The concept is simple: “365 sonic sketches, one a day for a year, each supported by an image, a video or a text”. Many artists have attempted such projects, but few have even made it to February. The London-based duo In a Sleeping Mood have gone deep into their second month, so now they’ve won our attention.
“Write something every day” is common advice for writers. This practice keeps the creative waters flowing. “Publish something every day” is a different story. Exposing one’s art to the world on a daily basis sets one up for both harsh and gentle judgement. I should know; followers of this site know that I produce, on average, one review each day. Some days inspiration is slow to come; other days it wells up like a fountain. Not every review will be spectacular; some will be average, and others below average. If I am fortunate, I will at least achieve a certain standard. I can relate to what In a Sleeping Mood is attempting to accomplish, and appreciate the work that goes into such an effort. The “twist” is the duo’s story is its attempt to do two things at once when one might have been sufficient: a bonus that by December will have taxed their reserves, but a challenge that may bring out their best, and perhaps the best in others who have signed up to collaborate.
Musically, the sketches fall into the electronic/experimental realm occupied Autechre and the Mille Plateux roster. The average length is one minute, and the best way to hear all of the sketches in order is to go to the Bandcamp page and simply press Play. The mood is mysterious and otherworldly; this is a duo in love with pattern and sound, and if listeners decide that they like some more than others, In a Sleeping Mood would likely be happy to know why. Instead of asking, “What’s in a word?”, they prompt listeners to ask, “What’s in a sound?” It’s amazing to note just how quickly one can make up one’s mind about a sketch – but of course we’ve all been doing this for years, deciding on the basis of snippets whether or not to order albums online. The difference is that these are not snippets, but sketches, short yet complete. Personal favorites from the first 36 include “Sketch 10” (a percussive piece suitable for an ADD dancefloor), “Sketch 13” (where did this post-rock come from?), “Sketch 27” (shades of Nils Frahm) and “Sketch 31” (a drone with glitch ambitions).
Switch to the video component and the experience takes on a different dimension. With two senses now engaged, one’s appreciation morphs. There’s always a danger that video accompaniment will trump original sounds, dwarfing through association. (For example, a music video may contain images so memorable that the original song can no longer be heard without the imprinted visual memory.) In a Sleeping Mood uses patterns to reflect patterns, a wise choice that retains the sense of abstraction. Even so, some attempts are more memorable than others; a few are included below.
Diluted Sounds is a laudable and ambitious project, and we’re curious to see how it will turn out. Simply getting through the year will be quite an accomplishment, a touchstone that will certainly deserve its own flash drive edition. We offer our encouragement, high hopes and good wishes. (Richard Allen)
Website (with links to Bandcamp, YouTube, Twitter and more)
a closer listen 