Sonic Symbiosis

Long form recorded ambient sound can provide a multi-level listening experience and something different to the experience of repetitive beat-based loops.

1.
Whilst listening to something like Ricardo Villalobos's epic looping Enfants (Chants) I begin to develop a hypnotic sense of minute change - something so minor that it would become an academic exercise of sound-wave analysis to tell exactly whether there is any change at all (something which I cannot see as being a worthy task even if I were inclined towards interest) - which is to say that the sound bends both my sense of time and my ability to focus upon a sample large enough to positively identify change in the music. The structure of this track is so well defined that after a time I feel that in some way my brain re-imagines the elements of the music and in doing so brushes on a sort of false-positive interpretation of progression - one which is not there and one which feels always to be on the brink of a defined and quantifiable expression. I cannot tell whether this is something intricately woven into the production of certain tracks and therefore a feature of the music, or whether it is a deliberate manipulation of a way the brain functions - or neither and simply an unwanted wavering from the purity of repetition - but it does raise questions of the fundamental interpretation of any music (and probably other things outside of music). As humans I feel that we always sit somewhere between two states of wanting, on the one hand we approve and crave repetition - a healthy way to live is one in which we have expectations that routines exist and we can accurately plan for the immediate future. On the other hand there is an expectation of progression - this is undeniable in as much as our love for capitalism, our need to explore the world, our thirst for knowledge and technology and our need to feel that we have ways to express our individuality &etc. Whilst these two states exist side-by-side, it is probably acceptable to generalise and say that whilst we crave change when we are young, the tendency, as a comfortable state is achieved, that we err towards repetition, predictability, we become somewhat accepting and happy to live with the nuance of perceived variety day-to-day and week-to-week, that is to say we become attuned to subtle variety and perhaps even imagined variety - whilst I am willing to swear tonight is unique, it is actually incredibly similar to any number of other nights I have experienced in the last few months, tomorrow will not be very different to every other friday in 2013. An ability to appreciate something repetitive is possibly an in-built given trait of an organism designed to live for 70 years or more and it is probably the exact reason why a piece of repetitive sound can become a nuanced and progressive trip and an experience rewarding beyond its basic elements. The idea that through the production of club music a sweltering mass of people can dance for hours on end implies the intricate link between person and soundwave and how much the brain adds to sound when it translates it to mental and physical experience.

2.
As I experienced today whilst immersed in Kevin Drumm's Night Side - a barely layered ambient piece clocking in around 61 minutes which appears to drift and swell imperceptibly - whilst the experience on headphones standing on a deserted platform somewhere in South London was one of great inversion, the feeling of glazed perception of the towering brick arches around me - my whole interpretation of the sound was changed whilst navigating the streets through a crowded London Bridge, where found I could zone in and out of noises outside of my bubble, the ambiance created a backwash to the environment which over time morphed and distorted the reality of the sound. After some time the environment and soundscape became so intertwined that it felt as though I could detect changes in the structure of the piece independently of the interference - these changes were at times subtle and at other times less so, but always impossible to define and therefore impossible to regard as truly present in the recording. I wondered whether this same change in interpretation of the sound would present themselves in a silent atmosphere or whether it were the external sounds creating undulations and ripples in the pool. It is hard to imagine that an external 'noise' element could create independent changes in the structure of a piece of music above the superposition of waveforms, though perhaps less tough to understand when you consider the way the brain is drawn to focus this way and that, adding a constantly varying spatial element to what is otherwise an immersible and insular sound experience.

Epitaph i

I think it was purely about creating slabs of ‘Exotic Hypnotics’; it was about forsaking any form of melody or traditional structure and building a mantra. 

- Karl O'Connor

End of Party

Artists talk emphatically about the end of the party, light rushes in, filling our consciousness and by dispelling a void of the visual, it closes off our hearing. Audibility fragments into a collection of whispers and as we drift towards the nearby exit our head fills gaps in the numbness with echoes of the just-past sound.

One of my most memorable musical experiences came as an unceasing wall of noise receded into nothing in a split second. The speaker system tripped a switch somewhere and what had built into a crushing force suddenly opened up into an instant and intense eternity of silence. The moment immediately following the silence felt like my sense of hearing had been ripped from me, residual shuffles and hums inaudible until my ears began to readjust, the dividing line between noise and silence was the most intense, as disorientating at the time as it is indescribable now. As my mind struggled to adjust to the change in sensory load, sounds became fractured; I experienced them differently, as if for the first time, I found myself lost for words as I tried to make sense of the morphing soundscape around me.

The transition from club to sofa in the early hours of the day brings with it a certain set of feelings, a way of experiencing the world under a new regime, through a new set of filters. Conversations have a lightened quality to them, the early morning light seems to paint a different set of colours. When people speak about this new music, post-rave music, they speak of a variable bpm, a speeding up or slowing down of their experience at different times of the day and under different frames of mind. It has a transient quality; the watershed between intense club experience and understatement of the waking world. It hints at the reasons for dance culture, sound pushed towards one extreme, to experience the world by blocking out visual dominence - hypnotising us for an extended period of time and enough to shift our experiences of the world and to renew and refresh the way we experience day-to-day.

Workshop sound

25th November 2012 12:00am - 05:00am

Working the decks and mixers, totally unassuming, an unbroken concentration all night from the Workshop label at ICAN Studios last night.

Tucked away in the back room there is a definite contrast as you step away from the rumbling jump-up jacking of Joy-O, who throws around recent epic tunes such as Blawan's "Why'd they hide..". All three sets built seamlessly from fragmented and intricate parts, nothing here hints at a build; the music is hypnotic and the pressure never lets up enough to let the mood drop. 

Even Tuell feels out the space, layering and tweaking sounds so as to craft a dreamy aura for his techno cuts.  There is never a feeling of spareness, yet the music never steps too far away from it's own framework so as to feel cluttered or over complicated. As Lowtec steps up the mood shifts almost indefinably; perhaps the tempo is slightly elevated. the kick-drum slightly punchier, but the feeling of unity remains between the two. The proceeding hour is hypnotic rolling techno, both original, challenging and yet unlike the preceeding 2. The differences between the sets are so hard to define and yet definitely there, Even Tuell deals in a slightly more laid back vibe and keeps his sound tightly married to the threaded techno samples, Lowtec drops in occasional nods to disco with threads of soulful groove. As we move past 3:00am Even Tuell drops back in and the two seem to dip in and out, moving back and forth between the decks, casually playing off of each other and blending the controlled styles of each into dubbed-out finale of simple, yet creative techno.

Later on Kassem Mosse's signature thump works the soundsystem hard, displaying his prominence and adding impact to the German label's controlled and immaculate sound; this element alone probably represents the reason for his legendary status, at least in the UK. As he steps up this gives the crowd what they are looking for, there is a noticeable increase in the energy on the floor, with the bass-heads suddenly relating and tuning in. Kassem drops in an at times bewildering array of samples, some half-vocals horribly clipped into an unrecognisable roar repeat over and over like the sounds of an early 90's PC game frozen in motion. There are sounds which hark at Kassem's Trilogy Tapes album with Mix Mup earlier this year, though nothing recognisable enough to be a direct drop. 

The Workshop label is a gem, delivering something refreshingly different from the "big tune" epicness of UK Bass whilst separating itself from the "big beat" thump of Berlin's driving techno sound. Each set tonight would warrant a beard-stroking analysis and deconstruction if it weren't for the fact that it's live energy were just too hypnotic to stop dancing.

Workshop 16 (Marcellis) - coming soon - Workshop Records

It stands to conceal

The foundations are all that's left, lined up board-game squares, uniform, brick rubble crumbling under the weight of political unrest.

Vatican Shadow deals in calculated repetition vs crushing noise; the project gained a bookend from the recent addition of Operation Neptune Spear - it reminded us of the heat that all that cold calculation was building to. The noisiest and harshest end of the Vatican Shadow spectrum actually offered respite; though probably taken to an extreme to serve a purpose - the live show - Neptune Spear was the endgame answer, the result of those rows of artillery and asymmetric warfare tactics.

 

 At the other end of the spectrum is the project's origin, and it is something almost more harrowing. This Vatican Shadow sound seems to drive almost entirely on repetition; atmospheric and entirely visceral, bound to militant imagery, binding and irrespirable. Though for something with such a unique and specific atmosphere, listening carefully highlights distinction. The tracks merge fragments into relatable realities, they offer immersion in a world that exists in news and on paper but also uncontrollably in so many people's lives.

 

 These three releases feel like a fractal shape spinning outwards as the global conflict gains scale - infantrymen who stumble across a wounded enemy, all bone and blood, feeling the cold touch of human empathy as the politics rages on around them. The real killer point of Vatican Shadow is its ability to highlight the abrasion of something uncontrollably rolling on, a feeling in human existence of being caught in something unstoppable, aligning ourselves simply by being. In times of covert control tactics you don't have to drive an Abrahams or even take to the street in support of a political leader to feel like you're taking sides. The grind of global conflicts and frictions echo in the people that are controlled and affected by them, and that's exactly what Vatican Shadow is all about.

Jordanian Decent serves two expansive pieces of grindingly repetitive tape loops, slowly evolving low-level-hums which seek progression slowly from minute flickers. Images of background conflict, conspiricy theories and a world-view scale of expansive atmospherics draw to a close mid-thought and beg to be left in a locked groove - the needle eventually degrading the sound to a fading crackle.

Atta's Apartment Slated for Demolition draws on the signiture Vatican Shadow sound of past releases, especially the Washington Buries.. series, investing in dark brooding scenes of small scale military intelligence and burning rubble in the aftermath of conflict. Here the sounds feel immersive rather than expansive - less abstract but just as degrading in their oppressive march.

Ghosts of Chechniya is a much more personal record, the relatively fragment-length tracks feel like glimpses on a human scale. Like the headlines and quotes from which their names derive, these are the personal stories of conflict, the newspaper cuttings from someone's personal war.

This is a project which manages to touch on conflict on every scale; so remarkable for its uniform and uncompromising approach to sound. Dominick Fernow always knew the most marketable material he would release under the guise was actually the noise elements, not exactly what you would expect, but his alignment with an industrial-sound revival (see: recent live shows w/ Blackest Ever Black) ensured a captive audience. Despite that, I can't help but think this collection is the defining release of one of the most captive musical projects out there.

It Stands to Conceal will be released come the end of the year on Hospital Productions, pressed to 911 copies on vinyl (pre-orders are here and here) 

All are available now on digital as individual releases (here).

listen here

unearthing something curious

Unearthing something curious.

The Von Archives website explains itself fully. Under INFO:

VON is a label interested in releasing experiments in contemporary visual and sound arts.
VON is interested in the intersection of the visual and sound arts
VON releases limited and special editions.
VON is run by artists.

The collection of mystifying faces presented under RELEASES.

Labels are barely required to provide any information about themselves, generally the music speaks for itself, people are left to gather the pieces from interviews and string an idea together from the sounds and artwork. This is usually plenty; more than most would consider necessary from a listener, but somehow it doesn't feel enough for Von. Under each face is a video, or a track, and a description of the backdrop to the release, the website feels like a carnival of oddities and despite some relatively well-known names; Aaron Dilloway, Prurient, Thomas Köner, Ghedalia Tazartes, also like an unfathomable puzzle.

There is such a strong feeling of unification from the artwork and images that it is hard to accept the variation in styles of music, to the point that links start to form where there are none. The image sticks with such clarity and such reality, the photographs that adorn the sleeves are so far away from abstract expression, that it is almost hard to accept the musical variety presented here. Like uncovering an old family album with no two subjects the same.

Many of these trailers have tempted me into multiple viewings, and I feel like this will draw a lot of my attention in the coming weeks.

Exerpt from Von017

Thomas Köner 

Futurist Manifesto

Soundtrack to a Morphine Dream (The Music of Green Wing)

Having spent the last couple of weeks in a kind of time-stasis, focusing all my energies towards job and future, and stepping well away from hard listening time, I'm about to write a little bit about something I've re-invested all my down energies to.

Green Wing is a sort-of hypnotic flow; stream of consciousness sitcom set in a hospital ward & occasionally outside it. The scenes are like individual sketches that meld together to form a coherent storyline; characters cross from one room to another on their daily rounds with personalities ranging from mildly over-the-top to completely bent out of shape mental.

Wiki it.

The absolutely gripping qualities that Green Wing possesses are without doubt the way it is shot and, more importantly, the soundtrack, which mirrors so many qualities of the show. The music occasionally reaches song snippets, but on the whole is a warped blend of electronic ambiance which creates a seamless flow to the scenes through mimicking the visual remixes and chop-ups of the edit.

All the way through the show, the music frames the visuals like a pink-tinted haze; you feel like the wandering patient, drugged-up to the eyes and wandering aimlessly through the hospital, creating your own characters for the doctors and admin staff you see day-in-day-out. Somehow without the music, the ridiculous element would swallow up some of the credibility of the storylines, and void  the emotional attachment you build with the characters as the show goes on.

The effect is like a half-reality, in which everything in the character build is emphasised, and emotions become amplified to the point that every inflection feels like profound insight. The trauma of the hospital environment is left to one side, with nods towards outside realities being touched on in barely sobering moments and always juxtaposed with humor. Instead, relations between the staff are built and dropped steadily over the course of two seasons, again the music always book-ending the peaks and troughs of created and failed relationships before it all melts away into a final bittersweet dream.

.. it's not how I imagined it would be, 

I suppose when I pictured it there was music 

 sort of, sad music ..

 

The music was mostly composed specially for the show, by an artist named Johnathon Whitehead, under the guise of Trellis, Whitehead has written soundtracks to some of the best British sitcoms of the last 20 years, but his work on Green Wing is undoubtedly his most enthralling. It was released as a soundtrack which is still available to buy, but really, like any great soundtrack, it just doesn't have the same edge without the story in the background. This is a meticulously composed and refined entity which is woven into Green Wing and makes it into a hypnotic and emotionally charged story. By the way, it's also brilliantly funny.