ERIC LA CASA & CEDRIC PEYRONNET – LA CREUSE review

Brain Dead Eternity – Massimo Ricci

Being magnanimous, we could say that the majority of field recording-based albums is pleasant to listen once, maybe twice. True, some are much better than others; this depends on the individual predispositions and inner ear(s) of those who collect the sounds and assemble them in (optimistically speaking) cogent compositions. But there’s also a major risk of disappearance of the record amidst thousands of irrelevant collections of singing blackbirds, solitary steps on a lake’s shore and sparkling waters. Did I mention insects and wind? Face it: not everybody is a Francisco López. To craft a meaningful artifact influenced by the outside (and inside) world requires an awful lot of energy, a good dose of luck, creative talent to spare and something – unachievable by many – that cannot be expressed by mere concepts and definitely not “taught”. La Creuse is an outstanding album that reaches the fundamental objectives of this genre. La Casa and Peyronnet (the latter typically known as Toy.Bizarre) have already established their competence in dealing with this type of project in the past, the respective careers filled with fine demonstrations of perceptiveness and open-mindedness. For the occasion, they chose to “represent in sonic terms (…) a triangular area in the north of the Creuse department in central France”, in order to “give landscape a sonic corporeality”. Each artist applied a method of reciprocal manipulation of the materials gathered by the companion, thus producing a uniquely special mix of sources that surely sounded unrefined and essentially different at the origin. All the foreseeable factors of such a kind of release are present, yet not a single minute of commonplace can be individuated. Better still, the pieces are perceived as hybrid formations of raw matters and electronics; a few choice-defining discoveries and procedures related to the artists’ “surveys” in the region are indicated in the CD booklet (in French language). A flawless meshing of natural subsistence and human involvement, utterly splendid in any form, shape and state – liquid, solid, electric, gaseous, you name it. Nonetheless, this is an impenetrable work: even after listening to it five or six times over a weekend, it’s ceaselessly revealing minuscule clues and previously unseen facets yet it really doesn’t want to be even tenuously remembered, except for its quintessence. It sounds like an infinitesimal segment of life with its pros and cons, just as when we hurriedly bring out a camera trying to catch that wonderful sunset: the consequent picture, as perfect as it may be, inevitably can’t enclose the full extension of the sky. Then again, who – besides yourself, having lived the direct experience – will ever be able to share the emotion? That’s right: nobody. Certainly not with words, or by showing that photo to unresponsive lookers. This is precisely the point: La Creuse is as an inexplicable episode as being the testimony to a rare event which unfolds exactly when one happens to be there by coincidence. Neither “music” nor “environment”, it has to do with creation. No – make that “Creation”, with the capital C. It won’t give anything to commit to memory; an unusual sort of understanding, yes – that’ll be granted, only after forgetting about selfish needs. Don’t be surprised if you feel genuinely inadequate after this. Those echoing auras heard throughout the record are the voices of your living, flowing away through the fingers of a fruitless illusion.

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Jean-Luc Guionnet NON-ORGANIC BIAS

PM (Goh Lee Kwang / Olaf Hochberz) Live Actions – Berlin review

Vital Weekly 663 Frans De Waard

Behind PM are Goh Lee Kwang (mixer feedback) and Olaf Hochberg (piezo). I remember reviewing a rather obscure 3″CDR by them, but this one is actually quite nice. Four pieces, recorded in three different places in Berlin, with only few days in between (so you can tour a city!) of an endless stream of feedback like sounds and small crackles and big noise. It emerges on the borders of improvised music, electro-acoustic, microsound as well as noise. I know this sounds like a strange mixture, but it works well here. A great work, a strong leap forward.

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Beequeen TIME WAITS FOR NO ONE review

Bad Alchemy 61
Das mit seinem Titel die Rolling Stones zitiert, hatte 1994 noch Marilyn Monroe auf dem Cover, jetzt bei dieser Wiederveröffentlichung eine völlig zerbombte WW II-Stadtmondlandschaft. I really think it matches the original Monroe-cover when it comes to beauty, gibt sich Freek Kinkelaar dazu hartgesotten. Er & Frans de Waard schienen aber bereits in Marilyn ein Vanitas-Motiv zu umkreisen, das deuten zumindest Titel wie ’The Shore of Leaves’, ’Illusions’ und ’Perhaps perhaps perhaps’ an. Da könnten ihnen durchaus Mick Jaggers Zeilen Drink in your summer, gather your corn; The dreams of the night time will vanish by dawn durch den Kopf gegangen sein. Aber wo fände man keinen Anlass für Melancholie und dystopische Ahnungen? Die ’Furie des Verschwindens’, mit der schon Hegel und H.M. Enzensberger per Du gewesen sind, imprägniert den Dreamscape der beiden Niederländer mit einer Tristesse, die jenseits von Gesten der Auflehnung um eine poetische Einstellung zum Unvermeidlichen bemüht scheint. Das rituelle Getrommel von ’Fafagg’ sagt wohl: Nach uns die Steinzeit. Bei ’V-Time’ ist das Getrommel industrial geworden, ein monoton rotierender Morlock-Beat auf vollen Touren, der bei ’Illusions’ schon wieder archaisch ausdünnt zum Toktoktok, neben dem einer zu versuchen scheint, aus Feuerstein Funken zu schlagen. ’Perhaps…’ lässt dann wie von einer Klangschale einen ’singenden’ Oberton dahin schweifen, bevor das 21-min. ’Six Notes on a blank Tape’ mit nachhallenden Dongs einsetzt und dunkles Gewummer – wie von einem Bombengeschwader? – die Luft erfüllt. Eine Geige kratzt diskant und kaputt. So klingen die ersten Notizen. Weitere, ähnlich düstere, und ein Ritornell des Getrommels, aufs Äußerste alarmiert, folgen. Der Zahn der Zeit hat dem bisher nichts anhaben können. Und Schönheit liegt im Auge des Betrachters.
- Rigobert Dittmann -

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Goh Lee Kwang DRAW SOUND review

Vital Weekly = Number 653 – Week 47

Despite the fact that there are 98 tracks on this 3″CD, it still lasts only 8.40 minutes. On the disc face there is a picture of the coin of 1 eurocent. If you listen to the music, you hear the sound of a coin falling on a table, or several coins, perhaps. I am not sure if there is some sort of electronic processing going here, but I don’t think. Tracks are very short, obviously, and if you look at the CD player, it looks like a cash register going up. A fascinating, conceptual release. Which is hard to say about the booklet that comes it with, with pencil drawings by Goh Lee Kwang of a highly abstract nature, or perhaps a highly naive nature. Its what some people prompt to say: my 2 year old is better at this. The soundwork is great though, and not without humor: ‘track 89 performed by Woody Sullender’.

- Frans De Waard -

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Beequeen TIME WAITS FOR NO ONE review

Touching Extreme – NOV 2008

The duo of Frans De Waard and Freek Kinkelaar, Beequeen belong to the bulky file of musical entities that I’ve been familiar with for many, many years – but only nominally. Believe it or not, your over-enthusiastic reviewer had never listened to their records before, although meeting the name on every mail order list of the last decade and a half. This reissue of a 1994 Staalplaat release fits perfectly in the ice-breaking experience, as inaugurating my acquaintance with the project by listening to an earlier-period outing is perhaps a good thing. Credited with “instruments, electronics, treatments, voices”, De Waard and Kinkelaar seem to know what they’re doing since the very beginning. What they actually do is eliciting outlandish kinds of resonance, generally from the vibration of one or more strings or single notes (i.e. the opening of “Six notes on blank tape”), while adding lots of oscillating high frequencies (“Rupert writes a rainbow” fuses the best of two worlds in that sense) and trance/ritual waste materials. You might often be tempted to call this record drone-based, yet it’s not exclusively that: the vu-meters indicating the level of abstractness point to the red area quite frequently, and there’s nothing that can be acceptably defined as monothematic or minimal, unless we want to consider enthralling looped segments as such (“The shore of leaves” being dazzling stuff indeed, somehow reminding yours truly of Zoviet France; the same goes for the percussive “V-time”). In essence, this album still sounds modern enough for us not to neglect it, leaving the door of the room of past experience ajar to get a glance at our memories. Even those about previously unheard music.

- Massimo Ricci -

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Goh Lee Kwang ROOM SOUND review – vital weekly

VITAL WEEKLY = number 546 – week 40

Herbal Records label owner Goh Lee Kwang’s previous releases weren’t all that convincing so far, but this release quite is. It’s the first thing he did when arriving in Berlin, recording it on his miniDV camera (sound only). Subtitled ’solo improvisation with DJ mixer’, he explores the various possibilities of the machine, ranging from sheer silence to feedback noise, but has a level of control, which doesn’t let thing go out of hand too much. The noise bits are sometimes uncontrolled nasty frequencies (such as in the sixth, untitled, piece), but when he takes matters back, volume wise, it’s intense, playful and carefully constructed. So far the best release I encountered by him. – Frans De Waard -

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Beequeen TIME WAITS FOR NO ONE review

VITAL WEEKLY = number 643 – week 37

“Time waits for no one”. How true that is; took me quite some of it, to get to actual writing on this latest offering from Beuys aficionados “Beequeen”. This re-release of the 1995 album, has been spinning in my player for quite some months now, and I try to make myself believe that 2 or 3 months more, do not affect the discourse. After all, this album has been out there for quite a bit already and as opposed to the title, this album doesn’t sound outdated at all. Unfortunately I cannot do the test of comparing it with the original, but I have to say that the re-mastering (care of Jos Smolders) is crystal clear and carries a warm vibe. Okay, so the overall feel brings back thoughts of droney tribalism a la Zoviet France and/or soundscape experimentation a la Hafler Trio, but still today Stockhausen and Henry sound fresh to me. Modern day droneys like Uton or Datashock do not acknowledge their roots either. “Time Waits for no one” is a great album that spreads about a certain calmness and that grows on you after repeated listens. Sometimes the edges get a bit sharper but the overall atmosphere is moody, dark and eerie. Not depressive though, more the contemplative kind or the ideal setback to repent one’s sins. Apart from that is it also interesting for the new listeners that got more acquainted with recent albums like “Sandancing” or “The Body Shop”. Essential listening so to speak; a piece of history brought back to life by the gentle folks at Herbal International. (Steffan de Turck)

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Beequeen TIME WAITS FOR NO ONE review

Time Waits For No One’s material isn’t new, having been recorded in Nijmegen in 1992-93 and originally released in 1994 on Staalplaat, but the genre of experimental drone-based exploration is one of those most capable of transcending time. Beequeen members Freek Kinkelaar (Brunnen) and Frans de Waard (Kapotte Muziek, Goem) use electronics, voices, and unidentified instruments to scatter two long tracks (ten and twenty minutes) amongst seven more modest settings. Whether long or short, the pieces are largely hazy meditations whose industrial churn is speckled with string plucks, percussive patterns, and electronic effects. Not surprisingly, the long tracks make the strongest impression: in the episodic “Six Notes on Blank Tape,” bowed scrapes of string instruments groan over a throbbing bass drone and the simulated roar of a train clatters along its tracks, and in the album’s most fully-realized piece, the a doomscape “Rupert Writes a Rainbow,” a ‘50s sci-fi synthesizer floats atop a droning unfurl of whooshes and gaseous emissions. The album’s material unfurls organically in subtle strokes, sometimes so quietly it verges on microsound, and the generally relaxed feel suggests the collaborators had ample studio time with which to pursue their playful explorations.

Textura.org

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