Absurd (and a couple of others) mini round-up

Through the good graces of label-meister Nicolas Malevitsis, I recently found myself in possession of a small slew of releases on Absurd and affiliated (or at least related) sub-labels, dating from within the last couple of years, none of which, as near as I can tell, have been written up on Bags. And most of them are certainly worth a listen. I said, “most of them.” So….. (I was only able to find images of a few—if I can locate others, I’ll edit)

Boca Raton (Martijn Tellinga) – Mansdoof
Absurd #36

Operating under the nom “Boca Raton”, Tellinga offers a suite of ten fairly short dark and dirty soundscapes, apparently cobbled together largely from manipulated field recordings. Expansive interior acoustics, water sounds, metallic scrapes, mechanical rasping, all strung together with both deftness and a quasi-narrative touch. It’s difficult not to imagine oneself walking through these dank and threatening environs, step by tentative step. Activity morphs and volume levels fluctuate. There’s some wonderful spatial separation and deliciously contrasting sets of noise. Toward the middle of the work (track 5), Tellinga slides into some purely electronic elements which weaken the momentum that had been built to that point but he redeems himself and then some with the harrowing and explosive 6th track, one point of which is guaranteed to cause drink spillage. Things eddy off in generally interesting fashion after this, though the end seems rather abrupt and arbitrary. Overall, pretty decent stuff.

Edition of 131

Looper – Squarehorse
Absurd #45

Looper is Nikos Veliotis (cello), Martin Kuchen (saxophone) and Ingar Zach (percussion) and “Squarehorse” is one of the best things I’ve heard in a while. It’s been mentioned here at Bags a few times over the past year in connection with Veliotis’ “Radial” or Kuchen’s solo disc, “Music from One of the Provinces in the Empire”, always positively and the “Radial” allusion seems particularly apt. Two lengthy tracks (24 & 38 minutes), resolutely quiet but not at all serene, backboned by Veliotis’ amazingly concentrated and rich arco, with Zach gently tapping or piercingly bowing metal and Kuchen more often than not effervescing into the space between them, only occasionally standing apart enough to be individually recognized. The first piece stays pretty much within a certain, roughly-textured drone area. The second varies a good deal more and it’s a beautiful journey. While the steady-state aesthetic dominates, all sorts of colors, combinations and offsets occur, never less than fascinating; a remarkable piece. Prismatic is an obvious term that comes to mind. Had I heard it back then, I’m pretty confident this would’ve made my best of 2004 list.

Negative Entropy – M.S. Stubnitz – Stockholm
Absurd #46

Apparently recorded in the bowels of the ship bearing the same name, Negative Entropy (Michael Prime of Morphogenesis fame and Geert Feytons of Noisemaker’s Fife) construct an ominous, dystopic, necessarily claustrophobic soundscape propelled by vaguely iterative patterns and drones. One track, running some 47 minutes, I found my interest flickering from time to time, enjoying the more bitter areas but finding others just a tad on the spacey side for my taste. As the piece unfurls, those elements, echoing out into the hull I suppose, softened the edges enough that my attention gradually wavered. Somehow, I wanted more rigor, more sinew in this particular journey. Not bad, but ultimately a little disappointing.

Edition of 488

If, bwana – Gruntle
Absurd #48

Gotta love the nom. Four pieces by Al Margolis, dating from 1995 to 2002, largely concerned with welters of blistering, chaotic noise, the bastard grandchild of Tudor’s “Rainforest”. “bwana bass loops mit e-bow” contrasts curls of relatively warm hum with fluttering blasts of feedback that’ll have you ripping off your headphones with a yelp. A good, strong piece. Though I’m unfamiliar with it, I know Margolis has done work with and for Experimental Intermedia and things like this sound right up that alley. “20 Violins (v. 2)” is one of the things that reminds me a bit of “Rainforest”, not so much in its scratching and squeaking tonalities as in the floral and faunal density and abundance of sound; it’s like a jungle floor festering with microscopic activity. The wayward twins, “gruntle” and “(dis) gruntle” are mostly synth driven and have something of a haywire toy factory atmosphere to them (the latter with Sun Ra cast as the harried foreman). In fact, at least as evidenced by the pieces collected here, Margolis seems to tend toward the treble; very little in the way of deep, low tones to be found here. Nice record.

Alfredo Costa Monteiro – Stylt
Absurd #52

Designed “for pick ups on turntable”, “Stylt” roars into action, all enormous, ragged drones and swirling harsh noise. The amount of pure *sound* Costa Monteiro’s able to generate is staggering and, as is often the case with his work, it’s structured beautifully. It’s really interesting when such pure “noise” is so immediately acceptable as a kind of musical element; there’s very little readjustment one has to do here—it just is. It’s very curious to me why this works in some instances (at least to my ears) and fails in others when, objectively, the ingredients are fairly similar. It boils down to specific choices made and not made, I imagine, and Costa Monteiro has near perfect cacophonic pitch on “Stylt”. Unrelenting and fierce, “Stylt” is one impressive release.

Edition of 99

Ferran Fages/Will Guthrie – Cinabri
Absurd #56

And if you thought that was ferocious….Fages (acoustic turntable—have we accurately defined this yet?) and Guthrie (amplified percussion) simply tear the place apart from the get-go on “Cinabri”, a 2006 release. Whatever the makeup of the device wielded by Fages, it and Guthrie’s percussion combine for a supremely assaultive, utterly brutal foray, a volcanic attack peeling paint from walls and insulation from speaker wire. The second track is the finest thing of it’s kind I’ve heard in a while, beautifully constructed, unremittingly harsh and powerful, some sort of propeller growling, metal being thrown against floors, who knows what else. The next piece is only slightly calmer, still chock full of wonderful percussive elements, including that same empty spray paint can that Krebs was using (!), before concluding with a sublime crash. OK, the final track, all two and a half minutes of it, is something of a letdown but I’m more than willing to cut these fellows some slack. Clocking in at a mere 27 minutes, this is my favorite disc of the young year. Get this.

Fagus – Dans l’Involucre Entre Ouvert
A Question of Re-Entry 1

I imagine each of us has some defined point at which, more or less, we determine that the aural input we’re receiving changes from “music” into “noise”. Or enjoyable noise into disagreeable noise. Not that this is necessarily the correct way to view things and perhaps some of you have succeeded in freeing yourselves to the extent that this is no longer a concern. But probably not, else why are you wasting your time reading about discs? In any case, “Dans l’Involucre Entre Ouvert” (a phrase I’ve been unable to translate, by the way; I’d appreciate anyone’s assistance) damn near straddles that line for me. Fagus, incidentally, is Ferran Fages, once again manipulating an acoustic turntable, and Pascal Battus on (you knew this was coming) “acoustic Walkman”. It’s not just that it’s loud and obnoxious (or quiet and obnoxious). Hardly a concern, after all. It’s just that much of the disc seems pointlessly loud/quiet and obnoxious. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be worried about such an archaic concept as “pointlessness” but curse me for an old fart, those thoughts do creep in. Somewhere, I distinguish between what I perceive to be just screwing around and noise I enjoy listening to and a good half of this disc, sad to say, fell on the side of the former. However, if I stand back and listen to the six tracks as a connected work (not that there’s any particular reason to do so), I can almost form it into a semi-coherent whole. The fourth track, “Engleriana” (nice titles!), begins to whir its way into my heart, mostly soft clatter and gentle croaking with the odd harsh—very harsh--accent. This diminution in disagreeableness continues in both “Multinervis” and the closing “Sinensis”, both rather lovely tracks, causing me to like the second half of the disc about 20 times more than the first. Which perhaps is its point.

Kalorifeur – Within the Hermitage
Editions_zero #9

And then there’s Kalorifeur. From what little I can glean from the web, I take it this is a duo. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. I also see the pair referred to as “lo-fi”. Well, I guess, if by “lo-fi” what’s meant is, “music your 11-year old little brother would have once concocted for the express purpose of making you want to knock his teeth out.” Sounds appear to often be constructed from things lying around the house—track two, “Chinhua”, opens with a vacuum cleaner—which would be absolutely fine except for an insistence on overlaying beats of the most schlock-rocky kind. Let’s take the interesting banality of the vacuum and contrast it to the boring banality of these rhythms? Maybe. Do I care? Nuh-uh. Track 3 (I’d spell it out but my keyboard lacks an omega) is one ham-fisted low tone. Wouldn’t have thought I’d ever hear a simple tone that could be described as ham-fisted. It goes on. Elfin ditties with moans and chirps, metal banging over staticky Arabic radio (almost not half-bad, actually), a 15-minute mélange of hum, voice, strangled guitar and other squeaks (intermittently effective), and finally some super-duperly aggravating “Happy Birthday/London Bridge” medley on what sounds like an ancient video game console. I’m looking forward to returning to this disc in several years, shocked at how little I grasped back in 2006. Anything’s possible.

Edition of 199