal, together with Radboud Mens and Timeblind (see Vital Weekly 379). In ‘Hidden Name’ they also work physically together, going to Manor Farmhouse in Child Okeford to find there a piano, clarinet, cello, flute, trumpet, accordion, sitar, singing bowls, bells, voices, games and records, plus of course, being both dedicated lovers of field recordings, the surrounding itself. Afterwards the work was edited into what is now present on this CD, eleven tracks, and it damn hard to tell what is what here. There might be crackles of vinyl, or the squeaking of a door, but the vast majority is made up of densely layered patterns of recordings of the instruments. They are woven together in such a way that it is hard to tell what is what here.

However it seems that roles are this: Schaefer plays anything to do with field recordings and records and Mathieu’s part is playing the instruments, but also processing the latter inside the computer. Mathieu does what he does best: wave them together into a finely woven cloth of sound, that feels warm and cosy. Schaefer’s addition (or starting point, depends on how these things should be seen) works very well, it makes both a contrast to Mathieu’s work, but it’s at the same time it gets soaked into the music, and makes a natural companion. This is a major tour de force of eleven beauties. Great stuff from great minds.

Frans de Waard

“The Wayward Regional Transmissions” reviewed by Blow Up

Ran Slavin è un artista multimediale di Tel Aviv che si occupa di musica, cinema, video arte e installazioni; ne ricordiamo un buon CD qualche tempo fa ma ha prodotto soprattutto lavori per performance live e d’arte contemporanea. In “The Wayward Regional Transmissions” presente otto trace in cui media perfettamente estetica avant-glitch e folk mediorientale; non pensiate perè ai glitch-pop e glitch-folk tanto in voga qualche anno fa. Qui tutto è estremamente sommesso e intimista, la catarsi elettronica è un mero strumento attraverso cui si lasciano evaporare campioni di corde (e, in un paio di pezzi, sublimi straniti vocalizzi femminili) che ondeggiano come odalische in uno spazio aperto, desertico, annichilito da un caldo soffocante. Solo a tratti le ritmiche prendono corpo (DAT Beats) ma anche allora tutto è funzionale alla rappresentazione di un universo in cui ipermodernità e tradizione si sfocano e sfumano, quasi metafora di quel conflito tra spinte al futuro e dolorosi rigurgiti della memoria che affligge le civiltà di quelle terre

Stefano I. Bianchi

“Hidden Name” reviewed by Chain DLK

After meeting at the MUTEK Festival in 2002, sharing the bills on various festivals all over the world and a previous collaborative effort in 2003 along with Radbound Mens and Timeblind (“Quality Hotel” out on the Mutek label), Stephan Mathieu and Janeck Schaefer decided to spend some days together in the home of a classical composer in the English countryside and there they recorded a huge amount of material that they later reprocessed and assembled in York Music Research Center. Basically Mathieu plays all the instruments and Schaefer does all the field recordings and in most of the tracks you can recognize both artist’s distinctive trademarks but sometimes the symbiosis works so well and results in a new, unorthodox glitch-psychedelia. The highlight here is the sixth track called “Quartet for Flute, Piano and Cello”, where you can hear pops and crackles of a worn-out vinyl over a complex sound patchwork somehow resembling Ehlers’ “Plays” series. Due to its amazing sound quality it surely sounds better through loudspeakers rather than headphones. Recommended.

Andrea Vercesi

“The Wayward Regional Transmissions” reviewed by Goddeau

Kort na de Tweede Wereldoorlog suste Europa zijn geweten door een opgejaagd volk eindelijk zijn land terug te geven. Dat land, zo liet een oud en heilig boek weten, behoorde hen toe omdat hun God het hen geschonken had. Dat die grond intussen door iemand anders ingenomen was, was niet meer dan een vervelend euvel dat dra uit de weg zou worden geruimd.

Een slordige zestig jaar later is dat euvel nog steeds niet verholpen en worden begrippen als “martelaar”, “terrorist” en “legitieme verdediging” met in bloed gedrenkte woorden geschreven. Het onbegrip, de woede en de haat die aan beide kanten blijven opflakkeren vinden hun weg naar het dagelijkse leven en worden nu en dan vertaald naar geschriften en andere kunstuitingen. De vraag stellen of het ook maar iets betekent, is ze cynisch beantwoorden.

Op The Wayward Regional Transmissions stelt Ran Slavin ze toch, zij het verborgen en omfloerst. De audiovisuele kunstenaar confronteert op dit album traditie met moderniteit en laat ze in een utopische dialoog met elkaar treden. In niet minder dan de helft van de nummers (“Village”, “Wayward Initial”, “The Silence” en “Hagali”) werkt Slavin samen met Ahuva Ozeri, die in Israël bekend werd met haar traditionele klaagliederen in de traditie van Mizrahit-muziek. Maar het dagelijkse leven in Tel Aviv sluipt duidelijk binnen, want maar al te vaak weerklinkt in de nummers de grimmige realiteit.

Glitch en electro domineren “Village” zo sterk dat elke verzoeningspoging tussen Slavin en Ozeri op voorhand dreigt te mislukken. In de andere nummers weten beide stijlen elkaar echter wel te vinden en is er sprake van een echte kruisbestuiving. Zo ademt “Wayward Initial” paranoia en vervreemding uit, niet ondanks maar dankzij Ozeri, en klinkt “Hagali” op een hedendaagse manier net heel tijdloos. Ook “The Silence” weet met zijn vervreemdende karakter te boeien, en de klanken die Ozeri uit de bulbul tarang (een Indisch snaarinstrument) weet te halen, vloeien wonderwel over in Slavins clicks and cuts.

Moshe Eliahu tracht in “Jericho 6 AM” met een ud iets gelijkaardigs te verwezenlijken maar hier is de grootsteedse angst te sterk aanwezig om aandacht te besteden aan iets anders dan kille electro. Wanneer Eliahu ten langen leste toch gehoor krijgt, klinkt zijn stem zo ver weg dat alleen de echo nog weerklinkt. Nergens anders weet Slavin het onbestemde gevoel van een constante dreiging beter op te roepen: het geluidentapijt barst van de motieven maar geen van hen schreeuwt luidkeels om aandacht. Elke gil weerklinkt alleen binnen het eigen hoofd.

In schril contrast hiermee staat het opgejaagde en opgefokte “Kiosk In Furadis”, dat een popsong door de mangel haalt in wat klinkt als een frenetiek switchen tussen pop, drum ’n bass en statische ruis. “Shelters And Peace” daarentegen grossiert in onbestemde geluiden en klikkende ritmes. Het nummer zweert bij de herhaling van leidmotieven die op een afwisselende geluidssterkte en toonhoogte te horen zijn. “DAT Beats” haalt een gelijkaardige tour de force uit maar gooit er schijnbaar willekeurig allerlei stoorzenders en vaag herkenbare geluiden (vooral stemmen) tussen.

Het werk van Ran Slavin floreert vooral binnen de besloten en veilige kunstwereld, en ook The Wayward Regional Transmissions richt zich in de eerste plaats op die doelgroep. Maar net zoals het een illusie was om te geloven dat de staat Israël zich zonder kleerscheuren zou oprichten, is het naïef om te geloven dat Slavin in zijn cocon kon blijven functioneren. Bedoeld of niet, Slavins werk kan niet worden losgekoppeld van de dagelijkse onzekerheid die zijn thuisland teistert. Het geeft aan The Wayward Regional Transmissions onbewust een meerwaarde, ten goede of ten kwade.

Jurgen Boel

“The Wayward Regional Transmissions” reviewed by The Wire

Sound/video artist Ran Slavin, an Israeli, uses aerial photography of the Middle East as a visual underpinning to The Wayward Regional Transmissions, which follows last year’s Insomniac City CD + DVD release on Mille Plateaux. Apart from the hint offered in the title “Shelters and Peace”, there is very little sense of the political strife in the region. This is more a warped and filtered celebration of its topographical virtues, folk traditions and general aromas. “Jericho 6AM”, featuring the oud of Moshe Eliahu, conveys, in its distant drones and sampled folk, a pregnant and palpable sense of the heady emptiness of dawn, creating an atmosphere you can almost reach out and bite. “Village” is built around the traditional bulbul tarang of Ahura Ozeri, as is “Wayward Initial”, Techno-cubistic takes on this instrument otherwise known as the ‘Indian banjo’. “Dat Beats” could be seen as an “elaboration” on a more famous exploration of this particular audio subject matter — CAbaret Voltaire’s Three Mantras.

David Stubbs

“Hidden Name” reviewed by De-Bug

Aufgenommen wurde diese Zusammenarbeit in dem Landhaus eines englischen Komponisten, der den beiden Musikern auch eine große Sammlung an klassischen und exotischen Musikinstrumenten und Schallplatten zur Verfügung stellte. Zusätzlich machten die beiden Aufnahmen von Soundscapes in der Umgebung. Das Ergebnis ist ein äußerst entspanntes elegisches Album geworden, das mit Drones und Ambiences arbeitet, Klavierminiaturen, konkreten Klängen aber auch mit Loops verkratzter Schellacks, Bearbeitungen von “Maori Love Songs” und puren Naturaufnahmen.

“Hidden Name” reviewed by Sonic Arts Network

Lonely spinning giants from the experimental scene ™: German Stephan Mathieu and English Janek Schaefer share their common interest of devouring a manicured history of pasty white memories and a soup of gossamer sounds, on “Hidden Names”.

Recorded during the winter of 2005 in a Victorian void in the South of England (Manor Farm House located in Child Okeford), the two locked horns and kicked around the empty house. Amongst sun yellowed picture frames, scent heavy doors, rose coloured walls they made field recordings and used old records found in the attic of the house. They took a week to make this collection of heavenly orchestrated noise, of crackling hidden melodies which tease out of the cloth of the speakers like Lazarus resurrected.

Nostalgia bleeds and feeds in these 11 pieces.

“White Wings” is a whirl of topes that cut off the world, making it a disastrous thing to stop listening, just in case that these wires might send the heart a message of WHY. The Victorian void of enlightenment is cascaded further on “Comos”. This is a sound piece that creates a vision of a fleshly aviation menagerie, a bird version of Waco. Clashing pigeons, cooing sweeps, set against crows cawing, and roosters calling for an end to all mankind with its misunderstanding of bird flu and the cull that ensued. The birds here are Hitchcockian and non fading.

“Quartet for Flute, Piano and Cello” is a love song for the most unrequited moments in a lost room. Its see through fingers glide over ancient vinyl recordings, attic dust, and an automatic invisible turntable. It cements the territory that was pinned out previously as it confidently strides under black umbrellas instead of the silent tip toeing giggled at before. Amazing.

“Maori Love Song” is a jazz funeral for Mary Shelly trapped in a cryogenic cell as Walt Disney tries to romance her with puppet strings.

We are left squinting at the last track “The Planets”. This camouflages a sunrise under the atmospheres of individual working methodologies, and looks back at a time gone by when the sun on Albion was pure, the breeze contained no fear and men like Xavier De Maistre journeyed around their room; internal explorer becomes external tourist.

Clearly this is a device of time travel disguised as a CD.

“The Wayward Regional Transmissions” reviewed by Bad Alchemy

Wie abstrakt und digital zermahlen auch immer, Slavin macht hörbar, dass Israel auch ein orientalisches Land ist. Wesentlich für den Eindruck sind Samples der Bulbultarangspielerin Ahuva Ozeri, einer Oud und von ‘arabeskem’ Radiopopgedudel. Ozeri ist etwas besonderes, eine Virtuosin der indischen Brettzither, eine populäre Singer-Songwriterin der Musiqah Mizrahit, von ihrem Debut Hechan Hachayal 1975 bis zu Behibak & A Golden Key 2005, eine Frau, die sich in einer Männerdomäne durchsetzte. Aufgewachsen im Kerem Hateimanin-Viertel im Süden von Tel Aviv, pflegt sie den ‘souligen’, aber meist Männern vorbehaltenen traditionellen Klagegesang, der in Israel im Gegensatz steht zu Shirei eretz Israel und zum ‘Mediterranen’ Stil. Ein fundamentaler Ost-West-Gegensatz von Ashkenzi einerseits und yemenitischen, griechischen, arabischen, persischen und türkischen Wurzeln andererseits, der mit Zündstoff reich bestückt ist. Gerade Ozeris Instrumentalsound zu zermörsen, um seine ‘westliche’ und laptopelitäre Hightech-Muszak orientalisch zu würzen, zeugt für Slavins Sinn für Paradoxes. Er scheint aber solche Vexationen zu mögen. Luftaufnahmen von Haifa und der Judäischen Wüste als Illustrationen spielen nämlich ebenfalls mit einem Kippeffekt, dem von Blicken aus der Lufthansatouristenklasse und von den Satellitenphotos, die Raketenziele kartografieren. Wenn der Strand von Tel Aviv verlassen daliegt, dann nur wegen dem schlechen Wetter ? Slavins Klangbänder sind zithrig, zittrig, stottrig mäandernde, perkussiv vertrackte Projektionsfolien für gemischte Gefühle und gleichzeitig ein Postulat, mehr zu mischen – etwa zu einer Oriental Abstract Spiritual Music.