Burkhard Beins - Disco Prova

Absinth

There’s something of the sketchbook in Burkhard Beins new solo album, “Disco Prova” (I believe it’s his first solo effort, as near as I could tell). It’s not just the relative brevity of most of the seven tracks but more that each is fairly circumscribed as to approach, the means of attack on each piece elaborated to some extent in his liner notes on the back of the oversized sleeve.

Of course, sketchbooks can be fine and deep on their own and Beins’ recording is perfectly enjoyable in that regard. The slinky voice of the gentleman announcing the album’s title, an Italian hifi test record, feeds into white noise and field recordings of water; it’s brief but does a nice job counterposing a handful of elements. That utilization of just a scant few types of sound per track is the dominant strategy here, whether it’s clicks from a gas igniter, manipulations of old environmental tapes or more standard instrumentation like cymbals and floor toms. There’s a tinge of the laboratory at play which robs the shorter pieces of the impact they might otherwise have, something that had part of me wanting to hear a collaborator to jostle things a bit, to upset the Petri dish.

Happily, the longest cut on the disc (some 12 minutes), “Sekante”, succeeds marvelously on its own despite apparently having a similar science experiment bent:

The sounds, drones and pulses in Sekante were recorded by two microphones placed inside a large polystyrene box, amplifying oscillations and friction sounds exerted on a 12-meter string attached to it.

However it’s managed, Beins creates a swirling vortex, like frigid air rapidly flowing through large, thin metallic pipes, the speed of flow causing thrums of sympathetic vibrations. It’s a fantastic piece, reminding me a bit of his work on “Lidingo”, worth the price of the album.

Beins closes with an effective, somber dedication to Joy Division’s Ian Curtis.

absinth