Take “La Noyée” (“The Drowned Woman”) for example, a peculiar work that may have been written in response to a song by Serge Gainsbourg and that incorporates creaking hull, lapping water, dogs, voice and carousel.  The unusual arrangement is reminiscent of This Mortal Coil’s “I Come and Stand at Every Door”, and its enigmatic nature enhances its emotional appeal.  Or “Rituel”, which features tribal drums, chanting, guitar, and a large swatch of the local avian population.  One can imagine the fog, the cliffs, and a certain giant gorilla.

Even if the words of Spanish conversation are foreign to listeners, their tone is verifiably benign.  Chilean workers file, scrape and saw on “Lointain”, honoring the title of the piece, which means “like a distant echo” ~ this French musical term describes music that is meant to be heard in the background, as it is here.  It’s odd to hear a drone and siren call behind field recordings, instead of atop them, but this choice honors the populace by putting them first.  Instead of Big Artist, Little Country, this is Big Country, Little Artist, a decision made more laudable by its voluntary quality.

The album closer makes extensive use of a spoken word narrative by Boris Lehman, who quotes (in French) the philosopher Gilles Deleuze:  ”To dream of islands – whether with joy or in fear – is to dream of pulling away, of being already separate, far from any continent, of being lost and alone – or to dream of starting from scratch, recreating, beginning anew.”  If Niebla is the sonic version of a travel essay, this philosophical piece is its central thesis.  For the artist, who has chosen “Island Mountain” as her recording moniker, the change has already begun.  (Richard Allen)

Niebla from myriampruvot on Vimeo.

Available here

‘In Heaven, everything is fine.

You’ve got your good things and you’ve got mine’.

Love is elusive; you can feel it, but you can’t touch the emotion, at least not in a physical way. Love is shy to show her face, preferring to stay out of sight for long periods. Her heavenly presence, guarded against the eyesight so as to be unseen, ensures that you can’t reach out a hand and embrace the emotion, but you can still feel the heat when she is there, surrounding all of you while lighting the match that will set your heart on fire. Like music, like romance, love can heal, change a heart and change a life; the touch of a loved one is found in an arc of a thousand smiles. In this vale of tears, sensual kisses are left to sustain, lovingly left lingering, staying a little longer on the skin in her long reaches of delay and reverb. Love is here.

Bluhm are a dream couple, comprising of Tim Diagram and vocalist Genoveva. A shared love for music has brought them together; one passion, one devotion. In The Vale Of Tears is the outcome, finding itself on the very pretty Fluid Audio. And it isn’t just pretty music, it’s gorgeous. Atmospherically alive, the music looks through rose-coloured windows onto what could be Heaven itself. Lyrically sure, Genoveva’s voice is a sweet perfume, a playful fragrance that caresses the ambient layers with a beautiful vocal freedom; the same kind of freedom found in love.

Opener “The Mirror Of My Soul” soars immediately away, her soulful, soaring voice a kiss in the breeze, arriving at Oriental-influenced tones that echo outwards. Her voice then splashes softly into pools of lighter tones, like rose petals floating in romantic, scented waters as bubbles drift through the air. In The Vale Of Tears will drape a loving arm around your shoulder, consoling you with the potential of renewal, encouraging you forward and extracting any strand of prolonged melancholia as if it were a protruding thorn continuing to wound the flesh and the spirit. “Eventide” longs to let go, to be set free, sent into the light with the heart-felt words “release me” tugging at the sky. Hope can be found in the lucid atmosphere, which successfully avoids any dark clouds that may try to approach and upset the positive vibe.

You can’t have a little rainbow without a little rain; Bluhm understand that experiences shape us, be they negative or positive. Learning takes place, we develop, strengthen, carry on. In The Vale Of Tears charts the flip side, too – but only to show us how hope is formed. Bluhm are opening their hands as well as their hearts – upsetting times can make us appreciate what we have, and this appreciation burns the fuel that enables us to endure the dark, when the satiated smiles vanish and the tears fill valleys.

In The Vale Of Tears flutters on the winds of rejuvenation. Everything flows together; the music is a fountain, gushing clear, clean waters of radiant optimism and liberty. At points, the ambient breeze feels tropical in tonality; the cute, chirpy birdsong instills an even deeper sense of peace, respite and renewal. “As You Smiled And Passed Me By” still returns to a disappearance, a period when you fell in love, and love retreated. She is here now, haunting the backstreets of melancholic thoughts. The music always returns to healthy gardens, a sanctuary for lost valentines injured on battlefields. The music doesn’t think twice about the past. She can forgive it, but she also knows she will never forget it. Bluhm take the unsteady, brave steps forward, and instead of ruminating over love’s existence, they have chosen to believe.

In The Vale Of Tears is both lucid and absorbing. The music doesn’t so much wash over you as it does soak your skin with some lush ambient imagery. In The Vale Of Tears is romantic music that returns once again to the optimistic promise of life, love and the chance for renewal; for hope, when you thought it had faded, lit by the fire of love, lit by a new dawn. (James Catchpole)

Available here

The most amazing thing about Resonant is that it doesn’t sound like what might expect, given its sources.  The percussive “caged”, for example, sounds more like live drums than processed cages, while “glasses” sounds like xylophones in duet.  The ear is fooled because it expects to hear these sounds rather than the instruments used.  But musicians tend to hear everything as musical – cars, creaks, cutlery.  Thuoom’s EP occupies the vast area between the earliest, most primitive music (rocks, sticks, stretched animal hide) and the latest, most advanced (computerized algorithms), splitting the difference in a way that seems both familiar and foreign.

Give the artist credit for resisting the impulse to process everything beyond recognition.  While the opening piece, “yarn”, hides its sources well, the other tracks open them up for perusal.  ”glasses” in particular allows the sound of struck glass to resonate, dancing among keen electronic notes.  (This does, however, lead to a technical question: did the artist tap the glasses with the alarm clock or the bird cage?  If not, a spoon or drum stick is the fourth instrument.)

The logical next step would be a long-form work containing an even wider variety of implements.  A collaboration with Pawn would also seem a possibility.  Those who enjoy this release are urged to peruse the Textural Healing site to hear other wonders from Thuoom, ranging from ambient to drone to experimental guitar.  Dice, chopsticks, shelves, cameras, metal jars and copper paper also make guest appearances.  Cage would be proud.  (Richard Allen)

Available here

Ross Baker collages together some influential tracks alongside his own compositions and field-recordings to bring us out into the country.

MINI-INTERVIEW

Introduce yourself.  What do you do, where are you based?

I am Ross Baker, and currently reside in the rudest, least friendly part of the UK, a town called Maidstone in Kent.  It’s not ideal, but I’m hopefully moving to London soon as there’s a bit of an experimental music scene there and I’d really like to get involved.  I’ve lived so far away from any musical strongholds for such a time now that I’m completely out of touch with any real life musicians – I’ve only played one gig in the last few years, which is something I aim to correct soon!

I’ve been making music, in one form or another, since 1995, when I was ten.  Since my dad played me ‘Revolution 9′ by The Beatles at that age, I’ve been interested in creating sound collages – which involved a lot of tape mangling and radio abuse until I got my first computer a few years later.  For quite a while I hid behind the moniker Second Thought, which released five albums of ambient electronica.  At that point I was aiming to create imaginary soundtracks, using field recordings and samples to evoke certain atmospheres – directly inspired by the collaging of The Future Sound of London.  FSOL actually released my third album, Safernoc, on their FSOLDigital label, which was the biggest honour I can imagine.

At the end of 2011 I dropped the name and have been releasing music under my own name.  I’ve become more interested in creating music that’s more personal and nostalgic in sound, and utilises real gear rather than just my computer.  The hands-on approach makes the creative process a lot more fun, and a lot of my recent work has been recorded to four-track.  I’m currently saving up to get some more gear and hopefully leave the computer behind all together.

What are you main aesthetic  priorities?

My friend Andy Condon (who records as The Glimmer Room) and I have been discussing the concept of ‘ruralism’ lately.  The name refers to a political movement (a kind of socialist conservatism which favours an old-fashioned, community-based lifestyle centered around working the land) and an art movement which celebrated old fashioned, rural imagery.  We’ve both started labeling our music as ‘ruralist’, due to a shared interest in making music that is both nostalgic sounding and features natural field recordings.  My music often strays a bit further from the definition than his – as some of the tracks on this mix show!

That’s interesting.  I think there is a lot that is valuable in that perspective, as long as it doesn’t get too escapist.  We have a long  history of “pastoralism” here in North America that I don’t think Europe has much of a tradition of.  Colonial settler nations, ideas about religious freedom, and an incredible amount of open space.  But a lot of people fall into the fantasy of withdrawal, as if we’re not all interconnected.  Too often people in the big cities forget that as well.  So, how did you make the mix?  What holds it together?

Mind in the Shadow is an exploration of the darker, more ragged edges of ruralism – effectively where nature is invaded by the modern day.  You’ll find piecing of gentle acoustic ambience in there – Mike Oldfield, EL Heath, FSOL etc. – but also harsher sounds, such as the Underworld track.  I’ve always had a fascination with things that seem strangely out of place, which sits quite nicely with my collage approach to composition and arranging, I suppose.  I’ve always enjoyed the sinister mystery of seeing strange, unidentified buildings on their own in the distance, surrounded by fields.  Is something sinister going on inside them?  Well, no, probably not, but I was brought up on The X Files and Jon Pertwee-era Doctor Who, so I’ve always been inclined to think that maybe there is…

The mix itself was collaged together in a similar manner to my music, using field recordings to blend the tracks, along with samples from various films and old radio shows.  I’ve also used elements of my forthcoming album, Terra Incognita, to stitch the mix together.  The album explores very similar themes to those I mentioned about the mix, so these elements seemed fitting.

Thank you to A Closer Listen for all the support over the last couple of years!  A wonderful site which has introduced me to so much great new music.

TRACKLIST

Ross Baker – Terra Incognita (Unreleased)

Tangerine Dream – Zen Garden (Le Parc / Jive Electro)

Winter of the World – The Few Ups and Many Downs of the 21st Century (Unreleased)

Karl Hyde – The Boy With the Jigsaw Puzzle Fingers (Edgeland / UWLive)

Ross Baker – Where Will We Go When the Roads Have All Cracked? (Unreleased)

Off Land – Records (Circadian / Test Tube)

Wir – So and Slow it Goes (The First Letter / Mute)

Ross Baker – Safernoc (Safernoc / FSOLDigital)

Burial – Ashtray Wasp (Kindred / Hyperdub)

Ross Baker – Terra Incognita (Unreleased)

The Future Sound of London – A Glitch in Cellular Memory (Environments 3 / FSOLDigital)

Brian Eno – Becalmed (Another Green World / EG)

Limmy – Millport

The Conet Project

Underworld – Pearl’s Girl (Tin There) (Pearl’s Girl / JBO)

Virlyn – Kristal (Man Asleep / ETALabel)

cubus – Fur Alali (Fur Alali / Jerky Oats)

Siouxsie and the Banshees – She’s a Carnival (A Kiss in the Dreamhouse / Polydor)

EL Heath – Snailbeach District Railway (Snailbeach Mines Trust / Wayside and Woodland)

Ross Baker – Almost Frozen (Eyebrook / Bumpfoot)

Ross Baker – May (I) (May / Self-released)

The Future Sound of London – The Wheel of Life (Environments 4 / FSOLDigital)

Ross Baker – Terra Incognita (Unreleased)

Mike Oldfield – Woodhenge (Platinum / Virgin)

Family – See Through Windows (Music in a Doll’s House / Reprise)

Jack Anderton – Somewhere Sealed (Archive I: Ambient Acoustic / Jerky Oats)

Intelligent Communication – Drive (Principals of Motion / Jumpin’ & Pumpin’)

Xan Alexander – Particle (Quantum Waves / AmbientLive)

Current 93 – Planet (Honeysuckle Aeons / Coptic Cat)

Ross Baker – Terra Incognita (Unreleased)

Giles Corey – Nobody’s Ever Going to Want Me (Giles Corey / Enemies List)

Orbital – Belfast (Orbital / Internal)

]]> http://acloserlisten.com/2013/06/17/lcnl-027-ross-baker-presents-mind-in-the-shadow-mix/feed/ 0 Mind-in-the-Shadow(1) thenewobjective Mind-in-the-Shadow(1) http://acloserlisten.com/2013/06/17/marihiko-hara-flora/ http://acloserlisten.com/2013/06/17/marihiko-hara-flora/#comments Mon, 17 Jun 2013 00:01:50 +0000 postrockcafe http://acloserlisten.com/?p=14495 ]]> The latest release from Drone Sweet Drone contains a tiny bit of drone, but it’s not a drone album.  Instead, Flora is a humble collection of piano pieces, the fifth solo album from Kyoto’s Marihiko Hara.  Hara calls the disc ”a collective of sounds nearest to my heart”. His combination of simple titles (“Forest”, “Camera”, “Lake”, “Ocean”, “Curtain”, “Boat”), tender playing and light field recordings prompts one to imagine the scoring of one’s own favorite things.

This is unobtrusive music, gentle and mild.  Hara’s pieces are like the light rain that falls among the mist, watering flowers without drenching them.  Occasional electronics provide a slight edge, saving the album from total placidity.  Hara varies the space between notes, ranging from playful and full (“Mémoire”) to Zenlike and sparse (“Forest”).  Only on the eight-minute “Ocean” (equal to the four shortest tracks combined) does the piano take a back seat, allowing an introverted drone to emerge.  Ironically, the piece serves as a bridge between two shores, spanning the center of the album like a deep breath.

Children are birds are also included, elements that most people enjoy but that seem out of place here. One would rather hear the sounds of the scored subject ~ an aperture, an oar.  Perhaps it’s forgivable to hear a door instead of a curtain on “Curtain”, simply because curtains tend to be inaudible, but the slow drawing back of fabric might have been an eloquent addition.  The listeners knows these sounds are close to Hara’s heart; but a universal connection would be even more effective.  “Boat” is Flora‘s most evocative piece as it contains the most distinctive timbre, a smudge of static and submersion. The center backwash drowns the piano in salt and rippled distortion.  We hope Hara will investigate this direction further; more tracks like this, and the mist will become a downpour.  (Richard Allen)

Available here>

But if Varanasi is intensely spiritual, it is also intensely musical.  Few field recordings capture so many chants, snatches of songs, and ritual instruments.  The streets are awash in notes that filter through the air like scents.  Listening is like passing through a bazaar and a temple at the same time.  At any time, the next strain of filtered melody or struck bell awaits, joined by individual and group singing.  Perhaps the oddest sound to Western ears is the happy chant, “Jai Ho” (“Let there be victory”), as it was popularized in a homogenized version by the Pussycat Dolls a few years back. This, however, is the real thing.

Animals and other creatures play an important role in the recording as well.  Cows are heard on various tracks, as well as bats, birds, insects, monkeys, dogs and frogs.  ”I was very happy with the frogs”, writes Koper.  In Hindu life, what is ordinary to others becomes sacred; all life is intertwined. But an appreciation for life is most clearly felt in moments that merge the traditionally holy with the secular sublime ~ the massed cymbals of “Aarti puja and the harmony in chaos” joined by a child’s voice demonstrates a lack of internal conflict.  In other cultures, the child would be hushed, and this admonition would become the discordant note.  As the ceremony continues, it sounds like a parade.

Where there is death, there is sadness, but a belief in reincarnation allows Hindus to celebrate anew. In this sense, the culture is loosely connected with that of New Orleans, in which a funeral procession provides an opportunity for joy.  When the veil between this world and the next (or more accurately, the concurrent) is thin, the heart is able to make the leap.  Listening to Ancient Pulsations, one begins to think, we sing goodbye, we sing hello, and all of creation sings along.  When a bicycle bell sounds at the beginning of “Boat sir”, does an angel get its wings?  Perhaps the angel is riding the bicycle. Where heaven and earth are intertwined, anything is possible.  (Richard Allen)

Available here

the silence was warm vol.4 

When seventeen artists are involved on sixteen tracks, something is needed to tie them together.  As he did on the Trust compilation, Rudi Arapahoe contributes the pristine mastering; he also leads off the set with a vocal collaboration.  While those unfamiliar with the native tongue may not understand the words, the track sets a contemplative mood, and the title ~ “to paint breath on air” ~ implies a calm demeanor.  Many other ACL-familiar names grace the compilation as well.  Wil Bolton‘s “haze” would be at home on any one of his recent albums, while Pawn‘s upbeat “re-painted wall” adds swirl to the artist’s trademarked stuttered electronics, stopping in the middle for a strange tea break.  David Newlyn‘s cello-laced “empathy” utilizes distant chants to unsettling effect; Giulio Aldinucci‘s “travertino” provides kind contrast with field recordings collected in Italy. When strings join the fray, the album reaches an early peak.  Maps & Diagrams highlights bells and drones on “glossolalia”, one of his most immediate recordings to date, while the reliable Hopeless Local Marching Band picks up right where it left off last year with calliope noises interrupted by a swift burst of metal and slowly impinging strings.  ”incremental threshold” is the best track on here, as well as the least ambient; as the penultimate track, it’s well-placed.

Of the artists new to ACL, only Shotahirama makes a poor impression; fourteen seconds of Scanner-esque dialogue is an odd way to introduce one’s self.  In contrast, Silmus makes the most of two and a half minutes with gentle acoustic guitar and shimmering wordless vox, and deathrowradio continues in the same vein two tracks later, sounding nothing like its name.  With so many artists needing exposure, Kentaro Togawa’s ear for new music is a boon.  Making money is not the point; it’s all about the celebration of well-known artists and the discovery of the new.  At this price, there’s no way to go wrong.  (Richard Allen)

Available here

It’s another sunny afternoon as I’m listening to Witxes‘ new album and the music is having a similar effect on me; the birds may be chirruping outside, the smell of barbecues will soon be filtering through open windows, children are no doubt splashing in paddling pools and yet, thanks to the soundtrack provided by A Fabric of Beliefs I am wracked with doubt and uncertainty; the outside is a threatening place where fire could suddenly flare up, out of control; a child could slip in the pool and drown; a bird might fly in the open windows and become trapped, possibly attacking the human inside…  Irrational notions – probably – but ones that feel all too real when listening to long passages of this album.

This is a darker, more claustrophobic album than its predecessor; the drones and textures feel more oppressive, the jazz elements sound like the music played in the elevator descending to hell. The songs are more fractured, in a way; elements fall out of tracks and creep back in elsewhere, there are sudden, unpredictable pauses, a drummer flurries away with his brushes but there’s nobody else playing with him.  Even the brief moments when the tension eases – such as the handclaps on “The Weavers” – have sinister undercurrents; they aren’t the claps of joy and release, but sound like forced rhythm practice in a heavily-disciplined environment.  Ten tracks of this is leavened by “The Words” where Maxime Vavasseur grabs his guitar and sits down in front of the microphone.  It is a tentative work, threatening to collapse at any moment; the lyrics tie the track titles together to the extent that the word ‘concept’ might be used to describe the album; then there’s proper release in the closing “The Moonlight Passage”, where the choral synth seems to lift us from this sphere of existence to another level.

A Fabric of Beliefs is a brilliantly put together album, with the closing tracks somehow erasing the sense of fear and paranoia that is prevalent in the previous 45 minutes or so and making it a record that you’d want to play again straight-away.  It is a mark of the confidence and skill of Witxes that he is able to produce a sequence of darkly compelling pieces, and then lighten the mood with equal conviction.  I wrote that his previous album was magnificent – this is better.  Time to put the superlatives to one side – you need this record. (Jeremy Bye)

Available here