“Flow” reviewed by Octopus

Depuis 2003, le label Crónica poursuit son entreprise singulière de défrichage multimédia, pistant les traces éparses de sensibilité humaine au fil de productions se nourrissant des échanges entrelacés d’abstractions mélodiques digitales et d’habillages graphique et vidéo stylisés. Une science du dialogue entre le biologique et le numérique qui s’approfondit davantage encore sur ce Flow, mené avec maestria par le vétéran Vitor Joaquim, dont les aficionados se remémoreront le Tales Of Chaos paru en 1997 sur l’autre label portugais de référence, Ananana. Flow conserve la même approche thématique, déclinant différentes variations autour de la notion de “moments”. Il en ressort un sens curieux du mélange, où l’auditeur se laisse happer par une mise en scène flottante, par une théâtralité évanescente. Sur un lit d’effets musicaux électroniques discrets et enveloppants, alternant nappes fondantes et bleeps coulissants, Vitor Joaquim noue les fils d’une intrigue environnementaliste où les premiers rôles sont confiés avec parcimonie à la voix suave de Filipa Hora et aux guitares de Joao Hora et Emidio Bucchino. On avance donc précautionneusement dans l’écoute, au gré de cet étrange jeu de cache-cache entre la voix narrative et des sensations musicales clair-obscures qui entretiennent avec une douce harmonie une cohésion improbable. Sur “Slow moments”, le temps paraît suspendu derrière la voix qui semble se robotiser au contact des matières musicales grésillantes. Sur l’intro de “Moments of sync”, le fluide sonore s’amplifie brusquement, comme si une autoroute bruyante s’ouvrait tout à coup devant nos oreilles. De quoi tendre le pouce pour saisir au vol cette nouvelle expérience aventureuse et sensitive signée Crónica.

Laurent Catala

“Flow” reviewed by Gaz-Eta

For the past two decades, Portuguese electronic composer Vitor Joaquim has worked in a number of mediums. Besides music, he also likes to create works of video, dance, theatre and multimedia installations. Latest release bearing his name, “Flow” is a strangely restrained affair that tickles the ears. In fact, it doesn’t just tickle, his sounds mostly tease. He’s excellent at producing paradigm shifts of subtle force. Atmospherics created through random TV sounds, guitars and occasional vocals are as disturbing as they are revelatory. Besides the frequent changes in landscapes – from a high-pitched drone of the TV set to subtle processed guitars [played by Emídio Buchinho and Joăo Hora] – Joaquim prefers to employ a grating sound – this is the sound of something that is rough around the edges. Nothing clean can be heard in this work. If anything, it’s mucky and jagged with a mind of its own. How do you reconcile squeaky assaults of noise with recordings of a TV? How do you merge low humming voice [provided by Filipa Hora] with that of static sound? He certainly mastered his laptop as a fully operational instrument. Glitches and pops, the hums and the flows are like family members at a picnic. Unique to the point of extremes and beautifully obtuse, “Flow” does anything but flow.

Tom Sekowski

“Leise” reviewed by The Sound Projector

The great Frans de Waard is Holland‘s finest, here performing under one of his many guises, and has been associated with deep and droney instrumental projects for a long time. This is his third CD as Freiband. Here, you must devote your time to carefuly exploring ten tracks f quite and slow and exquisite music, which de Waard has realised in his usual craftsmanlike manner. Raw sound material was generated by his daughter Elise de Waard, who played “a wide variety of musical and non-musical objects” while Frans recorded everything with contact microphones. She was three years old at the time; the objects were those which de Waard elser uses to make Kapotte Muziek, and include sheets of metal, paper, sticks, plastic and junk. Resultant soundfiles were presumably loaded into a handy laptop, then reprocessed in line with his usual alchemical methods; he first did it in 2003 while staying in Boston USA and had sufficient material to play a concert there. Subsequent additions and extensions were made, allowing him to play further concerts at many venues in Holland, including VPRO radio in Amsterdam. While de Waard‘s own descriptions of this process — clearly very important to him — are delivered in short matter-of-fact statements on the back cover, the artwork to Leise (drawn by Rui Vitorino Santos) gives us a more imaginative view of the process. A happy little girl cuddles five cats in her hand, while her hair (rendered à la Scottie Wilson) grows Rapunzel-like in all directions, terminating in a laptop computer. Along the way these wild strands embrace other animals, drown a grand piano in an ocean of hair, and loop through the windows of a huge castle in their hirsute odyssey. This visual fantasy has more brio than the rather subdues and minimalistic process-based sounds that emanate from the actual record, but I think as with most of de Waard‘s work you really have to take the time, listen carefully, and let every moment of it seep into your bones.

Ed Pinsent

“Leise” reviewed by Vital

Freiband is one of the musical projects by the ever-prolific Frans de Waard. With Frans being one half of Beequeen and me being the other half, it is a bit difficult to be fully objective about this CD. However, to me, Freiband is one of the most interesting projects Frans is involved in. The reason for this is that Freiband is the musical project that comes closest to the person of Frans de Waard. He likes his music as devoid as possible of emotions, but Freiband has proven to be an exception. Often, the music has a “warmer” side and appears to be made with more depth in composing and structure and, as a bonus (perhaps as a consequence), is more accessible than say Kapotte Muziek or Goem. On this album, Frans uses sounds created in 2002 by his then 5-year old daughter Elise. These sounds (sometimes on musical instruments, sometimes not) were reworked on the laptop, giving the music that typical “laptop-sound”. Most of the tracks on this album have been groomed in several live performances. Opening with Elise blabbing out “Freiband!” this CD more or less follows those live sets. At times the origins of the sounds can be detected in the music (as in Vuur ‘fire’ and Storm), at times this is harder to recoup (as in Knippers ˆcutters- or Daisees). Personal favourites are ‘Bij’ and ‘Daisees’ with their slow pulses and keyboard sounds. Other pieces (like Rammel ‘rattle’ or De Kabale Brug ‘the noise bridge’) are slightly more fragmented. The title Leise (“quiet” in German) is a clever anagram of Elise‚s name. The “toot toot toot toots” at the end of the CD are charming little audio signatures of Elise and were previously also used to good effect in Beequeen performances. A review of this album would not be complete without a few words on the sleeve. This one is adorned by a gorgeous line drawing of Elise with cats in her arms by Rui Vitorino Santos. It is a charming, almost naïve portrait and surprisingly well-characterized. Interestingly enough, much like the music on this CD.

Freek Kinkelaar

“Leise” reviewed by e/i magazine

Much music prods at the spirit of the child, that fatuous pendant, which has since been mired in so many petty proclivities. Taking root in young Elise’s pussyfooting around with sheets of metal, paper, sticks, plastic and other musical and nonmusical instruments, one might be quick to lump this work in with all the others who profess a penchant for all matters Arcadian and puerile. Frans de Waard employs a quietly skewed approach to his daughter’s raw source sounds, though. The ensuing works do not deal in binaries, they are not charted against a child/adult axis. In rather subtle fashion, they spin delicate webs of glissandi, shadowy half-melodies, and doodling percussion. A music of different connections, of polyvalent elements, then. And not a moment too soon—Leise charms for its consistent ability to allow a digital glint to penetrate and shiver through Elise’s warm, clattery textures like a brisk wind through the trees. The euphoria of children at play is her, but focused, done up by Waard’s make-up kit, rendered scarcely recognizable and, at times, something else altogether. Only when the so-called real childishness shows through does the album stumble, but these moments are few and far between. “Paarden” is a chorus of shimmering electrons that are simultaneously elegant and studious while the sonorous frequencies of “Vuur” dwell within a tangled network of hissing and undergo a series of undulating phase shifts. Other tracks nurse granular drones and distant metallic clangs; while yet others border on being downright flinty. Composed of a fractured loop and thumbnail digital scratches, “Daisee” opens up into a dense wall of vapor that is decidedly neutral and calming. Singing “toot toot” on the final track of this work, Elise’s voice bookends an album which is many things in-between.

Max Schaefer

“Leise” reviewed by Chain DLK

Besides being a cult hero of mine for his activity in a theory of projects (Kapotte Muziek – r.i.p. -, Goem, Shifts, Beequeen, Wander…) and his heroic “Vital Weekly” newsletter, Frans de Waard is also a father, and various raw sounds produced by his daughter Elise (hence the title anagram) were used to assemble this cd, after a series of digital manipulations. Besides some voices and more recognizable toy playing at the beginning, you won’t grasp much of the starting point: the Dutch soundmaker, as predictable, has stretched, pulverized and re-assembled the files into an algid electroacoustic pulp. The final shapes range from droning sinewaves (“Knippers”) to dusty microsound particles (“Krassen”) to para-ambient (“Daisee”) and rhythmic structures (“Vuur”, “Storm” and “Paarden”, which sounds like an even more liofilized Goem). De Waard has maintained the raw essence of child play, so that, despite their sharp electronic edges, these tracks have a spontaneous, semi-improvised feel. The final result is quite nice, though honestly not as exciting as with other releases of his.

Eugenio Maggi

“Flow” reviewed by De-Bug

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 moments”. 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 “flow”. 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 política – 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 egípcio) e samples de pop regionalmente típica (em “Kiosk in Furadis”).

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 inspiradíssimo período 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 aí.

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 possível 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 críptico, 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 início 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 alquímica. 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