“On Paper” reviewed by Cyclic Defrost

On Paper is perhaps the most strange, uncommercial, unfathomable and difficult releases around. Yet I say that with a strange sense of awe. The concept of mixing and remixing the sounds of paper being ripped, those great big thick, almost cardboard gig posters you see around town, or you would if you lived in Berlin, is unmistakably weird. Stranger still is that this is a double disc set filled with numerous souls who have lined up for the challenge. And there’s even some known names such as Sebastian Meissner (Random Inc/Autoposies) and Ran Slavin who team up under the name b.Z_ToneR for a couple of incredibly minimal and tense electronic pieces flirting in that quiet and gentle way with dangerous frequencies that in the wrong hands could be potentially head splitting, yet in theirs are almost pop. There’s also German artist Stephan Mathieu, a master at dragging out the unseen/ unheard frequencies trapped beneath the recordings. Mathieu’s contribution surprisingly is a spooky drone, half feedback, half organ, a dreamy narcotic that seems to have little to do with the paper preamble, which only leads to more confusion. Many of the tracks feature much scratching, banging crashing and yes of course ripping, but little in the way of melody, rhythm, or repetition, in short there are very few handles. Yet it’s in these strange bleak environments where the unexpected can grow, such as the fragile warm industrial drone of Pal or Pure’s All This Paperwork, which begins abstract and difficult yet develops a soothing electric ambience that is simultaneous painful calming before erupting into a strange mechanical drone. Again what this has to do with paper is totally beyond me, yet given this disc boasts some of the strangest music I’ve encountered I’m willing to sit tight and forgive any thematic inconsistencies.

Bob Baker Fish

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by Jade

Cronica continue son lent et passionnant travail d’archivage, compilant / redéployant / réorientant sans relâche ses multiples projets sonores, s’attachant autant que faire ce peu, à parcourir, à détailler la multiplicité des approches émergeantes dans les sphères oubliées des musiques non-conventionnelles, qu’elles soient d’ordre expérimentales, électroacoustiques, ou non directives. 2 nouvelles productions, respectivement étiquetées Cronica 006-2003 et Cronica 007-2003 viennent clore l’année en beauté et éclairent 2 approches singulières.

AUTODIGEST et son histoire compressée de tous ce qui fut jamais enregistré tire sa conceptualisation intellectuelle et musicale des théories récentes de Baudrillard, mais également de David Harvey sur l’omniprésence absolue du son, du “bruit” culturel. Thème déjà évoqué par Formanex sur Fibrr rec, Autodigest digère l’histoire et son sens dans un trou noir musical fondamental et radical ; théorisation d’un trou noir et de sa spacialité qui raviront les amateurs de MEGO, entre autres.

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by The Sound Projector

What a title, eh? What kind of recorded music could possibly live up to it? The ambitions of this recording are not only hinted at in that grandiose title, but are further elaborated in a deeply pretentious sleeve note. “Aspires to a viral, everpresent omnipresence”, the writer solemnly informs us. “Autodigest arrived in the form of an encyclopaedia, an archeological sound document time-travelling out of a post-digital-meltdown landscape.” What in the name of Stephen Hawking does that mean?

Despite such off-putting pseudo-intellectual garbage, the music herein is really pretty good. Autodigest’s approach is simply to fragment everything he can get his hands on, and grind it into dust; through atomisation, he reaches into some new real of digital madness. Of the 12 tracks here, most are experiments in a series titled “Compression”. Only one is called an “Expansion”, a statistic which indicates he prefers the act of crushing to the act of building. Fear not however; it’s not a huge stitch-together patchwork from familiar musical sources, like John Oswald and his Plunderphonics. Rather, it’s mostly totally abstract digital noise. And what noise… vast cathedrals of nihilistic, oppressive din… nightmarish feelings are conveyed almost instantly. Events rush by at 100 mph, suggesting information overload squeezed down a narrow digital pipe… ghastly bass throbs, utterly unmusical, underpin everything in this crazy-house architecture, while liberal use of digital echo delineates enormous spaces. Good, massy and waighty sound art; delivered with dynamics which are often-times quite remarkable. I hate remix culture, but this goes beyond the rim of remixing and moves into another totally horrifying space.

I’m not inclined to find out any more about this guy. Printed credit simply read “Written and composed by everyone” but “Mixed, compressed and expanded by Autodigest”. It’s my guess that he’s trying to pack as much substance as he possible can into concentrated lumps of poisonous boiled sweets, like Spangles laced with arsenic. The internal mock-triptych image inside is particularly sardonic; there’s a priest at high mass, hands raised, about to consecrate the sacred host. But his eyes are hidden by a superimposed black shape wich contains a stained glass window. This image is flanked by two rag dolls, so scrappy that even Mike Kelley would reject them, more like something from primitive, rural witchcraft. In all, a fairly singular statement, startling, alarming and quite subversive in intent; it drives another nail into the coffin of Western civilization.

Ed Pinsent

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by Bodyspace

A priori de qualquer ensaio que seja útil elaborar em redor de A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol.1, é importante dar conta do carácter muito pouco personalizado que um objecto como este álbum encerra. “Written and composed by everyone”, lê-se a dada altura no package do disco. O que é, então, Autodigest? Mais não é do que “uma simulação de processos de implosão cultural”, o que imprime ao disco um carácter que não lhe permite ser inscrito num qualquer período temporal ou espaço físico. Nasce, também por isso, numa época que não é a sua, porque nenhuma o é.

Posto isto, passemos ao que realmente interessa. O título é estranho. A música também, mas de uma estranheza diferente. A linha convencionou-se apelidar de avant-garde ou electrónica inteligente, e raramente deixa moças latejantes de sentimentos profundos. É cerebral, pensada e criada em frente ao laptop de máquinas que foram feitas para obedecer a comandos. Não que perca quaisquer pontos por isso, antes dificulta a sua audição, que parece não querer revelar-se demasiado rapidamente e se esconde timidamente por detrás de sombras e vultos difusos. Quando se revela, deixa quase sempre marcas profundas. Como num impacto, os estilhaços rebentam, saltam e voam. Sempre ao ritmo dos sons. O título, “A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded”, é curioso e enquadra-se num conceito imaginativo. Comprimir toda a história da música gravada (que é, essencialmente, a do séc. XX e início de séc. XXI) em pouco menos do que 1 hora pode parecer tarefa impossível. Mas apesar disso, dizemos nós, este disco representa também toda a música que ainda está por gravar. Os sons comportam amplitudes extensas e quando não fazem doer os ouvidos, não se tem a certeza se de facto se está a ouvir alguma coisa.

No final, um pequeno vídeo deixa a pairar no ar uma ideia de antítese face a tudo o que se ouviu antes. Depois da crónica burlesca, da confusão amoral e da experimentação total, uma faixa multimédia, quase sempre silenciosa e quase sempre escura – só o deixa de ser por menos de 1 segundo, quase no final, para não se entender muito bem o que é mostrado – de seu nome “A Possible Antidote” é como que um tratamento de choque. Depois da tempestade, a bonança.

Tiago Gonçalves

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by The Wire

Referencing postmodern theorist David Harvey’s concept of “time-space compression” as well as a soupçon of Jean Baudrillard, Autodigest can be interpreted either as a sonic illustration of culture consuming itself or a kind of archive of byte sized flickers from the dying embers of cultural diversity, depending on each syllable you choose to stress in the word “digest”. Luckily for the listener, there is a lot more in this album than a neat idea. The sounds of whooshing datastreams sucked into the black hole of info meltdown may be horribly prescient conceptually, but they are great sounds nevertheless.

Keith Moliné

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by D-Side

Plus qu’un project, Autodigest est un concept porté à son point le plus extrême. Pas d’auteur, pas de dates et pas de lieu de naissance. Juste une ambition démesurée, celle de compiler tout ce qui a jamais été enregistré par l’être humain.

On se doute, musicalement, le résultat n’a que peu de chances d’être reconnaisable, tant les procédures de compression appliquées ici ont été radicales. Décrit par ses non-auteurs comme l’equivalent sonore d’un trou noir, Autodigest s’em rapproche effectivement, tant on a l’impression de perdre pied, d’essayer en vain de comprendre un dialogue crépitant entre des milliards de processeurs éparpillés, tant les ralentis parfois brusques et les bribes vaguement audibles rendent l’ensemble à la fois crispant et intriguant, le summum étaint atteint par la simple second live de “60 Hours in One Second”. Ajoutez-y une “vidéo” (une minute d’ecan noir pour une simple image contenant probablement tout ce qui a jamais été filmé) et vous serez prêts à plonger au-delà du réel une fois pour toutes.

Jean-François Micard

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by Blow Up

L’idea è curiosa: comprimere all’inverosimile “tutto quanto sia stato mai registrato” in un’ora e un secondo, fino ad avere un risultato sonoro che si dichiara “una sorta di buco negro che ha assorbito ogni suono che sia stato fatto finora” e che nella realtà è un misto tra macelli di digital noise merzbowiano e rarefatta ambien isolazionista.

Ovviamente il responsabile della sigla Autodigest non sarà riuscito a portare a termine un’impresa simila ma già il fatto che lo dichiari – ovviamente citando anche Baudrillard nelle note – è di per sé un del segnale dell’imminente fine del mondo, per dirla con Michele Serra. Sublime è dir poco.

Stefano I. Bianchi

“On Paper” reviewed by Blitz

Parte-se então para novos processos de abstracção/concretização. É precisamente desta dicotomia entre a abstracção e a concretização que vive a compilação On Paper. É que, partindo de uma realidade concreta – o sample com papel a ser rasgado -, o seu processamento será sempre uma abstracção em relação a esta, bem como a construção de uma nova realidade concreta. Em suma, uma faixa que parta numa direcção mais abstracta em relação ao ponto de partida poderá também aproximar-se de uma realidade musicalmente mais concreta (ou não).

O exemplo pode ser materializado pelas duas faixas de b.Z_toneR; “Let’s Get Lost” atira para memórias recônditas a sua génese para se aproximar de terrenos convencionais, enquanto que “In and Out of Love” tem ainda os golpes desferidos no papel – sendo também uma faixa musicalmente mais abstracta. Na mesma linha temos o tema de Stephan Mathieu, circular como o silvo de um carrossel envolto em algodão doce (os rasgões andam lá longe, imperceptíveis). Com Vitor Joaquim acontece o mesmo, com o segundo tema, mais incisivo e rítmico, a adquirir uma maior personalidade.

Queremos com isto dizer que On Paper ganha claramente nos temas em que a consciência harmónica, rítmica ou até melódica toma os comandos, tornando-se quase invisível nos temas que se aproximem de realidades conceptuais/ambientais/sonoplásticas – riscar a(s) que não interesse(m). 6/10

Sérgio Gomes da Costa

“A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded, Vol. 1” reviewed by Kindamuzik

Pretentieuze titel natuurlijk, dat A Compressed History of Everything Ever Recorded. Kan uiteraard nooit kloppen, want niemand kan *alle* opnames die ooit gemaakt zijn bezitten. Misschien bedoelen ze (of hij of zij of wat dan ook, want Autodigest blijft hartstikke anoniem) alle opnames die zij gemaakt hebben. Wat dan weer een stuk plausibeler is, inderdaad.

Feit is wel dat de indrukwekkende stukken vol noise en drones volledig bestaan uit gecomprimeerde, versnelde opnames van totaal onherkenbare bronnen. Soms lijk je een individueel element uit deze donkergrijze brei te kunnen herkennen, maar neem van mij aan dat dat pure inbeelding is. Nee, deze verontrustende geluidssculpturen staan volledig op zichzelf, en door de enorme dichtheid en hectiek van het geluid is het album nogal een aanslag op het incasseringsvermogen. En dan mag er wel wat luchtigheid in verborgen zitten in de vorm van titels als ‘Compression 7 (Oops I Mixed It Again)’ of ’60 Hours In 1 Second (live in Stockholm, May 24, 2002)’, makkelijker beluisterbaar wordt het er niet door.

Beter toeven is het in het angstaanjagende, dertien minuten lange ‘Expansion’, dat op indrukwekkende manier zacht voortdronet en net zo makkelijk een soundtrack voor een obscure science-fiction zou kunnen zijn als voor de dromen van een waanzinnige. Brrr, om bang van te worden… Toch, als de rest van het album ook zo was geweest hadden we hier te maken met een instant klassieker. Nu is het afwachten wat Vol.2 ons gaat brengen.

Bas Ickenroth