

Sedimental
Sedcd042
Alan Courtis, of Reynols renown, unleashes four feedback iterations inspired by ancient dolmens (prehistoric megalithic constructions). As a rule, I’m fond of the notion of isolating a single phenomenon and observing it closely but on three out of the four tracks here, Courtis does pretty much that and I find the results not entirely convincing. I have a sneaking suspicion that were I to hear the same music in situ, in some resonant, air-filled chamber, the effect might be substantially different but on disc, there’s a compressed, claustrophobic character (at least to my ears) that flattens the sound, graying it to a point where, after several minutes, my interest begins to wander. The first, second and fourth sections of the album each situate themselves in a fairly narrow range. The first uses low modulations that sometimes surge in amplitude enough to slightly distort. Over this is a slow, breath-like tone with echoes of an accordion (or, to be more geographically accurate, perhaps a bandoneon). On close listen, I was pretty sure I could just make out some bird sounds but the album notes inform me that absolutely no microphones were used so…All well and good. My issue is that I felt I’d pretty much gleaned what there was to glean fairly soon into the piece and its subsequent duration didn’t get across the idea that there was that much more to hear. This is generally not the case when one experiences quasi-similar sound fields out in the physical world where many complexities come into play; ideally I wanted to get at least a taste of those here. On the second track (the cuts are titled Parts I – IIII) , it’s as though Courtis shifted the pitch of his base tone upwards into a high, ringing zone and subtracted the bandoneon, but otherwise it reads much the same with a similar lack of mystery. Part III is the exception, beginning with bird-like, irregularly rhythmic pings (perhaps the source of the avian sounds I thought I picked up earlier) laid atop another ringing tone, but one with a subtler, richer feel than the previous track. There’s also, back in the distance, some hazy flute-like sounds. The mere fact that they evoke sonic distance opens this piece up far more than the others. Here, the relative abundance of elements, far from being distracting, serves to give the music a degree of corporeality that I find both credible and quite beautiful. The final track reverts to the basic structure of the first two, the feedback somewhat more strident and harsh, flavored with some eerie soprano moans but otherwise not consistently involving. A mixed bag for this listener, though I can easily imagine many people deriving more from it than I did.

Sedimental
Sedcd043
Fellow Argentinean Gabriel Paiuk’s “Res Extensa” is something else entirely. Better known as a pianist, this single work utilizes multitudinous sources, none of them pianistic. Paiuk’s universe, from opening low hum overlaid with subtly grainy and messy environmental sound, engages immediately. There are a pair of faint clicks that repeat for a bit, the hum modulates, static—several levels of static—intrudes. The listener is plunged into a breathing, chaotic, fascinating world, dark, slightly moist, posing far more questions than giving answers. About six minutes in, the piece abruptly stops and basically restarts; the same hum for several seconds. But it’s as though you’re put in the same initial anteroom and a different door is quickly opened, this one to a related area or multiple statics and field recordings, but possessing greater breadth and light. These short breaks occur now and then, the point of view shifting prismatically, not disjointedly. There’s an overall sense of calmness, sometimes of tilting one’s head so as to get a slightly different aural register—a muted TV from that direction, faraway traffic from this. Was that some orchestral strings tuning up? While there’s no overt “musical” content, I get something of the same luxuriant, sensual feeling I do from label-mate Olivia Block’s work (high praise from me). Wonderfully paced, unfailingly captivating, “Res Extensa” is certainly one to hear. Excellent stuff.
Posted by Brian Olewnick on May 2, 2006 3:34 PMI'm glad to see this review, which means that someone else appreciates this release besides me!
I tend to habitually make film references when I write about music, and this one definitely brought to mind Michelangelo Antonioni for me, which is why I invited him to participate in a future project pertaining to Antonioni's "Tetralogy" of films from the late '50s/early '60s.
Paiuk is one of several new and interesting artists to surface from Argentina over the past couple years who should (in my opinion) receive more acclaim for their well crafted work (Richard Garet, now residing in the US, and Juan José Calarco come to mind as well). I hope to help change that with work to be featured on future and/OAR releases by all of the artists mentioned above. Oh, and as it turns out, Olivia Block (who was referenced in the review) will too!
Cheers,
Dale
What's the fourth film in the tetralogy? Deserto Rosso?
Thanks for reminding me about this disc Dale, I remember enjoying it very much when it came out. But since Alan has released about 400 discs since, it's got buried at the bottom of the Courtis pile. Also wanted to tell you how much I liked Hitokomakura - splendid compilation (& as you know I'm not always a fan of compilations). Keep up the good work
.................................................. © 2003 - 2006 bagatellen ..................................................