Zero
Ohms, Sweven and
Unafraid of the Impending Silence
There
is a potent dichotomy at work in the music of Zero Ohms (secret identity:
Richard J. Roberts). On one side there is the brain-massaging softness
of Ohm's signature wind-synth drones. Undeniably relaxing, they form the
basis for all his music, the undulant canvas on which Ohms overlays traditional
flutes from around the world, processed sounds, and samples. And that's
where the other side comes in. While your mind tries to relax, Ohms challenges
it with textures and sound-images that range from conversational voices
existing just below the drone-surface to clashing metallic sounds that
rise up only to resonate back down into a pleasing harmonic addition.
This is headphone music. It is pay-attention-and-you-will-be-rewarded
music, with some layers so dense that subtler touches come to you from
what seems like a great distance. It is music that asks to be understood.
The
dichotomy is best exemplified, I think, by two contrasting albums: Sweven
and Unafraid of the Impending Silence.
Unafraid
is the gentler of the two. Upon first listening to this, I was immediately
taken back to a whitewater rafting trip in Maine. After we'd cleared the
rapids and emerged into calm water, we were allowed to get out of the
rafts and swim. I eased myself into the river and let the current take
me. There was nothing but the touch of the water and the wind, a soft
sense of motion, and each time I opened my eyes, there was only blue sky
and treetops lazing past me.
This
is the sensation Unafraid gives. The wind-synth drone is the warm
amniotic current that bears you along. Soft burbling sounds, some bordering
on mechanical, some like the echo of a temple bell, all reminiscent of
water, ease past. Hints of sound peer out of the flow...the aforementioned
voices, half-heard through the veil of the last few moments of sleep;
here and there, the calls of birds and a far-off flute melody. There is
nothing along the way to jar the listener. There are no rough edges. There
is no need to leave the river until the end.
By
contrast, Sweven is darker and more complex, in places pushing
at the borders of musicality. Ohms plays with the listener, offering relaxing
weaves of sound one moment and edged, intrusive composition the next. Pieces
such as "Eternal Nows," where clattering synth riffs coexist
with church-reverent voices and electronic detritus under a bass-rumble
drone and "Sonic Wind" with its harsh, dissonant flute runs
give way to the gossamer beauty of "Nikwasi and the Immortal"
and "Poetics of Space"--but even here, sonic suggestions lurk
in the far backgrounds, continuing to challenge the listener. Sweven
is a trial by musical fire with a goblet of heavenly nectar waiting
at the end.
There's
no need to set aside time to listen to John Broaddus' 4 at 18.
Start the CD and the music will, of its own accord, manipulate the fabric
of time to carve out a place in which you'll comfortably exist as these
four ambient pieces, each a touch over 18 minutes long, move lazily around
you. This is a CD of glacial-drift chord changes and sleeping-breath swells,
a subtle journey with no determinate destination.
The
album's strength is in the varying textures of the four pieces. (There's
a temptation to refer to them as "movements" in this slow-motion
symphony.) "One" grows from an insistent drone borne on a stellar-wind
backdrop; this is the one that creates that temporal hiding spot, slows
the breathing and begins the drift. "Two" opens with a resonant
pulse that at first threatens to undermine the ease of the first track.
The sound initially borders on intrusive, if not a bit tough to listen
to, but as it evolves, it begins to shimmer and take on a certain liquidity.
Late in the piece there is the sensation of perceiving the sounds through
a curtain of water. "Three" moves the emphasis from ethereal
to tangible; the solidity of a temple bell adds a sense of rhythm to the
flow. And "Four" slides back into the drift, familiarly combining
the the dark drone that opens the work with the wavering tones of "Two"
to close the circle and bring the voyage to a pleasing end.
All
in all, this is a CD of discreet beauty that gets better with each deeper
listen.
For more information, visit www.parnassusnump.com This release will be followed in Spring 2004 by the next in the series,
"21 at 3."
Budding
ambient/electronic artists, pay attention. Brannan Lane is showing
you how to wisely broaden your audience. In the world of electronic
music, where big-label deals border on mythical and self-distribution
and word-of-mouth are a musician's best friends, what could possibly
work better to introduce yourself to a new audience than to load
a dozen of your richest pieces onto a CD and hand it out for three
dollars?
This is precisely what Lane has done with his new Sampler CD offered
through his Web site at www.brannanlane.com.
Originally offered to radio stations, the disc culls tracks from
seven Lane recordings and truly shows the artist's range and depth.
From the deep, soul-resonating bass drones that open the disc
("Mesosphere") to the soft elemental murmurings of "The
Relaxing Effects of Water" at the end, this is a collection
that grabs hold early and doesn't let go. The sensations range
from innerspace floatation to welcome immersion in darkness. From
soothing to challenging. Levels of sound gently layer one atop
the other, paying dividends to the careful listener over and above
what can be found from hearing just the lusciously crafted surface.
Perhaps the best cuts (for this reviewer) come from Lane's CD
"The Lost Caverns of Thera." These pieces offer a downward
stairway for braver listeners—"Thera" being Greek for
"fear." These soundworlds are at once demanding, immersive,
and exhilarating.
I initially ordered the Sampler for three reasons: 1) It was three
bucks, 2) I'm savagely curious about electronic music, especially
from artists with whom I'm unfamiliar, and 3) I'm notoriously
cheap. But Brannan Lane's ploy has worked on me. The Sampler introduced
me to his considerable talent and, thanks to the list of recordings
he cleverly packs along with the disc, I'm looking at ordering
quite a bit more. Pick up this CD and you will, too.
Current,
“Communion”
Typically
when I encounter an electronic artist who's new to me, I go into
that first listen hoping I'll hear something new or challenging—something
that prompts me to re-think my view of what the genre has to offer.
But sometimes discovering a work that is pleasantly familiar,
with an undercurrent of newness, can also be enjoyable.
Which is where I found myself upon listening to "Communion,"
the third album from
Current (secret identity: Robert Solheim). A workable if slightly
uncertain-of-itself melding of chill-out and techno, with an edge
of late-80s electronic sensibilities tossed in for good measure,
the album has a welcoming feel to it. Hints of Tangerine Dream
(particularly in the first few moments of "Ghost Trip")
and Jean Michel Jarre peek out of the arrangements. And just when
you're starting to think you've heard it before, Current adds
his own touch to move it just left of typical.
This is an album of comfortable, accessible grooves wrapped around
spacey atmospherics. The shorter pieces, such as "Sign/Alien,"
"Sign/Human," and "In the Frame" tend to stay
on the deeper, softer side, contrasting nicely with the upbeat
tech of the longer tracks. While Current's label is pushing "Ghost
Trip" as the CD's standout song, the best tracks here are
"Sunday Sunburn," which shifts effortlessly from an
easy chill to a high-BPM joyride, "Alone with Company,"
which features some ear-catching processing, and "Minor Abstraction"
with its jazzy backbeat and easy flow.
There may be no big surprises in "Communion," but Current
has created a smooth, enjoyable listen that will find a home in
any chill-out or spacemusic fan's collection.
If
you're a fan of
Steve Roach, listening to his latest release, the sampler
"Space and Time: An Introduction to the Soundworlds of Steve
Roach," is like getting together with friends you haven't
seen in a while. It's good to see them, good memories come flooding
back, and some of them look better than you remember. And if you
don't happen to own everything this prolific artist has put out,
those friends bring some of their friends; good-looking acquaintances
who you immediately get along with and want to find out more about.
Pulling pieces from 13 different albums and seamlessly melding
them into a 74-minute whole, "Space and Time" makes
either a perfect introduction, as the subtitle suggests, or a
delicious retrospective for seasoned listeners. Drawing a continuous
line through rhythmic tribal works such as "Early Dawn"
from "Early Man" and "The Calling" from "Trance
Spirits" to soft atmospheric swells such as "Almost
Touching" from "Streams & Currents" and the
closing track "Nameless" from 2003's "Mystic Chords
and Sacred Spaces," the CD is less of a listen than a journey—and
one that bears going on again and again. Given the range of styles
and impressions presented, this disk will surely hook the curious
newcomer.
For the seasoned Roachian traveler, however, the brevity of the
individual pieces can be a touch maddening. Outside of the 12-minute
slice from "Structures from Silence" and the 7-minute
peek at the upcoming "Fever Dream" (more on that in
a moment), four and a half minutes is the most we get of any single
track. That's tough to take if, like me, you've got a personal
favorite listed here—"A Circular Ceremony" from "Dreamtime
Return"—and just as you're sliding into it, it fades out.
But the blending is so smooth, and each piece moves so gently
and organically one to the next, the irritation quickly fades
and we're back on the journey.
The real draw for the veteran is "Fever Glimpse," the
sneak preview of "Fever Dream." By itself well worth
the $5 sticker price on this CD, "Glimpse" pulls the
drum-based intensity of "Trance Spirits" into the dark
swirls of "InnerZone," intermittently laced with an
insistent bass riff (on guitar at some points?). Call it deep
funk, tribal groove...whatever you call it, it does exactly what
Roach
intends—whets the slavering appetite for this next full-length
release.
Whether you buy this for yourself to add an interesting blended
work to your collection, or for a friend who hasn't quite figured
out what the big deal about Steve Roach is, "Space and Time"
is an offer you shouldn't pass up.
Larry
Kucharz, Ambient Red Washes
The
word "wash" carries many connotations: an immersion;
fluidity; broad brushstrokes of color; cleansing. All of these
apply to Larry Kucharz's latest release, "Ambient Red Washes."
These eleven
languidly minimal pieces move like wind-stirred water. It is true
ambient music, stuff that imposes itself on your mind for a few
passing moments before settling in to become and enhance the background.
Kucharz's work has a depth that doesn't challenge the listener
to discover it; it exists for them, readily seen from the surface,
but also offering the opportunity to drill down deeper. It is
music you can almost literally look into--to watch the composer
at work as he establishes the interwoven relationships of each
synth wave.
"Ambient
Red Washes" contains four 10-year-old pieces in addition
to the eight new movements. While these sometimes feel thinner
than their 2003 counterparts, they meld nicely into the flow to
complete the whole. The contrast also shows how Kucharz has evolved
as a composer, and how much more richness his later work contains.
My one downside on this album is that Kucharz sometimes uses a
heavy hand at the end of a piece, cutting it off abruptly rather
than allowing it to fade as naturally as it arose.
Overall, "Ambient
Red Washes" is time well spent, eyes closed and headphones
on, immersed in the pigmentation of Kucharz's composition, emerging
soothed, cleansed, and ready to go back again.
Given
the title, cover art, song titles, and overall feel of Brannan
Lane and Ashera's Sextant, a review with a particularly
nautical theme is pretty much unavoidable. So be it. But given
Lane's penchant for and skill in carving complex, disturbingly
evocative, yet uncannily beautiful soundworlds, it's fair to say
that this sonic journey is no pleasure cruise--which isn't to
say it' s not pleasing. Indeed, it's a must-listen.
This
is a trip over dark, uncertain water to a strange place that exists
on no known map. There is a sense of constant cool fog filled
with whispers and sails billowing under phantom winds. The ship
seems to know the way--or perhaps there is no way at all, and
the only thing one can do is wait.
With
keyboards and midi guitars, Lane and Ashera (secret identity:
Anthony Wright) sculpt this journey in hues of peace and mystery.
Breathy synth work provides a delicate, calming base that the
duo drape in somber tones and atmospheric accents that become
the half-seen landscape on the trip. Each of the five pieces is
rich, fully developed, and packed with imagery. "A Very Large
Sail" appropriately starts the CD, billowing under those
demon winds. Lane and Ashera set their course's tone with this
long, densely packed piece, ripe with mystery and punctuated with
swells of expectancy. "Old Ghost Ship" approaches with
a distinct sense of wonder and just an air of trepidation. Still,
it fascinates in its passing. Deep atmospherics here lend a nice
supernatural tint as the piece moves in and out of an exploration
of darkness. "Budd's Boat" continues the mystery and
ups the ante on edginess, perfectly marking the halfway point
of the trip. On the title track and the closer, "The Navigator,"
the overall mood becomes lighter, with the uncertainty moving
to the edges, to the distance, and a sense of relieved wonder
rises from the musical narrative. With the very last moment of
the CD it becomes clear that the darkness has passed and the voyage
has been well worth it--as has been the time spent listening to
Sextant.
This
is a CD that will get a lot of repeat play, and each time the
journey will offer more. As I sat down to write this review, I
found that I simply had to listen to this album to continue
to discover its depth, intensity, and remarkable beauty.
There
is a small, unobtrusive note on the inside cover that suggests
playing this CD at a lowered volume. I would agree--but only after
you've gone through it at least once at a higher volume and with
headphones on so that you can better appreciate what these two
talented composers have put together here.
Composer
Stephen Van Handel is taking advantage of the do-it-yourself power
of electronic music and the Internet to reissue three of his CDs:
his 1986 debut, Les Pieces Pour Le Nouveau Monde, and
the follow-ups Chiaroscuro and Pearls of the Soul.
Les Pieces
and Chiaroscuro (1992) are well-crafted pieces that showcase
Van Handel’s bridging of classical sensibilities and New
Age style. Considering, as the liner notes point out, that they
were recorded on tape, "track at a time, sound at a time,"
they come off with an astounding professionalism and excellent
quality. The music here ranges from delicately contemplative songs
to work that borders on bombastic in its intensity—pieces
that almost seem to try too hard but can still hold a listener.
In between
the two is 1989’s astounding Pearls of the Soul.
Right from the start this CD is infused with a sense of release,
playfulness, and a need to explore. Lighter by far than the other
two works, Pearls combines Asian and Native American musical styles
and blends them neatly with some experimental touches. Consider
the tiny bits of electronic percussion that flit from side to
side in the opening track, “Asha, Awake,” sounding
at first like a glitch but resolving themselves into a vital component
of the piece.
In places,
Pearls carries echoes of Shadowfax, Mike Oldfield, or
Ray Lynch, repainted with Van Handel’s personal palette
and overlaid with the constant sense that the composer is just
having a damn fine time for himself. From the drum-driven world-groove
feel of “Winds of Nazca” and the joyful “Ese
Pequeno Sentimiento de Felicidad” to the softer, more ambient
touches of “Thunder Dance” (which is too good to be
so short!) and “Listening in Ancient Caves,” this
CD is a clear labor of love and a pleasure to listen to. The only
mis-step here is the anthemic and bold “Le Triumph,”
which would have been more at home on either of the other albums.
After that somewhat tangential piece Van Handel gets back into
the perfect slot he’s created with two more New Age-tinged
pieces and then closes the work with the blessedly lovely “Solace,”
a gentle piano piece that leaves the listener wanting more--not
just of this album, but of Van Handel’s increasing mastery
of the genre. A fourth album is promised, and I look forward to
its arrival.
Listening
to Jura is very much like getting a brain massage from
velvet-coated and slightly chilly fingers--it is at once relaxing
and scintillating. Built atop a ululating drone that seems to
know exactly what your backbrain needs to hear to make
it completely relax, Jura is an exercise in minimalism
punctuated with moments of straightforward melody. The drone wavers
and floats, virtually unchanging, broken only by a short handful
of touches on the piano that rear up and repeat intermittently.
Something in the tone of the piano and the way it works with the
drone suggests a kind of illicit, if not tryst-ish, meeting between
Brian Eno and Pink Floyd.
Given
the nearly constant quality of the under-drone and the repeated
patterns on the piano, Jura at times flirts with the
ragged edge of simply being repetitious. But something in the
movement in the piece, glacial though it is, manages to salvage
it and deliver a soothing bit of music that is ideal for background
listening or meditation.
To
find out more about Jura and the album reviewed below,
visit Suilven
Recordings.
While
this extended piece has all the earmarks of spacemusic, it is
perhaps more accurate to refer to it as "time music."
Here the composer isn't launching the listener into the depths
of the cosmos; rather, he's offering a look at the space between
moments and the possibilities that exist therein.
Working
from what he calls a "pedestrian melody," Crowell proceeds
to stretch the tune across the full 60-plus minutes of the CD,
with the changes between notes a matter of minutes rather than
milliseconds. That gap becomes a thematic exploration and gives
Crowell time to pull and twist the melody in any number of quite
satisfying directions.
I
have to say that at first I worried. The CD opens with a repeating,
downward-twittering synth run that smacks of early analog music,
and it left me wondering if I was about to be "treated"
to a Jean-Michael Jarre tribute. But as Crowell buries that establishing
theme under a growing, smooth pulse, the true intent rises to
the surface and the exploration is underway.
Like
its Suilven Recordings companion Jura, this is superb
backdrop music, but it also tends to suddenly swell up in majestically
bold passages. In quieter moments, drones linger like ripples
on a lake and the subtle shifts in tone and intent come like undisturbing
wake-up calls, bringing your attention back around to what's been
going on while you were busy zoning out to this superb piece of
work.
If
you put two half-mad alchemists in one room with all their gear
and leave them alone for an hour, something’s bound to happen.
If those alchemists happen to be sonic masters Steve Roach and
Vidna Obmana, the result is Spirit Dome, a live, improvised
73-minute excursion into dark organic spaces and breathtaking
musical complexity.
Recorded straight
to master at 1 am as the pair were preparing for a concert appearance,
Spirit Dome wends its way downward through the listener’s
consciousness into the primordial, serpentine landscape Roach
and Obmana have explored in past collaborations such as Well
of Souls and InnerZone. Together they sculpt a dimly
lit pathway to the lower world—a journey rich in layered
sounds and aural imagery. There is depth here, and distance; there
is grace and disturbance; there is peace and profound unease;
all existing perfectly in the same space.
It’s
important to keep in mind that this is a live recording, with
no dubbing or enhancing done in post production. This is Roach
and Obmana setting off on their own, pure, riffing off each other,
pulling skeins of sound together on the fly and weaving them into
a lushly dark tapestry. It is a testament to the near-ideal chemistry
the two musicians have developed over the course of their partnership.
The piece develops naturally under their skilled hands, growing
and recombining easily as it moves onward, elements dropping in
and quickly finding their place in the grand scheme. Drums work
their way into the flow, bringing a sense of tribe, and playful
electronic twitches dot the rolling landscape like a challenge.
What would
have made this perfect is if someone had thought to roll video.
Coming January 2004 from Projekt
Records
Numina,
Sanctuary of Dreams
With Sanctuary
of Dreams, Numina (secret identity: Jesse Sola) further solidifies
his reputation as a respected force in the ambient music field.
These 10 excursions are built on somber undertones, with ascendant
synth pads giving a a decidedly "upward" feel to them.
It's a very workable balance of light and dark, with some emphasis
on dark. Numina's soundworlds are lush and magnificently layered,
each a dream waiting to be interpreted. (Personal favorite: "In
Loneliness, the Landscape Fades," which possesses a very
mournful beauty.)
While the
pieces here are individual--bypassing the tendency of many ambient
artists these days to throw together one CD-length work--they
move easily one to the next, creating an air of wholeness. The
disk practically begs to be played on "Repeat."
Without making
any direct comparison, Sanctuary of Dreams is as good
as anything you'll find out there by "big name" ambient
artists. And with music like this consistently coming out of his
studio, it won't be long before Numina is one of those names himself.
Kurt
Michaels, Inner Worlds, part one
Fans of experimental
music may want to check out Kurt Michaels' Inner Worlds, part
one. On the other hand, those whose musical tastes don't
range too far afield may not find it appealing. Michaels describes
his work as "music by accident." Sometimes that's a
good thing; other times, it's simply an accident. Inner Worlds
seems at times to be looking for its identity. It wants to be
ambient; it wants to be noise; it wants to have a jazz feel. In
places it works quite well and there are bright moments, such
as the tribally driven "Nightmare Crossing Over," the
guitar-based "You Don't Say," and the first few minutes
of the title track. Indeed, what I wanted to hear more of was
Michaels' guitar work. On the whole, the mashed-together feel
that dominates this work left me wondering if there was something
I simply wasn't understanding.
Samples from
the CD are available on Michaels' Web site, www.kurtmichaels.com.
I'd suggest heading there first. For those folks who snack on
avant-garde sensibilities, this may be just the thing you're looking
for.
SourceCodeX,
Codex Hypnos
This CD is
a testament to the growing do-it-yourself mindset in ambient music.
Self-admittedly more of an enthusiast than an ambient artist,
SourceCodeX (secret identity John W. Patterson) went forth with
nothing more than a few computer programs and taught himself to
make electronic music. And the results, as gathered on this freshman
effort, make for a workable piece of dark listening. Patterson
carries the listener through tense, beatless soundscapes that
are unrelenting in their grimness. The drones are soothing in
a disturibing kind of way, and Patterson has layered his sounds
very well. There's a lot going on below the surface. It must be
said, however, that while what he has put together is fairly good,
nothing on the CD really stands out. But given this platform of
confidence to launch from--along with the handy whenever-you-feel-you're-ready
availability of making e-music--I rather expect to hear more and
better from SourceCodeX.
Lopside,
37
Inspiration.
It can come from just about anywhere. It’s all a question
of what you do with it when it comes. For example, Lopside (secret
identity: Dean Hinds) gets a second-hand pager from a friend.
It doesn’t work well, and one day as voicemail leaves 37
bursts of electronic noise. Dean clearly had two choices: get
angry and throw the foolish thing away, or record the sounds and
use them as the basis for a sonically engaging and inventive CD.
Thankfully
for us, Lopside went for the latter option and turned out “37,”
an addictive blend of downtempo grooves, uptempo power, and electronic
noise that is quite simply one of the best CDs I've heard in a
long time.
Standout pieces
here include the weirdly beautiful “to the point of obscurity”
and its follow-up track, “a million pieces,” where
Lopside exhibits his talent for effortlessly folding noise into
melody and making them work together. Every track morphs at some
point along the way, moving either from an easy flow to drum-driven
noisefunk, or from beat-heavy and sharp to beatless and soft--and
every time, the transition is organic, seamless, and effective.
Hinds' genius with noise and sound elements are most strongly
in effect on the title track, where many of the 37 sounds make
a cameo, and on "when all of my favorite moments have ended,"
which will have you getting up to check the CD player before you
realize how brilliantly the artist is using sharply cut sound
samples and edging them into the beat.
On top of
that, Lopside gets bonus points for naming his richly layered
closing drone piece "titling instrumental tracks seems ridiculous."
I'm very pleased
to name Lopside's 37 the first-ever Hypnagogue
Gotta-Get CD.Order it today at
www.lopside.net.
Aperus,
Hinterland CD5
Prior to receiving
this CD in the mail, I was unfamiliar with the work of Aperus
(secret identity: Brian McWilliams). Having experieced his music,
I fully intend to rectify that as soon as possible. Listening
to these five cuts, culled from alternate takes and portions of
songs from his full length CD, tumbleweed obfuscated by camera
failure, has a simply narcotic effect--knowing what it's
like leaves the listener needing more.
"Magnetism"
opens the CD with uncomplicated piano melody and minimal electronic
dressing,a piece lovely in its simplicity. We often talk about
influences and cross-influences in ambient music; this is like
genetically splicing George Winston and Brian Eno. It stands in
nice contrast to the starker, percussion-driven tribalism of "Earth
& Clay" and "Echo Canyon." The first rides
in on a funky bass groove, while the latter slips into pure slow
ambience with faint drums receding like night before dawn. The
closing track, "Vanishing Terrain," pulls many of the
elements of the other tracks together in a brooding, breathing
piece that firmly underscores the idea that, yes, you need more
Aperus.
There's only
one mis-step here: "Kaskaskia Canyon." A solely atmospheric
piece based on the sound of water dripping in a cave, it unfortunately
(to these ears) sounded like it was recorded in a men's room...if
you know what I'm saying.
But wait--there's
more! Pop this enhanced disc into your CD-ROM and you'll find
pictures and more music in MP3 format. You can check out the "experimental
mix" of "Earth & Clay" and an edit of "All
Good Things" from tumbleweed.
All in all,
hinterland is either a fine introduction to the music
of Aperus or a welcome addition to your Brian McWilliams/Remanence
collection.
This CD is
limited to 100 copies, and can be ordered online at AtmoWorks.
Alpha
Wave Movement, A Distant Signal and
Cosmology
Probably the
best thing I could do in this review is to tell you to stop reading
right now and just buy these CDs. You'd thank me, really. Because
Alpha Wave Movement (secret identity: Gregory Kyryluk) has turned
out a pair of eminently listenable pieces that neatly combine
spacemusic, chill, and solid electronic music.
A Distant
Signal is
the mellower of the two, a comfotable ride through space made
funky with smooth beats laid under weightless synth pads and melodies
laden with velvety hooks. It glides back and forth between soothing
drifts and impulse-drive sequencer moments. Standout tracks include
"A Place of Peace," which epitomizes the album's drift-to-groove
style, and the gentle "Portal Full of Stars," which
ushers in the final few tracks of the album, where AWM gives the
listener a dose of suspended-animation chill-out. And if I may
say so myself, "Requiem for C.S." should be making e-music
playlists everywhere.
The tunes
on Cosmology also vacillate between upbeat and downtempo,
with a strong bend towards upbeat. It's an infectious piece of
work that sounds at once familiar and fresh. I'd run out of ink
trying to list the influences at work here. "Prologue Sequence,"
which opens the disk, offers a strong homage to mid-80s Tangerine
Dream. It's Berlin School-style perfection, launched into space.
The second and third tracks continue that feel before the album
dips just slightly into three pieces that touch a little too closely
on a mid-80s New Age-ish feel for my tastes. However, AWM recovers
nicely and finishes off by offering the listener a comfy starcruiser
seat for the voyage back into the spacemusic realm with the quietly
lovely "Distant Edens."
Listening to the music
of DAC Crowell is a lot like peering deep inside the workings of a tiny,
possibly alien machine where nanoscopic gears move in strange, fascinating
concert. Sounds turn sounds turning images, turning impressions, making
something of nothing and still, no matter how hard you try, you cannot
figure out how it happens so seamlessly.
And so it is in this
latest untitled outing, teamed with fellow minimalist Kurt Doles
The centerpiece here
is "Rain Temple Garden," a 40-minute excursion into a luscious
drone ambient zone touched with the rhythm of light drumming and cave-echoing
liquid drops. The elements, insistent and unwavering, mix into a perfect
trance cocktail that sustains the journey. Even at this length, the piece
never seems to lose focus or intensity. There's something constantly going
on, and it's continually fascinating. This is virtually perfect ambient
music. (It's astounding to think that this piece, according to the CD
sleeve, has been around since 1994. Ten years was certainly too long to
keep it in hiding!)
The two other pieces,
Crowell's solo piece "Yankee Ridge" and the collaborative "In
Midsummer" are airy pieces that showcase Crowell and Doles' mastery
of this alien machinery. "Ridge" is the more hypnotically minimal
of the two, while "Midsummer" blends the sound of a simple,
distant piano with a slow, lovely, and slightly mournful melody for maximum
beauty.
Luckily for listeners,
this is just the first of a planned series of collaborations between the
artists.
Elegant and sensual,
Lost in Dust is a worthy heir to the Enigma/Deep Forest lineage.
Indeed, it's sort of "Enigma goes Middle Eastern, with danceable
beats wrapped around delicate, masterful piano work and whirling vocal
samples. It's music to get utterly lost in, music to surrender to. It
is, quite simply put, a soundtrack to an inevitable seduction. Ephermerid
should put a disclaimer on his CD that he is not responsible for any losses
of innocence that occur while this music is playing. It is potently passionate.
Among the best tracks
here are "Falling from Grace" and "Silk Floor"--although,
truth be told, there isn't a single piece here that isn't a joy to listen
to. Moods and tempos switch from song to song without ever losing the
cohesive Middle-Eastern thread that ties them all together. All in all,
a wonderful piece of work.
To me, the earmark
of a good--or even classic--ambient recording is its ability to be both
there and not there at the same time. Good ambient music takes on a sort
of symbiosis with the listener; it meshes fluidly with breathing and the
heartbeat and, in part, simply exists quietly and inobtrusively within
the same space. At the same time, it selects moments where it nudges itself
to the forefont of the relaxed mind to make its presence known and to
afford the listener more cognizant glimpses of its own beauty. Above all,
to be a classic recording, it must do so with simple ease and grace.
Soundfall to the
Infinite
is and does exactly that. Moving with perfect grace through three two-song
segments, Soundfall is a glorious exercise in minimalistic beauty.
Lane's keyboards and sound processing form a lush landscape over which
float Ohms' flutes and wind synths. The music takes its time in developing,
moving forward organically, the elements shifting constantly. Here, it's
Lane taking the forefront; there, Ohms' breathwork slides forward. It
is, like the music's meshing with the listener, a perfect symbiosis.
What works particularly
well here is that both artitst, to some degree, step away from the stylistic
choices that charcterize their other work--Lane from his beloved dark,
cavernous and shadow-filled soundworlds, and Ohms from challenging the
listener with practiced dissonance and edgy flute work. Rather, the two
here combine in marvelous subtletly.
The middle section
of the CD, the two pieces that comprise "Endless Land of Blue Mist,"
is perhaps the best of it. This is the point where you'll start to notice
that you've settled into a rhythm with the piece--and then quietly and
happily sink back into it. "Soundfall," the fifth track, is
pure meditative bliss, with a simple, repeating motif anchoring an airy
synth backdrop.
Relaxing, delightful,
and, from an ambient standpoint, virtually without flaws, Soundfall
to the Infinite is most decidedly a Hypnagogue Gotta-Get
CD.
You certainly can't
blame Steve Roach for wanting to get his funk on, even if it's just a
little funk. After a series of successful CDs exploring rhythmless soundworlds,
Roach returns to the beat with Fever Dreams Part One, where familiar
elements of his recent recordings hook back up with the subtle tribal
percussion elements from earlier pieces such as Dreamtime Return,
Early Man, and Truth and Beauty.
Roach has always worked
pure magic with the tribal sensibility, and Fever Dreams is no
exception. Here, soundworlds play a grounding role for the bass and drum
loops that take center stage. Each long track--the shortest of the four
running 10 and a half minutes--mixes laid-back grooves with a certain
sinister air--that serpentine, entrance-to-the-lower-world feel that while
at times dark is nonetheless forcibly soothing. Bass guitar from Patrick
O'Hearn and Will Merkle nicely anchor the first two tracks and lend that
tinge of funk that separates the CD from the latest stuff. Shamanic percussionist
Byron Metcalf adds frame drum on the last two tracks, including the nicely
understated "Tantra Mantra," which is bound to dredge some primitive
memory up out of your subconscious.
Kudos also to photographer
Michel Noel for the wonderful wraparound cover art that truly sets the
feel for the disjointed journey that lies within.
While at times Fever
Dreams feels like something you've heard before, some previously
visited soundworld but with drums, it is nevertheless another rich addition
to Roach's body of work--a piece that looks both forward and back at the
same time. Watch for two more parts of Fever Dream across 2004.
In his liner notes,
Dwight Ashley explains that he was somewhat reluctant to release the songs
on Discrete Carbon to the public because he felt they were personal--"a
tension release." Let's all be glad he changed his mind. Discrete
Carbon is elegant, challenging, and superbly crafted. Ashley spans
a range from soft, melodic pieces to lazy sine-wave drones to harsh, compelling
work that even its creator questions "whether it truly qualfie[s]
as music."
Case in point: the
third track, "Katalepsis." Here Ashley submerges a slow-moving,
almost mournful synth melody beneath a wave of unrelenting static. Musically
it is a truly relaxing piece, and while the mind and soul recognize that,
the nearly intrusive barrage of shifting white noise forces a constant
analysis of whether or not it belongs and what it actually adds. It is,
without question, effective--as are all of Ashley's sonic choices. Every
track has embedded elements that force the listener to take notice, along
with subtler nuances that enrich the experience.
Throughout this CD,
Ashley artistically intertwines music and non-music in an intoxicating,
narcotic blend that commands deeper listening for fuller appreciation.
It is dark, moody, and relentless in both its difficult complexity and
its shadowy beauty. If you are up to the challenge and can approach composition
with an open mind, Discrete Carbon will not disappoint.
Inspired by a trip
to the Canadian Rockies, Colin Rayment has produced a splendid blend of
drifting soundscapes and uptempo electronic excursions in his latest work,
Continental Divide. The first two cuts, "Glade" and
"Continental Divide," showcase what the listener is in for.
The former is a short, sighing introduction that gives way to the bolder
orchestral feel of the title track, nine and a half minutes of exultation.
From there Rayment delves into a quieter place tinged with the essence
of science fiction, emerging full-force on "Num-Ti-Jah" and
again on "Marble Canyon." While the spacier pieces, such as
"Repose" and "Damlan," are very well done, Rayment
truly hits his stride when he goes for a fuller sound and drives up the
beats.
Rayment credits his
friend Ash Stark for his bass guitar work on the album, and I concur.
Stark adds an architect's hand, creating a steady rhythmic foundation
for Rayment's keyboard explorations. Stark takes a front seat on the reflective
"Repose," lending a solid subtlety to the piece's gentle beauty.
DM Winn, under the
name Sonic Torture Methods, has turned out a decent suite of dark ambient
pieces with The Victim's Shudder. After an inauspicious start,
he hits his stride with the fourth cut, "Lucretia," which is
wonderfully gothic and grim and tinged with a moody beauty. Its follow-up,
"Eve of Perdition," features nice, inobtrusive vocal samples.
The CD ends with "Mourning Glory," which at times approaches
a level of bombast but salvages itself at the end by settling into a quieter,
more reflective tone that's more appealing in its comparative simplicity.
More information is
available from God
is Myth records.
Circular,
A Glass Darkly
This CD is packed
with the stuff that makes for great ambient music: a coy and sometimes
wayward musicality, a vacillation between silky downtempo grooves and
beatless explorations, and a periodic table's worth of stray sonic elements
folded into the mix like candy into ice cream. Slip in angelic vocals
from Elisabeth Lahr, and what you end up with is compelling listening.
Circular jam 17 quality
tracks onto this CD, each melded neatly end-to-end. The first half of
the CD stays in the beat-driven realm, offering up delectable cuts such
as the jazzy, vibraphone-toned "Time-Slip" (featuring Lahr),
which laces itself into "Jazz Kid," with a bebop bass line that
reads like the theme music for every tough punk in every late-50s movie
about a misunderstood rebel. Later in the CD the beats get scaled back
and the duo (secret IDs: Bjarte Andreassen and Jostein Dahl Gjelsvik)
easily blend in darker, more atmospheric and trippy pieces such as "Classico"
and "Cricket." The album closes with the beautiful, sequencer-driven
"Arp," an excellent ending for a such a great ambient effort.
All in all, A
Glass Darkly is a smooth and enjoyable sonic ride in classic ambient
style--and well worth checking out. Go to Circular's Web site at www.circular.no.
Will
Grega, Breath of Being
The word that jumps
to mind upon listening to Breath of Being is "contemplative."
That one word describes the tone of the music, the composition of each
song and the CD in totality, and the mindset it imparts to the listener.
Grega meshes a borderline New-Age feel to a delicately ambient atmosphere
to create a soothing, sometimes surprising, and eminently listenable piece
of work.
It's hard to single
out any one track, as all of the 11 cuts here stand out in some way. "Simplicity"
is perhaps one of the best, a slow-the-breathing piece with gentle electronic
treatments over a lovely repeating motif. This is where that contemplative
mood begins to set in, and Grega holds it there with a series of varied,
intriguing pieces. In fact the very next track, "ZaZen," also
builds on a repeating motif, but one that's more aggressively electronic,
bolstered by light percussion and surrounded by funky sound choices. It's
like a musical koan. "Dharma" is another brain-massage
bit of wavering electronic playfulness, and an ethereal church-organ backdrop
makes the blessedly lovely "Sacred" live up to its name.
Breath of Being
never falls
into the ambient music trap of sounding like itself. Taken seperately,
each track has its own distinct character, and Grega's pallet is clearly
very broad. Together, they form a constantly moving tapestry, seamlessly
woven together under the artist's hand.
I have
a friend who likes to say, "The problem I have with ambient music
is that I keep waiting for it to start." I have that problem, to
some degree, with Tranquility Base. While most of the pieces
eventually work their way up into a well-blended ambient groove, Huber's
almost-too-deliberate addition of individual elements--a melody fragment
here, a sound there--threatens to undermine the listening experience.
In fact, the repeated blips that open the album almost had me tearing
it out of the CD player in the first minute. Once Huber's pieces get up
to speed, they're quite enjoyable. But it's those first few minutes that
can be trying.
The best piece here
is "Serenitatis," a 20-minute tribally driven chill-out jaunt,
replete with drums and nightsounds to help walk you downward into a relaxing
darkness. This piece folds neatly into "Lunacy," which keeps
the easy groove flowing.
Because I am a writer
and editor by trade, I have to be just a bit nitpicky about packaging
here. I feel that if you're going to present yourself to the public as
a professional anything, that presentation must be as flawless
as possible. And while most people wouldn't so much as notice typographical
errors on a CD sleeve, the fact is that if they're there, they're there,
and they shouldn't be. Ambient artists, you have been warned!
Igneous
Flame, Oxana
Igenous Flame (secret
identity: Pete Kelly) is in no hurry. That's evident from the first rich,
drawn-out drones of his superb classic-ambient-style work, Oxana.
Over the course of its 14 elegant tracks, Oxana moves the listener
through glacially developing soundscapes that fold one into the next with
organic, crystalline precision. This is an album that certainly won't
give up all its secrets on a cursory listen, and will at times lull you
into those spots where you're not aware you're listening but are still
being affected at a deeper level by Kelly's thickly layered sonics.
While much of Oxana
is suffused with a distinct tonal warmth, something in the change
that moves the album from the ending of "Isolder" and into "Chant"
marks the latter track as one of the best--and warmest--on the CD. Its
stark, rising beauty catches my ear every time and stirs something inside
me--but it's certainly not the only spot where Kelly's music elicits a
reaction. Oxana closes with "Lost at Sea," where the
use of a staticky BBC shipping report slips under an ominous drone like
the strangely beautiful voice of a ghost. Oxana is a perfect
CD for meditation or simply realizing that now and then it's good to slow
down.
I'd be hard pressed
to categorize this CD under the label of "ambient," as the artist
does. Although A Thousand Years (secret identity Greg Pearson) works with
some soft electronic textures, most of the songs here infuse the electronica
with a solid pop sensibility that truly lends it more character. You don't
often get "hooks" in ambient music, but they're here. "Land
of the Living" is an uptempo guitar piece that leads nicely into
the more understated (and ambient) "Angel Overcome." And "See
the Spirits" is practically begging to be rounded out with lyrics
that would net it some radio airplay. This debut CD is an excellent piece
of guitar instrumental tunes cradled in a strong understanding of ambient
tones.
I am immersed in a
warm, comfortable current, drifting downward but unworried, unhurried.
Above me particles sparkle and dance in the blue-filtered slow-motion
sunlight. Shadows of life course past me, close enough to touch. I am
breathing, and in breathing, I am the water. I am....
....listening to the
brilliant, minimalistic beauty of Aquarium of the Deep Sea by
Brain Ballet (secret identity: Hidemasa Kondo), and I cannot help but
become wrapped in the music. Each short piece is a newly explored world
of quiet synthesizer, elegant piano, and deft electronic treatment, all
nicely carrying, in various ways, the CD's fluid, aquatic theme. There
are no sharp edges here, none of the drone-requisite darkness that at
times seems to clog the genre. Nothing here but a series of fully realized,
watery dreamscapes that fold readily one into the next for a truly relaxing
musical experience.
So dive into Aquarium
of the Deep Sea. You'll emerge refreshed and ready to go right back
in.
A blurb on the back
of this CD refers to the music as "aural sculpting meets the beat,"
but that doesn't quite come close to describing this infectious blend
of funky grooves, downtempo luster, and a playfully experimental sensibility.
cyberChump (secret identities: Jim Skeel and Mark G.E.) know the value
of a body-bouncing bass line and how to blend it with floating melodics
for a smooth ride--check out the CD's title track, a fine example of a
perfect sonic cocktail. They also know when to darken things up, as with
the grim "Helium Device" and "Vulcan's Forge," or
to slam the listener with solid drum 'n bass, as in the excellently assaultive
"River of Doubt," one of the highlights of this very good CD.
Scientists also
slips in plenty of interesting rogue sounds, from a twangy slide guitar
to nearly buried jazzy horns making brief-but-effective cameo appearances
in the midst of pure electronica. Each track is expertly crafted, with
sound-layers existing in perfect symbiosis, and the flow from one track
to the next is flawless. Perfect for up-front listening or an inobtrusive
ambient experience.
William
Edge, 76 Lightyears and Discovery: Edge of the Universe
The over-riding impression
I got from listening to these CDs was that while the artist has
many of the elements of ambient/space music at his disposal, the
ability to effectively blend them is lacking. The pieces don't
slip together readily; they jostle one another for position and
dominance--piano trying to muscle in alongside electronic treatment
or various elements working against a beat, for example. While
at times approaching a decent listening experience, more often
than not, the approach is deflected by that lack of subtlety.
Others may find Mr. Edge's work more accessible. Samples are available
at his Web
site.
Steve
Roach, Fever Dreams II
With this
second offering in the Fever Dreams trilogy, Roach goes deep into
the collective primitive psyche--perhaps as deep as he's ever
gone--conjuring a thick, lush, intricate weave of tribal, holotropic
grooves wrapped around Byron Metcalf's relentlessly perfect shamanic
percussion and spiked with hauntingly keening vocals from Jennifer
Grais. As this 72-minute story unfolds, Fever Dreams II
guides the listener through some of the most vivid, affecting
soundworlds Roach has ever created.
The journey
starts suddenly, with the abrupt, growling opening chord of "The
Wounded Healer" greeting the listener with a dissonant, disjointed
feel. There is the sense of something being not quite right, of
being fragmented. "Healer" eventually winds into a smoother
feel before giving way to the slow,. shuffling dance of "Energy
Well." This percussion-driven piece moves from a tribal-drumming
feel to a more frenetic, sequenced mode, building and enervating.
It is unstoppably empowering. And then, as it reaches a truly
high point, it bursts, releasing the listener, and ushering in
what is a genuinely amazing piece of music.
"Opening
the Space" simply astounds from the start--more so knowing
that the only instruments on the track are a well-processed six-foot
agave didgeridoo and Grais' emotive, wordless chanting. Plaintive
and prayerful, it draws the listener deeper into the experience.
The didgeridoo gives way to Metcalf's shamanic frame drum as it
takes center on "Heart's Core." Grais keeps the prayer-feel
flowing on top of Roach's dark sound-sworls as this one wends
its way deeper into the soul. It has a very distinct potency.
It is, in a word, transportive.
Fever Dreams
II jumps back and forth between powerfully beat-driven soundworlds
and more flow-oriented grooves. "Fires Burning" might
have been designed to let your heart rate slow back down. The
drums slow as dark, lush tendrills of sound--Roach's "nomadic
grooves"--rise softly upward. "Metamorphosis" gently
builds , a careful mix of intense drumming and guitar atmospheres.
It straddles both of the musical worlds here with a decidedly
positive air about it. The Healer's story--and recovery--culminates
in "Holding the Space," 20 minutes of glorious Roach/Metcalf
shamanic alchemy. Beautifully, the whole thing ends on a fading,
rising note. The journey and the healing are complete, and the
listener is ready to hit "play" again immediately.
Make no mistake:
This is a landmark recording, the tribal-ambient work by which
all others will be judged going forward. This is Steve Roach at
his absolute best, putting forward a geniunely brilliant, emotive,
and moving piece of work.
Cut from the
same sessions that produced Fever Dreams II, this disc
could be considered FD's mellower cousin. "Mantram"
is a cool, calm, beat-enhanced exploration into creating a sort
of sonic mandala--a sacred image--through music. It is a perfect
CD for meditation. Steve Roach lays down the soundworld skeleton;
Byron Metcalf pumps life into it with shamanic drumming; and Mark
Seelig makes it breathe and dance with a beautiful selection of
flutes. The eight pieces here, identified solely by number, are
characterized by a gentle build and a perfectly unhurried feel.
The standout track here is "Seven," where Metcalf's
frame drum takes command of both the music and the listener. Give
in to it. Each strike on the drumhead reverberates to the soul.
You will emerge breathless from this track. Do yourself a favor:
Press "repeat" when you load this CD and just let it
run. It melds beautifully into continuous play and brings a palpable
serenity to the environment. This is bound to become a favorite.
Intencity
Records has put together a very good Enigma-school collection
under the utterly marketable title of Spiritual Chillout.
There's enough variation in the twelve chant-and-backbeat-style
pieces here to make it listenable without succumbing to the trap
of sounding like one track playing over and over. The strong opening
piece, "Humilitas" by Lesiem, borders on being almost
too commercially friendly, but is salvaged by the lovely, soaring
vocals of Maggie Reilly, whose work in the 80s with Mike Oldfield
I loved. Mysteria's "In My Soul" follows and lays a
blues-gospel vocal sample over a sweet piano melody and truly
brings in the chill-out feel. Govinda's "Love Glitch"
and "Sky Chill" from Mysteria may soothe the spirit
but their sensual rhythms, and Dawn Marie Poccia's soft voice
on the latter, run a good chance of awakening the libido as well.
Makyo's "Chandan" lends a few minutes of trippy bliss
through Zen-like simplicity. After Eden's "Metamorphosis"
kicks up the beat a touch, the wonderful "River" by
Ikarus, one of the CD's strongest tracks, puts the groove in gear
with feel-good vocals and a sparsely lovely production that maximizes
its danceable beauty. Upanishad contributes the Middle Eastern-tinged
"Shaman Winds" to keep the upbeat vibe moving. Magna
Canta brings back the Gregorian chants with "Recrodare,"
and starts the CD's move back toward slower, gentler beats. It's
not an outstanding track, but it's purposeful in bringing the
album around. Monica Ramos' "Elements" is a workable
bit based around a harp melody that's just a step too far over
the New Age edge.
Two of the
best cuts on this CD are mantra-driven. The Essence's "You
Are Part of Everything" features the silky vocals of Charlotte
Ellis repeating the title over and over (and reminding us that
everything is part of us, too); GAIA's "Go Gently" closes
the CD with Katie Marne advising us that "Wherever you go,
go gently." Having listened to Spiritual Chillout
and fallen into its easy vibe, you will indeed go gently. A great
CD for mixes or use as an inobtrusive background--but you'll catch
yourself subconsciously rocking.
Kudos to producer
Dave Dale for realizing that the most intruiging instrument on
this recording is Donna De Lory's astonishingly versatile voice.
Stretching from a Kate Bush-style wispily ethereal quality to
the throaty agressiveness of Paula Cole, De Lory takes a set of
six mantras and, through the joy and range of her voice, transforms
them into songs for the soul. It's clear that De Lory is not merely
singing the chants herein; she is embracing them, and that devotion
floats over each track. "Ganapati Om" starts out sparsely,
with De Lory's voice over harmonium, and then the beats kick in
and the upward ride to ecstasy begins. Two homages to the goddess
Shiva, "Om Namah Shivaya" and the closing track, "Samba
Sadashiva," which gets my vote for the best on the
CD, are sinuous, deeply sensual pieces where De Lory's voice takes
the texture of wet silk and wraps around the listener. "He
Ma Durga" is a slow exultation, a spiritual updraft that
drifts gently toward the heavens. Here, De Lory sweetly hits some
of her highest registers. "Govinda Jaya Jaya" introduces
that Paula Cole rasp and rides on a slightly twangy guitar groove
for a breathtaking journey. Finally, the addition of one simple
strike of the gong (or temple bowl?) to announce the end of this
funky meditation is a lovely addition to the overall feel of the
piece.
This is one
of those albums that went onto the CD player and simply wouldn't
come off. Play it and you will find yourself chanting
along with De Lory, and you'll feel better for having done so.
Sada
Sat Kaur, Angels' Waltz
Traditional
Sikh chants get a few interesting twists on Sada Sat Kaur's first
album. The beauty and strength of devotion of Kaur's 30-year career
as a kirtan singer are on display here, but--what's this? Pedal
steel guitar? Indeed. Across the breadth of this CD Kaur plays
with the style, bringing outside influences to this ancient music
and making it work in pure harmony. The CD opens traditionally
with the lovely title track, and then, bit by bit Kaur slides
in the new elements. The second track, "Adi Shakti"
is the best here, amazingly uplifting from the first note, with
mind-soothing harmonies. And "Bolo Ram," where that
yee-haw country vibe slips in on pedal steel and a bluegrass singalong
feel, will set even the darkest heart to dancing.
This may be
Kaur's first excursion into a recording studio, but here's hoping
it is the first of many. This CD is a delightful gift to the public,
and a wonderfully accessible introduction to this musical style.
Laurel,
Laurel
A few years
ago I was driving from Chicago to Boston with a friend. As we
passed through northern Ohio, I looked out the window and was
surprised to see how lovely it was. Surprised, because there really
wasn't anything there that made it lovely. But in that lack of
some indefinable thing, in that lack of anything outstandingly
noticeable about the landscape, there was beauty. I feel the same
way about Laurel's debut CD. There's something here, and I know
it's pretty nice, but it stems from the fact that there's not
much of anything here.
The music
here is soft and solid; the beats that drift in and out lean toward
infectious. But the music tends to fade rather than internalize,
and it's only the well-done nuances--some twangy guitar here,
a horn sample there--that make the listener take any real notice.
Still, as genuinely ambient music--ambient as in, "Oh, there
IS music playing"--this CD is a pretty good listen.
Brannan
Lane, Distant Friends
Brannan Lane
has nice friends. They chip in to help him sculpt astounding soundworlds
that range from slow-moving drifts through quiet places to dark,
challenging landscapes rich with musical meance. Six of those
friends have been gathered on this CD, which Lane calls "a
collection of collaborations."
The CD opens
with the help of the legendary vidna Obmana. Together Lane and
Obmana set the tone with a sinuous drift lightly tinged with darkness.
Zero Ohms steps in with some urban sound samples and hand that
moves from dark to light before handing the reins over to Amir
Baghiri. This pairing creates a familiar Lane-style soundworld,
rife with distant, echoey percussion, and water-in-a-cave ambience.
It is gorgeously grim and mysterious.
The fourth
track, "Unforgotten Dreams" with Robert Carty, is an
ambient pearl. Lustrous, deep, and slow, it is truly the highlight
of the CD. Late in this 16-minute track, thunder rolls, and somehow
it's a perfect touch. This is music to dwell within.
Biff Johnson
lends his hand to the next track, a spacemusic-style journey redolent
with a sense of distance, thunderous chords, and a ramjet/stellar
wind synth pad rush pushing it all along..
"Weeping
Willow," with Silvercord, is another of the highlights of
the CD, and a perfect closing track. From under a shifting white-noise
drone of countless layers, guitar melodies rise up, crest the
surface and fade back below again. Catches of sound come up like
old echoes for an uncertain stay. And all the while, the drone
mutates gently, perfectly.
Kudos to Lane
for seamlessly melding the tracks together. There's no discernible
break between songs. In fact, if you didn't know it was a group
of collaborations, there'd be no reason to suspect it wasn't simply
Lane himself. With all these tracks previously unreleased, this
CD makes a great introduction to both Lane and some of the best
names in the ambient biz today.
Chad
Hoefler, Twilight in the Offing
ven without
the blessing of and overseeing by Robert Rich, this debut CD from
Chad Hoefler would still be an impressive, important album. With
this first outing, Hoefler has carved his name onto the roster
of artists to watch. This is a vivid, dense, magnificently sculpted
piece of ambient work that moves readily and well between classic-style
ambient and tribal-tinged musics. It is inescapable listening.
Opening with the throaty bass drone and aboriginal-feel percussion
of "Crimson Lost," Twlight then moves the listener
through a series of fully realized soundworlds. And each affords
plenty of time to experience it; six of the seven pieces are over
eight and a half minutes long, and Hoefler uses the time to its
fullest. His landscapes tend toward darkness, with layers moving
across layers in constant, breath-like motion. "Enveloping
Shadow" is deep, grim, and beautiful. "Substrata"
is a percussion-driven piece that burrows its way upward through
dense, ever-lightening layers of shifting, fluid chords. "Refugia"
awaits at the surface. Lighter and airier, it's a fresh breath
before diving back down into the depths of "In a Marooned
Moment," which moves brilliantly from dark to light borne
on a raft of light tribal drumming. It is is one of the highlights
of this magnificent CD. The final two tracks, "On the Eve
of the Plum Frost" and "Orchard of Stone," restate
the exquisite dichotomy at work here: the former is a deep, slowly
drifting journey through somber tones and wayward sounds, while
the latter again rides a more upbeat current, ending Twilight
with a sense of a welcome, approaching dawn.
It's Hoefler's
ability to deftly straddle the borders within the genre that makes
Twilight such an astounding work. It is not a tribal
piece; it's not dark ambient; it's not classic ambient. It is
a perfect blend of all three, an expertly narrated tour through
the composer's visions, soothing at one turn, envigorating at
the next, and revealing new complexities and nuances at each listen.
Chad Hoefler's debut CD, Twilight in the Offing, is very
much a Hypnagogue Gotta-Get CD.
Govinda,
Worlds Within
Slick, sexy,
and solidly produced, Govinda's latest work is the most relaxing
CDs you'll ever dance to. It's one of those "best of many
worlds" types of albums, combining body-swaying beats, chillout
ambience, strong dub sensibilities, and piles of delicious ear
candy. A Middle-Eastern feel pervades the dozen tracks here and
each will easily find a home in clubs. Shane O Madden's sensual
violin work slides around each track like a lover covered in scented
oils, and vocal samples thrill like hints of ecstasy. The opener,
"Charming the Serpent" sets the tone and from there
"Worlds Within" refuses to let go. Along the way, standouts
include the very sexy "Love Glitch," which was also
featured on Intencity's "Spiritual Chillout" CD; the
trancey club-bop of "Inner Membrane"; the soft-as-the-Sultan's-cushions
"Calm"; and the closer, "Do I Dream," featuring
Chrysta Bell's gorgeous, emotionally tortured vocals which leave
the listener simply breathless.
Aria
3 : Metamorphosis
The third installment of this opera/electronica crossover is a
lovely addition to the Enigma-school canon. Kicking off with the
soaring "Ombra Mai Fu" from Handel's "Serses,"
Aria 3 underscores classic vocals with a variety of styles from
fairly standard house beats to reggae and jazz feels. The album
hits its zenith with "Farewell," the closing to which,
to these ears, sounds like a magnificent blend of the end of Mike
Oldfield's "Northstar" and ELO's "Fire on High."
There are two instrumental tracks here that, while nice enough,
almost detract from the allure of the opera/groove pairing. Still,
start to finish this is a very listenable album. One warning:
I first listened to this CD while driving through New England
in the fall—putting this on while driving will make you
feel like you're in a high-end car commercial. And believe me,
that's a good thing.
Duglus Alun, Aggressive Meditation
When you get
a lot of CDs gratis, many of them get a listen or two and then
get used as coasters. For some reason, this CD continually rides
that ragged edge: not enough to be put into heavy rotation, but
not enough to toss out. The tunes here are a mixed bag, from drone-based
synth washes to moody instrumentals, but nothing the genuinely
sticks in the head. As a writer, I find myself thinking that many
of these pieces would make good soundtrack music. Alun is quite
strong at conjuring a mood or image through sound. And don't get
me wrong--there are some good tracks here. "Rain on Bamboo"
is a swirling, enveloping piece built on soothing Asian-style
flute; "Up the Sacred Mountain" and "Opium Den"
combine to form a sort of jazzy-meditative groove. Give Aggressive
Meditation a listen or two—it might turn out to be more
than a coaster.
With this
new project, Pete Kelly, the man behind Igneous Flame, takes up
an interesting new instrument: the voice of singer Mary Whitaker.
Processing and manipulating Whitaker's voice gives Kelly a fresh
new pallete of sounds to match with "unpredicatble guitarist"
Nick Kemp's samples and Kelly's own continental-drift synth washes.
The opening track, "Easter Morning," is a smooth and
subtle introduction to the elements herein. Whitakers voice rises,
wavers, and morphs as Kemp adds nearly random slices of melody
over warm synth tones. It's only when Kelly pushes Whitaker's
vocal samples, making them more voice than instrument, that the
liquid flow of this CD is interrupted. (The second track, "Flaxen,"
suffers from this.) But when Whitaker becomes more tone than substance,
mixing easily with the slow development of Kelly's compositions,
8 Shades of Sound becomes a deeper, more enriching piece
of work that, like so much of Kelly's material, reveals layers
of complexity, warmth, and mastery with repeated attentive listens.
Taking advantage,
as so many have before him, of the ready availability of easy-to-use
electronic composing software, longtime ambient DJ Joel Krutt
presents nine well-intentioned--if not always spot-on--minimalist
ventures in his debut CD. As with many "Do It Yourself"
(DIY) recordings, What Next? tends to lack the subtlety
that marks truly good ambient composition. For example, while
the stacatto interruptions in "Voices" eventually work,
their sudden introduction into a flowing drone is jarring. When
it stops just as suddenly, moving the piece back into a drone,
it leaves the listener wondering why it was even there in the
first place. There are highlights, however: "Gamelgone"
is densely hypnotic and engaging, its manipulated sounds punctuated
neatly by clear gamelan tones. "Riff 4" is a very good
bit of sound manipulation, working off a simple guitar lick that
gets twisted like a Mobius strip. Nearly all DIY music in this
genre suffers from "How does it end?" syndrome, and
it's in effect here. Pieces just...stop. Krutt and his peers need
to figure out how to ease a piece to a close as opposed to slamming
it shut. All in all, a decent freshmen effort worth a few listens.
Dwight
Ashley, Four
Following
up on last year's excellent solo release, Discrete Carbon,
Dwight Ashley returns with Four, a guided tour of the raw,
grim places at the edge of musicality. With each new album--indeed,
each new piece--Ashely proves himself a master of stark beauty.
Four is a smooth, slow-moving body of work that reaches
down into the hidden places in your psyche and pulls something
out. There is no passive listening here; every piece pulls the
listener down and in. "Machina ex deus" starts with
a rasping, trapped-animal snarl but wends its way into fludiity;
"Stranded II" is painted in perfect hues of unease and
worry but stays engaging with its tonal beauty; "The Art
of Standing" brings a sort of dark Zen sensation, the feeling
of being not entirely alone in your mental quietude; and "The
Mighty Fallen Rust in the Sun" is a splendid balance of menace
and majesty set on breathy drones and ripples of low chords.
I'm consistenly
amazed by Ashley's ability to create music that feels intensely
personal while at the same time carrying a distinct sense of distance.
It's like standing back, unseen, and watching a painter cry as
he creates.
A superb second
effort from Ashley, one that gets a lot of replay.
Opening like
a dark tribute to Eno's "Music for Airports," with a
sparse, sustain-intensive piano melody over quiet synth work,
this CD soon shows it true Lane colors and beauty. The two opening
tracks—the Piano Dreams—move languidly along like
subtle morning fog. In the next two—the Fallen Nightscapes—the
piano drops away to a rich, atmospheric drift with delightful
depth of sound. The first of the two Moonlit Reflections pieces
sounds like an homage to the "healing piano" music of
Steve Halpern in the 80s, with evocative, stylish electronic piano.
The second goes darker and deeper with a tinge of tribal percussion.
With "Daze Gone By," Lane eases the CD to a close with
a bit of soft darkness. This is a perfect relaxation CD, and a
delight for deep listening.
Dino
Pacifici, Float Zone
If this CD
were an old vinyl album, the two sides would be labeled "Dark"
and "Light." Pacifici neatly divides the six major tracks
here right in the middle--three to either side. The first half
comprises three dark, drone-based and slow-moving excursions.
Deep sound layers float murkily one over the other. "When
It Came," the second track, is especially effective in immersing
the listener in its shadowy, otherworldly atmosphere.
With "Undercurrents,"
Pacifici lightens the mood slightly and brings rhythmic elements
to push back the drone. Toward the end of the final major cut,
"Epilogue," the mood begins an easy spiral back down
to subtlety, making for a complete journey. The almost gratuitous,
42-second piano piece, "Outro," actually puts a nice
bit of musical punctuation on the collection.
"Float
Zone" is definitely worth a listen.
Sada
Sat Kaur, Shashara
Sada Sat Kaur
returns with her second album to continue putting the funk into
your yoga routine. Sat Kaur combines traditional Gurmakhi mantras
with musical influences from around the globe, from body-swaying
club-style beats to quiet, introspective acoustic guitar. Her
voice floats like silk on still water, and the cuts move from
soothing to envigorating and enlivening without ever feeling disjointed.
If you haven't tried this--or any of Ajna's "metrospiritual"
offerings yet--come on in...the joy is fine.
Silo
10
Here's your
pitchline for this CD: Hypnotic minimalism recorded in an empty
grain silo.
Warren Rivera
and James Sidlo hit the improvisation trail and bring back a series
of thickly layered, engaging drone-based tunes that maximize the
natural reverb of the empty silo. (No, really!) Clear, repetitive
licks off their guitars rise up out of the dense sound-river that
forms the base of their explorations. This is at once a soothing
and challenging CD. In rare instances, such as on "memory
game," the reverb, in conjunction with percussive elements,
wreaks a touch of havoc, seeming to pit competing rhythms against
one another.
"therapy
refuge" is a great opening track. It pulls the listener under
and holds him there. From drifty simplicity to industialesque
borderline noise, Silo 10 makes for an interesting ride well worth
repeat listens.
