Philip Samartzis / Rasmus B. Lunding - Touch Parking

Philip Samartzis / Rasmus B. Lunding
Touch Parking
Synaesthesia
SYN 008

This duo collaborated once before on the very enjoyable “Fluorescent”, recorded in 2000 and issued on Dr. Jim’s Records in 2002. Loosely referring to their earlier work in more rock-based music, they created a simmering collage of abstract electronica with oblique references to melodies and rhythms but, more to the point, something of a pop-tinged glaze, a sweet sonic coating for tingly, arcane investigations; there are moments when Fennesz comes to mind. If you missed it first time around, it’s a good one to pick up.

Several years later the two reunite for “Touch Parking”, a vinyl release. A word or two is necessary about the record itself as an art object. I haven’t kept up on the recent history of illustration transfer to vinyl so perhaps this sort of thing is more common than I know, but the disc, designed by Kristian Vester (better known as Goodiepal) is striking. The background on each side is a striped sequence of confectionary creaminess, alternating rose-beige, black and hazelnut brown, with thinner white stripes between. Side one as an elaborate, almost baroque and kitschy representation of a couple in vaguely S&M garb (she in leather corset, black stockings and stilettos, he only in leather underpants), back to back, arms intertwined, performing an obscure though apparently pleasurable dance ritual. They’re surrounded by images of gritty sand into which have been embedded various marbles and other spherical objects. A gap in the sand reveals the inscription “Protecting The Hive”. Along the top, encased in purple squares, are four letters: capital “D’s” in the first and fourth positions with two runic characters between (Is the D itself a rune? Dunno.). Side B consists of those four letters repeatedly printed on the black stripe. I find it a more unsettling image than the outré one on Side A. Here, it reads like some impassive intimations of some alien genetic code.

It’s reasonable to say that the music on “Touch Parking” picks up where “Fluorescent” left off, edging a bit more into complexity and abstraction while certainly retaining some pop attributes. The overall sensation I derive from it is one of almost giddy adventure, of being in a vessel that scallops down into a specific sound-world, savoring a given slice before flitting to the next area in nervous anticipation. There are four tracks timing in at only about 24 minutes total but still leaving one well sated. As with much Australian eai I’ve heard in the last several years, the sonic separation is extraordinary; there’s a wonderful feeling of air between sounds. The first section, after a brief sample of public conversation, is aflutter with information (this is a release that amply repays repeated listening, always revealing more than you first thought was there), skittering between high flickers and low rumbles. Here, as periodically throughout the disc, there’s recurrent digital beep, a disquieting approximation of an alarm of some sort, an element that provides an underlying sense of unease to counterbalance the attractive surface sheen. On the next cut, a loosely metallic rhythm asserts itself (a pachinko sample?) and several others quickly bubble up to clamor for attention. Children’s voices, a far-off choir, PA announcements and more are churned into a rich stew. Surprisingly, the third piece begins with processed Jew’s harp (or some variation thereof) over jangling metal, soon joined by a cascade of rollicking drums, as though Han Bennink had just stumbled into the room. There’s a song of sorts interspersed, possible a commercial jingle, but one that to American ears surreally recalls the Mickey Mouse Club theme. While it’s the track that most overtly refers to rock and pop forms, there’s nothing of that in its structure which consistently confounds any such association, morphing at the end into percolating blips and static just when one might be settling in for a groove. “Touch Parking” closes in a work of only slightly troubled serenity, sets of pulsations looking for calmness, elbowed a bit by harsh intrusions and treacly pop samples before being erased entirely by a brief wash of sandy scrubbings.

It’s a lovely recording and a helluva lot of fun to boot. Limited to 300 pressings, if you’ve kept your turntable, you have to check it out.

http://www.philipsamartzis.com/music-touchparking.html

(also available through Erstwhile distribution)

~ Brian Olewnick