Nouvelles Aventures
Read on The Sound Projector
Surprise,
surprise ! This seems to be the common denominator in all three records
here, though they do not operate in the same field, as Thomas Ankersmit takes the listener for a ride on the Serge analogue synthesizer, while Alexei Borisov/Anton Mobin conjugate tapes and electronics, dictaphone/voice, and Marc Baron exhumes his Hidden Tapes
and plays with the readymade artifacts he supposedly dug out of memory.
All three works are very much controlled ones, or so it appears to me,
and the outmost quality I found there is a deep sense of adventure being
offered : as a Raymond Roussel aficionado, I appreciate these three
different trips around (and away from) my own room, blindfolded and
headphones on :
Alexei Borisov / Anton Mobin
Try to Crawl Out of It
POLAND MATHKA CD (2013)
Somewhere else is where Alexei Borisov and Anton Mobin take us :
their seemingly improvised delivery starts with clinical clicks that
introduce resounding whip-cracks and reverberating bells : bouncing bass
strings come and go, suspended time draw a prelude : anticipation,
preparation, one expects a sudden dive : tension builds up to a concert
of winding springs and rattles, inter-cut with mashed metal ! Tapes are
somehow unwinding at high speed, spelling more start/stop/rewind action.
Words here are mouthed as confessions or even a forgotten poem, with
some hiccup-piano rather detuned (or is it my ears), looped. Blips and
cuts, curves and hisses, snippets obliterating a conveyor belt-like
chain, all crash and then erupts some tape-music. Down phased low
sounds, while someone is busy manipulating unnamed objects, bells clang,
machine stops. All along, there’s clattering going on with feedback,
while a click-track allows a slight cadence; speech, multiple presences,
the assembled music builds up, a pulse beats on ! People sometimes
voice things over electronic dynamics, and all converge to a motor-like
generator sound, gently humming as round shapes build up again,
preceding interruption, with feedback sirens, and a beating heart can be
heard behind simultaneous events. The beat frenzies upward and melts
again, crashing like waves on the shore. It’s a high energy trip we’re
going through, not some new-age meditation session.
Electronic
glissandi introduce rotor movements, and here comes the gentle machine
again, a grainy motor-thing spilling particles, shaking the air (though
one can breathe). A beautiful fade-out even reverberates here and there.
We’re dealing with a less clinical world here, though its adventurous
qualities never suppress your air : you don’t suffocate the least bit,
no.
Grains, blocks being moved, volumes changing, fast shrapnels,
fluids; rotating landscape, whipping elements flying over. Sparks, as it
sounds like. The whole soundscape here seems highly mineral, but with
an inflammatory quality to it. As for the two other records, things
sound like nothing unusual, nothing alien : operations giving shape to
the sounds are like necessary ones : everything is precisely executed
(or so it seems, according to a procedure) : whether there are mash-ups,
they have to happen whenever they do. Then, surprise, concluding a
breathy running sequence, a terminal punch brutally hits. You hadn’t
seen it coming.
All along the successive tracks, we meet scraps of
“romantic” songs punctured with obvious seams, fast material flying by,
voices and vehicles. A subtle cooking of mashing explosions,
firecrackers of bouncing elements, tapes winding/unwinding, strings,
feedbacks on more clicks and cuts, along with cartoonish beings
expressing urgency : communication deteriorates to a climax.
There’s
something ritual, processual, building, that allows forms to emerge, in
this record. One gives birth to a form, but it is inconstant, hard to
sustain : a construction, tense and striving to keep its balance, that
which is constantly attacked. Signals abound, like probes sent into the
surroundings.
Around the end appears a crushing pandemonium
conjuring a fun-fair animation : children, garlands. The dark visual
information itself conveys this edgy quality, it’s mad as successive
thoughts erupt and vanish madly within one person, within seconds.
samedi 20 septembre 2014
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