Michael Renkel - errorkoerper III

absinth
#9

First things first. absinth, a label known for its unusually gorgeous, oversized packaging, has shifted gears a little with this one, reducing the size, retaining the gorgeousity. “errorkoerper III” is printed in saturated tones of deep red and indigo on a thick, cream-colored paper that has an odd, feathery texture imparting a slightly damp sensation to one’s fingertips which, given the intense character of the colors, causes one to examine them for ink stains. Very cool. Every time I open the booklet I have the fleeting notion that I can lift and remove the luscious red central band as though it’s a strip of velvet.

I’ve been hot and cold on what I’ve heard from Renkel in the past but I admit to being very much sucked in by the opening sounds from this one: a couple of rich, thrumming bow-swipes on the guitar, opening chords that carried with them substantial promise. To some extent this promise is kept, though at 67 minutes, “errorkoerper III” arguably overstays its welcome a tad. In the accompanying note to the release, Renkel quotes the mathematical physicist Roger Penrose, “Most of the material of our bodies and brains, after all, is being continuously replaced, and it’s just its pattern that persists.” (a body of errors?) Renkel’s core approaches involve the use of both persisting rhythmic and melodic patterns though they’re each varied and camouflaged enough that there’s never really any heavy-handedness with regard to either. For instance, he’ll layer sonorous hums with wooden or metallic surface brushings in fairly short sequences of semi-regular rhythms tinted with some electronic detritus or faint radio captures, live improvisation mixed in with lots of post-processing. These elements will phase in and out, subside in volume to reveal cricket-sounds, perhaps, increase again as some quasi-industrial aspects hove into view; it’s not difficult to listen to as a kind of travelogue, in fact. There’s a certain horizontality to the piece, no real arc, simply motoring from point to interesting intersection. Indeed, given the above-quoted epigram, I’m tempted to try and listen to “errorkoerper III” as a kind of aural Penrose-tiling.

Renkel does a fine job of maintaining fascination for much of the piece’s duration, stirring together previously encountered sounds with newly discovered ones, changing the blend, giving apt consideration to both pacing and placement. Somewhere in its latter third, my interest began to wander a little. The elements and structure hadn’t particularly changed (though there are a few more recognizable guitar thwangs introduced); possibly it’s only that I feel the point has been made and needn’t be elaborated upon at this length. Others, of course, may differ and find the work’s time scale absolutely appropriate. With that relatively small caveat, I found the disc to be quietly rewarding and stimulating. There’s a kind of serenity and acuity of vision/hearing at work that’s quite enjoyable to contemplate. As with just about everything on this label, well worth a listen.

absinth