Roger Doyle - Homemade Ivory Dreams (LP)

AllchivalACRDLPX2

Price:
¥3,898

Description

Allchival’s admirable, ongoing Roger Doyle retrospective takes in his brace of rudely glitching piano scapes and subtly febrile dream sequences written between 2011-2017 and comparable to everyone from the Eno siblings to K. Leimer or aspects of Alva Noto & Ryuichi Sakamoto.

Chasing invaluable reissue reminders of Doyle’s pioneering post-punk classics with Operating Theatre and The Threat in recent times, the languid and restless airs of ‘Homemade Ivory Dreams’ weighs in as a Doyle’s second solo curio to be dusted down and redressed by new ears increasingly attuned to Ireland’s lesser-covered past. More sublime and spacious than the expansive yet dense and delirious ‘Babel’ suite, which covered his late C.20th computer-based scores for theatre, the elegant and labyrinthine corridors of ‘Homemade Ivory Dreams’ spotlight farther sides to the Irish composer who is considered among the leading, progressive and experimental voices of his country and generation. 

Doyle typically parses a range of extra-musical cues from literature, poetry, and film within the 10 tracks on show, variously navigating fissures of memory and figments of figurative forms with a poetic grasp of musical metaphor that has long been his calling card. The notion of dreams seeded in the title guides him thru parallel dimensions of cuboid chamber classical in ‘CBG’ to ruder bouts of offbeat Autechrian electronica on ‘Skunk Hours in the Demon Mist’, and spur him to more rage dervishes of keys and guitar on ‘Enniode’, a tribute to Ennio Morricone, or setting of Irish language poem ‘Urnaí Maidne’ to a sort of brooding Euro film score vernacular on ‘The Nenuphar of Nina.’

He is perhaps most effective when more simply bask in the half light of memory on ‘Growing Up In Formaldehyde’, whose title is canny transliteration of a friend’s comment, “’what would you know - you grew up in formaldehyde”, which is a “benign reference to the village of Malahide where I spent my youth. Embalmed memory” and redolent of his shortcircuiting of the musical links between dialect, accent, and memory in the title and music of his classic ’Oizzo No’. Along with the feathered nuance of ’The Long Take’ and melancholia of ‘No Lone Man’ it’s a quietly charming 44’ in Doyle’s presence.

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