MUSIC
7349 products
Alexander Holm presents Dial / Head Stroll, a pair of minimalist sound works built from repetition, movement and subtle shifts in perspective. Loops circle slowly in and out of focus, with fragments of sound appearing and disappearing like half-remembered scenes. Blurring the line between composition and sonic collage, Holm creates an abstract listening experience where small details gradually take on new meaning. Patient, playful and subtly uncanny, Dial / Head Stroll rewards close listening with each repeated pass.
To be an attentive listener to the world as it stands is to be saturated with language. Speech resounds through nearly every space that features human beings, whether unwanted or desired, mundane or profound. Words sit on the page and in the ear, proliferating endlessly. This superabundance has long been a point of fascination for composer and musician Ben Vida, but over the past several years it has led to a new method of music making that simultaneously exalts and interrogates the primacy of language in our sonic and cultural environments. Gently, playfully, Vida breaks down language’s hierarchy of meaning and sound until they exist in egalitarian harmony. Oblivion Seekers is Vida’s newest album in this mode of composition, following 2023’s collaboration with new music ensemble Yarn/Wire The Beat My Head Hit. Like its predecessor, the music’s focus is on coordinated duets of spoken word in a neutral tone, the variable cadences of the words in motion creating complex internal rhythmic structures. He is joined by the voices of Nina Dante, Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett, and Félicia Atkinson, creating a singular tone that is neither theirs nor his, fluid in its gender presentation, accent, and diction. The instrumental compositions that form the album’s understory have the casual flow of dialogue, conversational but subdued, rarely the agent of change. Here, Vida likewise called upon an accomplished community of players to accompany him: Dante on harp, Bennett on bass flute, Matt Bauder and Will Epstein on saxophones, Henry Fraser on bass, Cleek Schrey on violin, and Booker Stardrum on percussion. These elements form lattice-like structures that the text darts in and around, often adhering to downbeats but otherwise moving freely within each lilting phrase. A tranquil, focused temperament persists, enhanced by the reserved cadence of the voices that makes it feel as if the music is one long mantra that never quite reaches back to its genesis point. The effect is entrancing, equally soporific and gripping, implying repetition without ever moving exactly the same way twice. The instrumentation on each of the album’s four pieces varies; “Be Yr Own Abyss” is defined by the wave-like counterpoint of saxophones, while the ambiguous chime of vibraphone floats over “Oblivion Seekers” and Fraser’s swelling bass provides the album’s sole dramatic entrance. The music shifts in the ear as the text constantly redefines and recontextualizes the composition’s form and movement, even as it remains consistent in its otherworldly glow. The text is often drawn from snippets of language that Vida encountered throughout his life as he was composing: overheard mumblings from the supermarket line, impactful phrases from a novel he was reading, impressions of the music that wouldn’t leave his turntable. Small details, otherwise insignificant, accumulate not to form a narrative, but an impression of the complex meaning-making process that happens as one lives day to day. Characters and scenes flicker in and out of the frame, and phrases that beg to be unpacked are allowed to glide by. In “Be Yr Own Abyss” something like a thesis appears without fanfare: “Her tongue was out to kill her / all hail this mental space / constructing ambiguity / and the endless stream.” On two separate occasions the listener is told that waves are heading our way. There are many predecessors to these types of novel confluences of music and speech. Vida’s love of Robert Ashley is well documented, but perhaps even more significant are Mark E. Smith and The Fall, Neil Tennant and the Pet Shop Boys’ spoken verses, the entire history of hip hop, Meredith Monk. The way the words are delivered matters just as much as the words themselves, revealing an intentionality and directness that Vida highlights and subverts with the text’s abstract construction patterns. On Oblivion Seekers, the omnidirectional din is the marble Vida chips away at to illuminate the way we process the vast strangeness of the world. Its triumph is that we lose none of the beautiful mystery of how these signs bridge our external and internal worlds.
Eliane Radigue's complete Opus 17 (1970), her finest and final work created using feedback, is contained on this double CD. With Opus 17 Radigue perfected her slow mixing technique with sublime results. Imperceptible transformations envelop the attentive listener who is confronted with an immensely physical experience. Time is suspended in powerfully poetic and artful ways as Radigue masterfully sculpts the physical matter of sound using feedback for the last time.
Opus 17 is an absolutely essential masterpiece in the realm of early electro-acoustic/drone/minimalist composition.
Metallic silver ink printed on high gloss paper.
*300 copies limited edition* Drawing from field recordings collected during a trip to Japan, boring tables saturates sonic vignettes in sentimental key, replaying familiar traces of lived experience into something more abstract. The seven tracks on mathematical model 0010, Luca Quartarone's debut album, trail through evolving tonal expanses that envelop the environment in a perpetually expanding haze of serenity. Though sonic fragments hail from the everyday, the compositions themselves inevitably glide towards something much larger—just like a passing instant can extend into an ongoing remembrance.
The title of the album is inspired by a piece of land art by Hiroshi Sugimoto, which Luca encountered during a visit to the Enoura Observatory at the Odawara Art Foundation. The work features a metallic plane that embodies the geometry of a hyperbolic surface with constant negative curvature, continuously converging toward a 5mm gauge without ever meeting. Much like the geometry of this piece suggests a mathematical infinity, the album's sonic cartography evokes the feeling of intimate gestures within infinite expanses.
Klara Lewis' Opening is a deceptive recording with veiled melodies and clandestine bangers. "Klara Lewis’ distinctive talent for disfiguring sound into forms that remain recognisably song-like reaches a new peak here. Lewis, creator of worlds, treats music as a mirror that reflects a perspective misaligned with the real image. Her music moves in unusual and often startling ways. Acoustic instruments such as ukulele and piano are subjected to processes of deconstruction and reconstruction, their original forms continually reshaped. The tracks within Opening offer an array of disorientating tactics; damaged field recordings are suddenly sliced into ominous rhythmical patterns whilst deceptively simple tactics provide foreboding dread. Often alien on entry, the progression of a piece can land in a surprising tenderness, or the other way around. The momentum grows as a physical state but also one which is questioning, desiring, encapsulating a feeling, to explore a further way of expression and ultimately connecting: A new closeness, a new perspective. Opening is an album in which the protagonist’s manipulation of sonic matter seems to extend beyond the music itself, resulting in a corresponding manipulation of the active listener. Sounds shift, dissolve, and re-emerge in altered forms, creating an experience that feels both intimate and disorienting. Lewis maintains a delicate balance between abstraction and emotional immediacy, drawing the listener into a world where familiar musical gestures are constantly reconfigured in surprising ways. The works on Opening are refracted through an exploratory and transformative lens, suggesting an artist continuing to redefine the possibilities of musical language as a space where the instantaneous and the eternal come together."
Last heard on Black Truffle as one quarter of the joyously anarchic Bergisch-Brandenburgisches Quartett, Hans Reichel (1949-2011) is one of the great figures of experimental guitar music. Though perhaps lesser known than peers like Derek Bailey, Fred Frith and Keith Rowe, Reichel’s rethinking of the instrument was in some ways the most radical of all. Early on, he dispensed with existing guitars to build a series of his own that explored the use of additional strings and fretboards, moveable pickups, extra bridges, special capos, and other innovations documented in the extensive booklet accompanying this release.
What strikes the listener right from the opening selection on Dalbergia Retusa—‘Return of the Knödler show’, from 1987’s The Dawn of Dachsman—is the extraordinary beauty of Reichel’s music, at once alien in the shimmering sonorities and unconventional pitch relationships made possible by his invented instruments, and deeply lyrical, even romantic in its harmonic content. Growing up in West Germany in the 1960s, Reichel’s formative influences were mainly British and American rock bands, a background that shines through in many of the pieces included here: ‘An old friend passes by’ is haunted by the ghost of Hendrix’s rhythm guitar, and the wild closer ‘Heimkehr der Holzböcke’, taken from a rare 1975 7” and the only piece to use overdubbing, layers errant hammer-on and slide tones over a Canned Heat boogie chug.
Reichel was an important source for the development of Oren Ambarchi’s own extended approach to the electric guitar. Appropriately enough, his selection opens with the very first piece by Reichel he ever heard, on a flexidisc included with a 1989 issue of Guitar Player magazine. Though Reichel collaborated with others extensively in many settings and also performed on violin and his other major contribution to instrument invention, the daxophone, his music for solo guitar remains at the core of his oeuvre.
Focusing exclusively on solo pieces recorded between 1973 and 1988, the 23 pieces on Dalbergia Retusa showcase the range and consistency of Reichel’s work, allowing the listener to see how his performances developed hand-in-hand with his instrumental inventions. On a piece from his very first LP, played on an 11-string instrument (partly strung with piano strings and using a schnapps glass a slide), we hear his intensive exploration of fret-hammering to create zither-like, chiming tone, which Reichel would hone further in later years with a double fretboard guitar specifically designed to be hammered rather than fretted and picked. On a piece from 1979’s Death of the Rare Bird Ymir, Reichel uses two steel-string acoustic guitars at once, with beautiful results: ‘some even say too beautiful’, he jokes in the interview included here. Many of the pieces from the 1980s make use of varieties of the ‘pick behind the bridge guitar’, instruments of uncanny harmonic richness primarily designed to be played on the ‘wrong’ side of the bridge. At times the unexpected behaviour of attacks, resonance, and decay can almost seem electronic, conjuring up the technology-assisted work of Henry Kaiser or even Fennesz, but realised solely through Reichel’s unorthodox techniques on his invented instruments.
A work of genuinely monumental proportions. Jean-Claude Eloy's Gaku-No-Michi - subtitled "Tao of Music" or "Ways of Music" - stands among the towering achievements of 20th Century electroacoustic practice. Produced at the electronic music studio of NHK Radio in Tokyo between 1977 and 1978, its four hours of concrete and electronic sound unfold as what the composer called "a film without images" - an immense, spiraling architecture of sonic transformation that remains, nearly five decades on, as radical and absorbing as the day it was conceived. Born in Paris in 1938, Eloy belonged to the great second wave of post-war European composers. He studied at the Conservatoire National Supérieur, winning First Prizes in Piano, Chamber Music, Counterpoint, and Ondes Martenot, and worked on composition with Darius Milhaud. Summer courses at Darmstadt brought encounters with Messiaen, Boulez, and Stockhausen; he then entered Boulez's master class at the Music Academy in Basel. Yet Eloy was never content to remain within the European serialist orbit. A professorship at the University of California, Berkeley during the late 1960s opened his ears to Eastern aesthetics - to the vast, unhurried perception of time in Asian musical traditions. From that point forward, his trajectory diverged sharply from his contemporaries, carrying him toward India, Japan, and a singular practice in which the boundaries between Occident and Orient dissolved into sound itself. After the 135-minute electronic meditation of Shânti (1972-74), realized in Cologne, Eloy traveled to Tokyo. There, working inside the NHK Denshi Ongaku Studio, he produced Gaku-No-Michi - a composition of staggering ambition, structured in four linked parts. The first, "Tokyo", draws on the raw acoustic fabric of the city - subway announcements, factory hum, political speeches broadcast from loudspeakers in public squares - and subjects it to a slow, spiraling metamorphosis, pulling the concrete toward the abstract. "Fushiki-e", the longest section at nearly 80 minutes, reverses the trajectory: electronically generated material absorbs fragments of Gagaku court music, Nô theater, and Shômyô Buddhist chant, drifting toward a sustained "sound of immobilization" - an immense organ point of contemplative stillness. "Banbutsu no Ryûdô" works an endlessly metamorphosing weft of daily and extraordinary sound, where a nationalistic speech dissolves into the buzzing of insects, where the hollow strike of a bamboo Shishi Odoshi against stone emerges only after long electronic transformation. "Kaiso", the final movement, condenses reminiscences of all that preceded, built around the annual commemorative ceremony of Hiroshima, leading through gravity and lament toward an infinitely sustained tone of peace. What distinguishes Gaku-No-Michi from so much electroacoustic work of its era is the sheer physical presence of its sound world. Eloy does not merely manipulate material - he inhabits it. The timbral palette is extraordinarily rich: electronically fabricated Tibetan bells more haunting than their acoustic counterparts, iridescent spirals that diffract into divergent lines before converging into vast harmonic masses, crackling meteorite trails, low-pitched resonances swept by winds both violent and majestic. The experience of duration is central to the work's design. Four hours is not a provocation but a necessity - the time required for the listener's perception to shift, for ordinary awareness of passing minutes to give way to something closer to immersion, to what Eloy described as a "psychophysical acoustic" encounter with sound. This 4CD set on Hors Territories represents the first complete publication of the work in its digitalized and revised version, dedicated to the memory of Wataru Uenami. Packaged in a 10-panel digipak with a 16-page booklet in French and English, it is an essential document - not only for admirers of Eloy, but for anyone drawn to the outer reaches of what composed sound can achieve. A bridge between worlds, between concrete and abstract, between the noise of the living city and the stillness at the heart of contemplation. CD 1: “Pachinko” introduces “Tokyo” in a deliberately stiff, regular, almost mechanical and untranscended way while the big spiral of long successive waves, which further develops through Tokyo, becomes more and more varied in its material ending in the surpassing and searched-for transubstantiation taking place throughout the fi nal part. CD 2: The second disc, “Fushiki-e”, takes us (through varied, complex, contrasted and sometimes violent sound episodes) towards the four “stages of contemplation” including the last one, “Mokuso”, which represents the ultimate stage of the contemplative. It is the longest part of the whole piece, lasting almost 80 minutes. CD 3: “Banbutsu no Ryûdô” is a boundless continuous “weft” travelling so to say through all sorts of daily or exceptional « sound scenes » continually metamorphosing, going from political speeches to a Shishi Odoshi, transformed for a long time well before its pure, direct appearance. CD 4: “Kaiso “ is a moment of gravity innervated and built around the annual commemorative ceremony of Hiroshima, which however leads us beyond the evoked drama to a place of surpassing with peace through the « Han » sound, extending the work to infinity…”
True to form, Andrea Borghi works directly with VHS tapes and the apparatus that plays them, manipulating the exposed mechanisms with the care and curiosity of a dedicated scientist. Drawing from these manual manipulations, Borghi's experiments combine mechanical sounds with mangled tape samples to inspire a mechanised nostalgia inseparably hybridised with human trace. Unlike others who work with old film, he resists the eerie to focus on the intricate crunch and buzz, an electro-acoustic soundscape tangentially related to the field recordings. By highlighting the precise moment that recorded media becomes perceived, a restless, shifting mass of both familiar and unrecognisable sounds results in a unique form of otic chiaroscuro. The result is a complication of inside and outside sounds: distant, gesturing snippets of semi-remembered, half-imagined films compete with TV cathode burn, tracking stutters, mechanical interference, and vérité whirrs and clicks that could only come from that original reproducer of dreams, the VHS player. With Palsecam Borghi gives dignity to an often maligned format, in an engaging mélange that represents the recovery of an object discarded as an objet d'art. Composed & recorded by Andrea Borghi. VHS recorder, contact microphones, computer. APO 17 | Published by Aposiopèse. Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi. Cut By Kassian Troyer at Dubplates & Mastering, Berlin Andrea Borghi (1974 Pietrasanta, Lucca) is a sound artist and electro-acoustic composer. His work focuses on the relationship between sound and matter. His practice is based on oriented and multidisciplinary research processes, and includes sculptural objects, installations, obsolete media and electronics. In the series named “Discomateria” he resorts to the use of glass, resin, metal and, more recently, marble as primary substrate for the production of sounds with a growing body of graphic/sculptural works. Tactility is something he has been exploring in his music over the course of his entire career, creating organic auditory experiences for the listeners.
Thank you : floors, walls, ceilings, corridors, chairs, tables, air-conditioners, heaters, alarms, plastic, paper, foil, tins, boxes, containers, microphones, speakers, shellac, tape, magnets, dust, data, hollows, surfaces, bodies, actions, weather, vibration, Jennifer Callaway, Carly Fischer, Eric la Casa, David Prescott-steed, Martin Kay, Matthew Davis, Francisco Meirino, Justas Pipinis, Ursss, everyone from C3, Simon Whetham, Edwina Eves, Yvan Etienne, Chisato Ishiyama, Pierre Judon, Aposiopèse. Eamon Sprod (previously working as Tarab) works with sound collected from mundane or neglected urban spaces, pursuing an anti-naturalist field recording practice to draw oblique narratives and listening spaces from the everyday and its outer edges. Rather than describing spaces, he attempts to shape them, by working to include everyday spaces as active participants in aural experiences instead of only acting as their container.
During a 2016 trip to Colombia, I was very fortunate to be welcomed by the staff of the Rio Claro Natural Reserve, located in the central Cordillera. After several days of recording in the caves—the ones open to the public—inhabited by small colonies of cave-dwelling Guacharos (Steatornis caripensis), Juan Guillermo Garcés, director and founder of the Rio Claro sanctuary, allowed me to access a secret location outside of the reserve, home to what ornithologists reckon is one of the largest known colonies of these birds in Colombia. The only species of its kind, the Cave Guacharos (also known as Oilbird), is a gregarious, cave-dwelling animal that has developed the rare echolocation abilities usually found in cetaceans, bats and, more rarely, mammals. While the vast majority of echolocation signals known to exist in the animal world operate in a spectrum that is inaudible to humans, the signals emitted by Guacharos occur in the medium/high range of our auditory spectrum. Although Alexander Von Humboldt and Aimé Bonpland reported the existence of these animals to Europe in 1799, and Von Humboldt described them between 1814 and 1817, their nesting sites were already well known to indigenous populations, who saw them as the seat of evil spirits. Traditionally used by these peoples for their meat and cooking oil, the Guacharos were largely decimated by the colonial presence in the area, then hunted until the 1960s before being listed as a protected species in the 1970s.
A note from Lawrence English In late 1975, Annea Lockwood realised her composition World Rhythms. It represents one of the first creative works exploring the potentials of field recordings in a multichannel setting. It is a landmark work and a composition that, on its 50th anniversary, has gently carried forward over the decades, but arguably now is only starting to come into true focus, and be understood for exactly how revolutionary it was. World Rhythms was a work concerned with a practice of sustained listening into the world, and beyond. It expanded outward from many of the compositions and themes Annea Lockwood had been exploring since the 1960s. It sought to take those learnings and apply them to a new set of terrains and circumstances. Moreover, it suggested a sensing of sound that was drawn from profound curiosity, matched only by patience. In 2019, I reached out to Annea and started a conversation about a revisitation of World Rhythms. My initial proposition was a simple one: a re-issue that was remastered and touched up, reflecting Annea’s thoughts on the piece in this moment. The conversation quickly spun outward though, and before long Annea had asked if I might be interested to revisit the master tapes with the thought that the work could be revived and prepared for performance presentations going forward into this century. On listening to the materials, during the period of restoring the audio from the original master tapes, I was struck by the profound dynamism of the recordings. Each of the sound-fields held an attentive flux, a rhythmic pulse that was breathing. Each one a story of the pulses of the world, and our universe, that spoke to a possible reading of reality that sits in excess of our everyday capacities. A poetics of pulse if you like. Here then is the result of those conversations and also the presentations of the piece that followed - several of which Annea has overseen herself. On this newly rendered imagining of World Rhythms, new relations, listening paths and ways of exploring her sound-fields are brought into focus. The core of the piece remains, a prioritised zone of listening, but emerging from deep within it new sonic formations emerge, a reminder of the dynamism of our energetic world and its surroundings.
In May 1984 I appeared at a German festival called Pro
Musica Nova, organized by Radio Bremen. I then travelled to
Berlin by car with Rolf Langebertels, the owner of Galerie
Giannozzo who had driven to Bremen to hear me perform. I still
remember very vividly the experience of passing through the
checkpoint to enter West Berlin, a city that floated like an island
in the middle of the still socialist GDR. I had previously visited
Berlin in 1982 to perform at Kunstlerhaus Bethanien at an event
that Rolf had organized. This time too Rolf had organized a
concert for me at the Technische Universitat. Playing off the title
of the piece (“Study Time”) I had performed at Pro Musica
Nova, I titled the piece for this concert “Zeitstudie”.
I owe Rolf a great deal of gratitude, as it was him who
encouraged me by releasing my very first cassette tape,
“Zeitstudie von Akio Suzuki”. In recent years it has become
difficult for me to carry heavy instruments around with me, and
I have started to do simpler performances with objects
assembled on site. So it feels wonderful to have the sound of
the battery of instruments I used back then to be returned to the
light of day.
On “Zeitstudie von A.S.” I used an ANALAPOS, the echo
instrument I invented in 1970, and the Suzuki-type glass
harmonica that I created in 1975. The ANALAPOS resembles the
tin-can telephone that children used to play with: two metal
cans, open at one end and connected by a coil spring. You
play it by stretching out the spring horizonally and then
projecting your voice into the open end of one of the
cylinders. The second piece features a variation, where I
would suspend several ANALAPOS vertically and play them like
a percussion instrument.
The Suzuki-type glass harmonica is in a simpler form than the
pre-existing glass harmonica, and consists of five long glass
tubes of varying diameters suspended horizontally in a metal
frame. As well as rubbing the tubes with wet hands, I developed
my own style of playing it using sticks. Once when I was
practicing with it in the Netherlands, outside the window I was
surprised to hear a bird imitating my sounds. However, later I
discovered that the bird always sang that way, and as a token
of my regret for having ever doubted it, I borrowed the bird’s
Dutch name, De Koolmees, and I s till use it for my instrument.
Recently, as I listened back to the cassette of “Zeitstudie von
A.S.”, one of Hiromi Miyakita’s drawings was lying in front of me.
There was a sympathetic resonance between the sounds and the
drawing, so I decided to use it on the cover. This is a joyful music.
Folds of water sanctify the river. Tracing soft, cool hands, the tall oak make way for a child who is older now. The moon gives chase, as clouds attempt to climb her. And choiceless, she falls through, further out of sight. An episodic, dreamlike place; Headwater is an invitation to explore what is fundamental to life – as if asking the listener; what, after losing my compass, is the nature of my experience? The headwater is the childhood of the stream – its beginning. And as though banished from the safety, innocence and purity of this place, the individual is carried through rapids, gashed and sawn, calling for the self to be woven again. In these early moments, the poignancy of this venture is felt in droves – a woman lost in the forest trying to find a way out, silhouette skating through light while something approaches, further out of sight. Everyone is thrown out of childhood – hurled into a life to make sense of something which lives on in memory. The mind catches fragments, painted by ink found in the canals of the veins and rivers within – their headwater, the heart. Like tentacles beneath our skin, their message arrives unannounced, while a great struggle embarks to keep them at bay – the clarity of their awareness polluted. After a time, the river is older now. The forest’s foliage has tuned, sculpted and moulded her – so much so, that the water is barely recognisable. But the girl is no fool, and her sensitivity will not be auctioned. Catching glimpses of the headwater – she cries out to the forest and the valley. This time, unafraid of the pain it wears and hides behind, pretending. She sings to the eclipse, crying for the stars and their breath on the river’s back. Calling for the animals, insects and fish - bowing to the scent of the pine in the evening warmth of the air, weeping to the memory of her childhood, she comes alive. Only in such a surrender does the headwater of her tears make itself known, and all that is longed for arise without having ever been lost. Could she really be creating all of it? And like a child with a boundless imagination, be confusing her role in the play with the candid, honest face of life itself? Humility might yet speak – claiming all she has taken herself to be as the leaves and foliage which pollute and fragment the stream. That a quest to return to childhood is an unnecessary one – because the currents which begun at the headwater still contain, at every step of the river, the headwater itself. And that the cries and memories heard starkly through the forest valley have still come from the deepest waterways the body has pronounced. And so, originate in the heart – and are no threat.
“Elemental View” is a work in six movements by pioneering composer Ellen Fullman for her Long String Instrument and The Living Earth Show. The expansive installation inhabits an industrial sized space with 136 strings, precisely tuned and configured for this multi-movement piece. Listening to the music of Fullman’s singular creation is akin to standing inside a giant musical instrument. The result is a music at once ancient and utterly new, environmental, and folk-like yet orchestral; immersing the listener in a transportive glistening atmosphere. “Elemental View” invites the listener to discover, as if with a magnifying glass, the details of the physics of string vibration itself. Fullman bows the instrument lengthwise with her fingertips while walking, playing multiple strings at once. As she walks, upper partial tones unfold at different rates, in proportion to differences in string length, imparting an undulating wave of continually shifting overtones. The notation for the Long String Instrument contains both temporal indications and spatial choreography, as specific harmonies emerge at distinct locations along the string length. Invention and discovery are at the core of Fullman’s work. To produce percussive sounds on the otherwise drone-based instrument, Fullman designed and fabricated the box bow, shovelette, and shoveler, which play three, six, or nine strings at once. Varying techniques with these tools produce either open ringing tones or closed dampened ones. With their laser focused precision and virtuosic ensemble playing, The Living Earth Show brilliantly executes the rhythmic and harmonic complexity of Fullman’s composition. In the movements “Environmental Memory” and “Concentrated Merry-Go-Round”, Fullman incorporates Travis Andrew’s primary instrument, the guitar. Andy Meyerson and Fullman accompany the guitar in duo playing box bow and shoveler. For “Surface Narrative in Four Parts”, Meyerson also applies his percussion mastery to the santur, a Persian hammered dulcimer. The santur’s unique tuning is derived from the extended microtonal partials of the sequence played by Fullman on The Long String Instrument.
"The Sound Leaves" began as an interactive sound performance and installation based around humans’ impact on the environment and how that impact is altering the sonic landscape of our world. As ecosystems change due to climate collapse, the sound of those ecosystems changes too. "The Sound Leaves" used an amplified collection of autumn leaves to encourage participants to listen closely to how their actions alter the sounds of the fallen leaves by walking on and through them for a period of time. By amplifying these sounds, processing and mixing them live, and playing them back via a set of speakers directed at the installation, the performance heightened the sonic changes participants’ actions create. From that performance, a sound piece by the same name was composed using the recorded sounds with additional instrumentation. It was installed as a temporary exhibition on site at Philbrook Musuem of Art during the winter of 2023, emanating from a grove of oak and elm trees. A year later, as the climate crisis worsened, those same sounds were reprocessed and reconsidered, creating a more ghost-like approach, "In Collapse."
"I'm sitting in a different room than you are now. I'm recording my own voice. By the resonant frequency of the room strengthening itself, my voice is excluding only the rhythmic elements. Repeat recording and playback until completely destroyed. At that point what you hear is the very natural resonance frequency of the room expressed by my voice. I have this movement in my voice. I think of it as a way to smooth out band irregularities, and I'm not conscious of revealing this phenomenon itself. "
A repress of the classic "I'm Sitting in a Room (1969)" by contemporary musician Alvin Lucier (1931-), originally released in 1981.
By repeatedly recording and playing back the sound of voices echoing in a particular space until the voices become indistinct, the work explores the acoustical engineering of the space to reveal its specific frequencies. It is a work that can only be realized by actually being there, and although it can be perceived as a mere acoustic work just by listening to the recorded sound source, its original purpose is a groundbreaking content that allows the listener to embody a vast and infinite space.
To be an attentive listener to the world as it stands is to be saturated with language. Speech resounds through nearly every space that features human beings, whether unwanted or desired, mundane or profound. Words sit on the page and in the ear, proliferating endlessly. This superabundance has long been a point of fascination for composer and musician Ben Vida, but over the past several years it has led to a new method of music making that simultaneously exalts and interrogates the primacy of language in our sonic and cultural environments. Gently, playfully, Vida breaks down language’s hierarchy of meaning and sound until they exist in egalitarian harmony. Oblivion Seekers is Vida’s newest album in this mode of composition, following 2023’s collaboration with new music ensemble Yarn/Wire The Beat My Head Hit. Like its predecessor, the music’s focus is on coordinated duets of spoken word in a neutral tone, the variable cadences of the words in motion creating complex internal rhythmic structures. He is joined by the voices of Nina Dante, Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett, and Félicia Atkinson, creating a singular tone that is neither theirs nor his, fluid in its gender presentation, accent, and diction. The instrumental compositions that form the album’s understory have the casual flow of dialogue, conversational but subdued, rarely the agent of change. Here, Vida likewise called upon an accomplished community of players to accompany him: Dante on harp, Bennett on bass flute, Matt Bauder and Will Epstein on saxophones, Henry Fraser on bass, Cleek Schrey on violin, and Booker Stardrum on percussion. These elements form lattice-like structures that the text darts in and around, often adhering to downbeats but otherwise moving freely within each lilting phrase. A tranquil, focused temperament persists, enhanced by the reserved cadence of the voices that makes it feel as if the music is one long mantra that never quite reaches back to its genesis point. The effect is entrancing, equally soporific and gripping, implying repetition without ever moving exactly the same way twice. The instrumentation on each of the album’s four pieces varies; “Be Yr Own Abyss” is defined by the wave-like counterpoint of saxophones, while the ambiguous chime of vibraphone floats over “Oblivion Seekers” and Fraser’s swelling bass provides the album’s sole dramatic entrance. The music shifts in the ear as the text constantly redefines and recontextualizes the composition’s form and movement, even as it remains consistent in its otherworldly glow. The text is often drawn from snippets of language that Vida encountered throughout his life as he was composing: overheard mumblings from the supermarket line, impactful phrases from a novel he was reading, impressions of the music that wouldn’t leave his turntable. Small details, otherwise insignificant, accumulate not to form a narrative, but an impression of the complex meaning-making process that happens as one lives day to day. Characters and scenes flicker in and out of the frame, and phrases that beg to be unpacked are allowed to glide by. In “Be Yr Own Abyss” something like a thesis appears without fanfare: “Her tongue was out to kill her / all hail this mental space / constructing ambiguity / and the endless stream.” On two separate occasions the listener is told that waves are heading our way. There are many predecessors to these types of novel confluences of music and speech. Vida’s love of Robert Ashley is well documented, but perhaps even more significant are Mark E. Smith and The Fall, Neil Tennant and the Pet Shop Boys’ spoken verses, the entire history of hip hop, Meredith Monk. The way the words are delivered matters just as much as the words themselves, revealing an intentionality and directness that Vida highlights and subverts with the text’s abstract construction patterns. On Oblivion Seekers, the omnidirectional din is the marble Vida chips away at to illuminate the way we process the vast strangeness of the world. Its triumph is that we lose none of the beautiful mystery of how these signs bridge our external and internal worlds.
The definitive release of Dubhei & New Chanel, the extraordinary musical work by Shinro Ohtake, known as an artist. Shinro Ohtake is currently known as an artist, but his career began in music. JUKE/19., which was among the first in Japan to respond to NO WAVE and incorporate it into their work, was far ahead of its time in 1980. Yet, their work quietly influenced many later artists. Yamataka EYE of Boredoms, in particular, openly acknowledged its immense influence, and in the 90s, he even started a duo with Otake himself, PUZZLE PUNKS (the unit continues to this day).
Dabuhei & New Chanel represents the ultimate expression of Otake's musical vision. This band, featuring guitar, bass, drums, keyboard, and turntables, was entirely remote-controlled, creating an extraordinary system where each stage performance itself became a work of art. Yamataka EYE was once featured in this system, performing with Destroy All Monsters, and his collaboration with Kazuhisa Uchihashi was also released as a CD work.
This release captures Dubhei & New Chanel's performance at the Toyama Prefectural Museum of Art's TAD space on the final day of the touring “Shinro Ohtake Exhibition,” which began at the National Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo in 2022. It is presented across three analog discs and two CDs.
For this performance, Toshiharu Toyama, a close ally who had worked with Ohtake and JUKE/19. since the early 80s, brought his own modified instruments and joined Dubhei & New Chanel mid-performance. Their playing plunged into a black hole-like sonic world that could never have emerged from Dubhei & New Chanel alone, creating an intense, condensed history of Ohtake's music starting from JUKE/19. , creating an intense experience that felt like a sudden condensation of the entire history of Ohtake's music, starting from JUKE/19.. Ohtake's live performance added to the ultimate industrial sound mass, creating a physical chaos.
Both the packaging and content differ between the analog and CD versions.
The analog packaging is unprecedented: a B-size silk-screen printed poster cut into three pieces, each housing one record, then all stored within a silk-screen printed clear case. When connected, they form a B-size silk poster. During cutting, the request was: “Blow out the bass at full volume—a lighter player might blow the needle off!”
Please note that the jacket image is a concept rendering and may differ slightly from the final visual.
Visionary electroacoustic explorations return as Black Truffle reissues Kassel Jaeger's Fernweh, a major work fusing musique concrète and synthesis into emotionally charged sonic landscapes of rare intensity.
Black Truffle is pleased to announce a new edition of Kassel Jaeger's Fernweh, returning François J. Bonnet's electroacoustic project to the label five years after the acclaimed Meith (BT069). Originally released on Giuseppe Ielasi and Jennifer Veillerobe's impeccably curated Senufo Editions in 2012, Fernweh stands near the beginning of the gradual expansion of Bonnet's approach after the austere acoustic textures of Aerae and Algae (both released on Senufo), leading to the lush, layered environments of recent solo works on Shelter Press and the epic electronic expeditions undertaken in duo projects with Stephen O'Malley and Jim O'Rourke.
A major work in the Kassel Jaeger oeuvre, stretching over two LP sides, Fernweh draws together synthesized and musique concrète materials into a drifting assemblage. Its title's meaning is close to the concept of 'Wanderlust', fitting for this music that moves freely and unexpectedly between what Bonnet calls 'climates'. Beginning with fizzing electronics whose rhythm of gradual approach suggests breaking waves, the clinical atmosphere is soon haunted by intangible traces of lived reality. Textures call up wind, water, insects, the crunch of feet on sand or the clinking of glasses, yet they can never be identified with any certainty. At times these concrete elements possess a vivid 'closeness'; at others, the sounds shade into a formless distance. Though the listener forms no clear picture from the concrete sounds, these elements aerate the music, lending it their space. Drawing from the rigorous formal language and conceptual apparatus of the French musique concrète tradition—with which Bonnet, as director of the INA GRM and researcher into its deepest archival recesses, is intimately familiar—the music of Kassel Jaeger is equally informed by how underground experimental music has rethought electroacoustic techniques, with Fernweh at times calling up the grit and grime of para-industrial eccentrics like Maurizio Bianchi or the Toniutti brothers, and at other moments suggesting the slow-moving grandeur of early Olivia Block.
Subtle features of dynamics and rhythm act as connective tissue between the numerous 'scenes', with wave-like envelopes, rapid pulsations, and short, tape-loop patterns all recurring throughout the piece, shared ambiguously between electronic and concrete sounds. Amid these shifting, often inharmonic textures, the electronic elements sometimes cohere into melodic shapes and chordal patterns, cutting through the fog in distorted arcs or underpinning the layered surface with slow-moving harmonies.
Like his friend and collaborator Jim O'Rourke, Bonnet displays a radical openness at odds with academic tradition, allowing unabashed emotion to coexist with rigorous experimentation. As Fernweh dies away with mysterious shudders, listeners are left at once moved and unsure of exactly what they just heard.
Forest Factory is the duo of fellow nomads Elvin Brandhi and Andreas Trobollowitsch. Each using self-made turntables, sampler and voice to create a unique acoustic repertoire, suffusing computational and organic tonalities. Their vinyl debut HOLZWEG is a compositional amalgamation of recording sessions made in diverse ecosystems: Auditorium Novecento, Naples (2023), Ruang MES 56, Yogyakarta (2024), and their Japan tour in 2024. Redefining themselves in a range of contexts lends fluidity and plurality to the topology of their aesthetic.