JAMES JOHNSON

Linger

Echoes

Environment 1 EP

Atmoworks (2003)

James Johnson is, without question, one of the most interesting and prolific practitioners of classic Eno-esque ambience currently making music today. I know of no other artist devoted to Eno-style ambient drift that succeeds so dramatically, without betraying his influences. While the echoes of past masters' works clearly inform Johnson's music, he has created his own voice within this template: creating ambient that reminds of memorable classic releases but retains Johnson's own distinct flavor.

Johnson has released three new discs in the past months, all in a minimalist, atmospheric vein. They fit well together as a triptych, and thus I will review all three at once.

Linger may be familiar to Johnson listeners due to its earlier release as an MP3.com D.A.M. disc. This release went out of print, so Johnson wisely chose to reissue it as a newly mastered disc (the D.A.M. CD suffered from murkier sound due to its MP3 nature). I'm glad to see this surface--I've always felt it to be one of Johnson's best and most memorable discs. Linger has changed slightly with its reissue--the track "Floating and Dreaming" has been omitted to allow the release of the new "Twilight Impressions" (each of the other tracks are trimmed slightly to allow the new track to fit on the disc). I was saddened to see the former go, but the new track is just as interesting and beautiful (as well as a collaboration with Toronto's dreamSTATE). "Linger" begins the disc with a long, murky track of On Land-style hushed ambience. This is a deep, rainy atmosphere with faint gonging chimes and inexplicable sounds that conjure up images of soft, desolate moors or fields in chilled winter. Somehow these deserted areas are beautiful, perhaps due to their timeless, unpeopled nature, giving them a glow of magic amongst lifelessness. The strengths of On Land are heavily evident on this track. Next, we have the before-mentioned "Twilight Impressions" which shifts the tone considerably from the natural to a more synthetic and spaced-out environment. Fans of the driftier selections in the Silent Records catalog (for example, The Heavenly Music Corporation's excellent Anechoic) will find much to enjoy here as impressively resonant synth slices dazzlingly meld with Johnson's echoed synth (similar to that heard on Minimum). This track was created more recently than the rest of Linger, and it shows. It fits comfortably with the rest of the album: its pleasures are evident and I'm glad to see it released. Eventually, the track morphs down to a harmonic driftscape as guitar tones and subdued vocalizations push the track through zones of light and opacity. Next is the stunning "Riding the Fog Line" which starts with gorgeous synth tones and Johnson's signature angelic synth-choir (heard on Unity, as an example). This psychedelic melange is accompanied by a groove that chugs along at clipper-ship speed. This is not at all cloying, and fits well with the ambience--the mixture gives the impression of speeding along aboard a swift skimmer along the ocean's edge; leaving only vapor trail and ocean surf in our wake. This is a perfect combination of Johnson's more kinetic synthworks and his subtle atmospheric flavors, and is absolutely a highlight of Johnson's total work. Next is "Siren Song," a traditional instrumental piano piece similar to "Remembrance" on Surrender. Again, gorgeous work proving Johnson can channel Harold Budd, as well as Brian Eno, without sounding hackneyed. Finally, we have "Frequency Shift" (now blended in with the previous track) which is quite similar to "Riding the Fog Line" but without the groove. Here Johnson gives us a slice of pure atmospheric drift, a lovely compliment to the rest of the album which oscillates from natural to synthetic, but is always gorgeous.

Three years passed before Echoes was released and time has surely changed Johnson's work into a different, though related, beast. According to the liner notes, Johnson has created a system to randomly generate "soundfields" with elements Johnson has previously recorded. Similar to Eno's Discreet Music, these systems then create ambient music in ever-shifting structures. While this concept is interesting, listening to Echoes often leaves me with the feeling that these tracks are a bit "samey"--though the input is human, often the output is less stunning than its constituent parts. "Echoes" is a great start, with almost Paul Schutze percussives adjoined with bassy tones, pretty synth-ambience, and the occasional piano texture. This particular piece feels quite composed--I was unable to determine that the sources were randomly placed since everything seemed so perfectly synched. Not so with "Rosetta Bloom" which has somewhat piercing, echoed synth textures blipping along with randomly scattered synth ambience. The parts never do quite gel here, with a randomness that makes the sonic environment a bit more chaotic than soothing. "Eastern Haze" is more successful, though it relies on echoed synth sequences that often cloy the pretty ambient backing material. While "Riding the Fog Line" had a groove that enhanced the ambience, this particular (though light) groove tends to overpower the gorgeous things going on "behind the action." The synth does not vary considerably over the fifteen minutes, making for something of a Phyrric victory--the ambient undertones are interesting enough to keep the listener's attention, but the overlying groove is just a little too "in your face" for comfort. Next is "A Subtle Conjuring" which brings the album to a more evocative place--this magician works with subterran synth that weaves around the listener's body as it lulls into an opiate sleep. This is a highlight of Echoes, as the Eastern-tinged ambience brings to light an ancient feeling of torch-lit catacombs and hushed ceremonies deep in stone caverns. A fantastic direction. "Mandala Wave" is lighter, with a synth twinkle that leads into an unexpected synth tone groove in a Gamelan style. Further echoes of a more ambient Paul Schutze here. Finally, "Samadhi" offers a strikingly resonant ambient driftwork for consumption; one that I would gladly bask in for an hour's length. "Samadhi" is an almost indescribably excellent ambient piece with different textures and sounds that blend seamlessly over its length. There is an Eastern flavor here as well, as we travel through the different Bardos of existence, lulled along through the ether. I can't think of a finer way to close this work. While Echoes has more than enough moments of sublime beauty to satisfy this listener, I can't help but believe that the underlying concept behind the tracks tended to prevent them from achieving the ecstatic heights of Johnson's previous work. Still, there is much to recommend, especially the impressive drift of the album closer (which, in my opinion, would have made a stunning album length work).

A minor music-nerd nitpick: both Linger and Echoes come packaged in DVD cases. While this allows for an aesthetically pleasing experience in regard to cover art, it sacrifices disc portability. I'm not crazy about the relatively small size of CD jewel cases, but this doesn't seem to me to be an adequate substitute.

Finally, we have a nearly thirty-minute confection from Johnson in the form of an EP. Environment 1, Chinatown - New York is the beginning of a series of atmospheric impressions from different physical environments. Fans of Johnson's Entering Twilight will be pleased to hear this is a subtly shifting work of the highest order as randomly scattered source recordings mix with beautiful synth textures. While the piece remains largely static throughout its length, it still manages to progress over a half hour, waxing and waning as the listener is lulled into a zen-like place amidst all the chaos of New York's bustling Chinatown. In my experience, Chinatown has never been as peaceful as this--Johnson has managed to distill a sense of place while never overpowering the listener with cloying field recordings. Listening to Environment 1 is rather like occupying a trance-state while traversing one of the planet's most people-clogged areas. In total, this is a sublime work that is well suited to the EP length. I'm glad to see ambient/atmospheric artists rediscover the EP in their work, as it allows ideas that might not suit album length to flower to fruition nonetheless. This is an intriguing series, well worth attention--I'm interested to see future destinations Johnson will explore sonically.

Once again, Johnson has proven himself an ambient artist rooted in tradition, but willing to experiment to the highest degrees within the niche. In my opinion, Linger is an essential work of modern ambient music--I don't think you'll find a better example of traditional ambient sound transcended into modern context. Echoes, while less successful by far, still has much to offer, though perhaps only to Johnson fanatics rather than the casual ambient listener. The process works are interesting, but never seem to ascend to the heights of past Johnson work. Finally, Environment 1 is a fabulous beginning to an intriguing series; one that I find myself returning to frequently and with great pleasure. Fans of drifting ambience can find no better work from the last year.

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LAMMERGEYER

Birds of Prey

Blue Oasis

DataObscura (2003)

Anthony Paul Kerby is no stranger to these pages under his moniker The Circular Ruins. He reveals a different side of his musical persona with Lammergeyer--a separate project, named after a Eurasian bird of prey, devoted to ambient/electronic soundscapes (as with TCR) but in a more "classical" vein. There have been two Lammergeyer releases so far this year. Both are related sonically and thematically, so I'll cover them together.

We begin with Birds of Prey, a work separated into ten "Thermals," all with subtitles. Each track on Birds of Prey transitions into the next seamlessly, making an album length movement rather than a collection of discrete tracks. The first impression one gets, if one is familiar with The Circular Ruins, is how sedate and smooth the music is compared to previous TCR work. It's clear a new project name was required to separate the more choppy, active, and busy work of TCR with the sonic symphonics of Lammergeyer. "Thermal One - Flight" sets the tone immediately with clattering sounds reminiscent of some steampunk airship gliding uneasily along the skyline. Different synth tones, some played, some held to drone, are triggered amongst the stereo-panned clattering--this is a graceful flight high over icy landscapes. Later in the track, orchestral synths flourish, bringing a baroque tone to the proceedings. This is no voyage into deep space, as with so many ambient recordings, but an earthed journey through nature's dramatic tableau. In "Thermal Three - Void" we can hear echoes of past TCR work, but it's slower, more Schulzean, as if Kerby is focusing more on creating dramatic soundscapes like his esteemed predecessor rather than the strange, propulsive ambience of TCR. This bleeds into "Thermal Four - Memory" a resonant area of swirling electronics, more understated, and less directly in the listener's "eye." The clattering (similar to the sound from a mechanical toy, though not at all annoying) from the first track is a constant presence on the first half of the disc, as if this portion represents the Lammergeyer's flight above terrain, traveling vast distances. All is viewed from the impossibly high vantage point, making familiar presences somehow exotic from such distance. This sonic distance often leads to soundscapes that lack immediacy; the ambience seems more suited for background sonics than active listening on many of the tracks. This is work that seeps into the consciousness. The cuts that do demand the listeners attention right off the bat, like "Thermal Seven - Despair" are beautiful suites of underlying synth drone accompanied by distinctly soundtrack-styled synth. These tracks are dramatic, but never forced, a tightrope walk performed by Kerby admirably. The strongest tracks are often the shortest on Birds of Prey, as with "Thermal Eight - Languid" which features whispery sounds, bubbling and gurgling synths, as well as a deep electronic cello-like solo. It's beautiful, not attempting to mimic "real" instrumentation, but instead transcending it into a new form of classically-inspired ambience. "Thermal Nine - Release" is a lighter zone that tends to meander, often a flaw of the longer tracks on Birds of Prey. Similarly, "Thermal Ten - Gyre," ends the CD with a radiant finish, deserting the cool sonics of earlier tracks with a nearly ambient-techno track of cascading electronics that morphs into darker zones which gradually decrease in intensity until the lighter zones return in stunning fashion. The track ends with fluttering tones, as if unsure when to stop. The transition is not at all jarring, a logical conclusion to a diverse, if not always completely engaging album. Often, Birds of Prey is a technically practiced work that does not fully gel over its sixty minute length.

The second Lammergeyer work, Blue Oasis is more outwardly satisfying, as if the symphonic concepts approached with Birds of Prey have been more fully digested. "Threshold" phases in and out with resonant electronics as if one is pulled alternately higher and lower upon the thermals of air. Some of the synth reminds me of Namlook's drifting works, always a pleasant response, especially considering Kerby's knack of making excellent all-synth tracks with none of the filler Namlook tends to pepper his longer tracks with. "Gravity" retains some of the twinkle of its predecessor, but has fantastic synth that lances across the listener's eye. "Plateau" returns slightly to the meandering territory of Birds of Prey, though its stylistic changes are pleasing, as the track shifts from deep and dark to buzzing and radiant by turns. More interesting is "Opening"--a Zen-like tone-scape, completely out of character for Kerby, that clinks and cascades with vibraphonic essence. This track would be utterly out of place on a Circular Ruins album, but it fits here beautifully: an unexpected highlight. Next, "Distance" returns to soundtrack territory with a pretty drift that mixes with the previous "Opening" and Kerby's synth mellotron (last heard on Conjunction). Track six, "Pinnacle" could have been culled from Birds of Prey, with familiar understated clattering and pointilist synth touches (reminding me oddly of The Doors' "Riders on the Storm"). "Headland" is more experimental, almost resembling an unholy union of jittery Cluster and Pete Namlook & Dr. Atmo's "Garden of Dreams." Two Teutonic styles mix into a strange glittering soundscape that opens into tone-drift around the three minute mark. A highlight. "Horizon" is a continuation on these themes in a deeper vein as synthetic, subterranean, and translucent sounds cluster around the same jittery tones of the preceding track. I like the attention to long "suites" of unified themes over tracks on Blue Oasis. This was also attempted on Birds of Prey, but whereas Birds seemed to exhaust its ideas before many of the track clusters were over, Blue Oasis shifts and plays with themes in intriguing patterns. Finally, track nine is "Harmonic," ending the CD on a nearly ambient-techno note with a nicely phased groove overlaid by synth harmonics I'm normally used to hearing on Kompakt or Elektolux recordings. This is a direction I'd like to see Lammergeyer (or The Circular Ruins) continue in--sonically fresh, but with the classic ambience we need to separate this from the ceaseless monthly tsunami of IDM recordings. This is a most impressive finish to Blue Oasis, symphonic, dramatic, modern, and classical all at once.

I found Blue Oasis to be the real winner of the Lammergeyer duo, though Birds of Prey is interesting enough on its own merits. It seems to me that the former might have been more effective as an EP, where its themes could be distilled to more potent configurations. Blue Oasis on the other hand, is fascinating from start to finish, with stylistic transitions many ambient artists just cannot pull off. Kerby seems comfortable composing in a wider variety of sonic ambient styles, and it is to his credit that he can cull them all together on such a pleasing album length work. The Lammergeyer works do not seem to rise above side-project status (yet): Circular Ruins releases still feature Kerby's most vibrant and consistently interesting work. However, Lammergeyer features Kerby's work in a tone very unlike TCR, which makes it well worth the attention of aficionados of that project, as well as newer ambient artists like Vir Unis who operate in the grey area between ambient music and more active electronic styles.

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JOHN BROADDUS

Four at Eighteen

Parnassus Nump (2003)

It becomes harder and harder to review drone based ambient records the more one explores the fringes of ambient music. It's not that the music begins to blend into a gargantuan muddle of tones and drones, or that the music itself is in some way lacking in "reviewable" content. It's just that, after a while, a writer begins to run out of metaphors and sonic impressions to use when dealing with drone material. The masters of the static drone are plentiful: Klaus Wiese (not to mention his acolyte Mathias Grassow), Oöphoi, and, to a lesser extent, Thomas Köner, all come to mind as recent purveyors of that most indescribable of ambient beasts. Drone musicians are prolific sonic mysteries waiting to be unraveled by the curious listener and the frustrated writer.

This brings me to the new release by John Broaddus, who past recorded under the Laocoön moniker, titled Four at Eighteen--a droning release that delivers exactly what it promises: four tracks clocking in at just over eighteen minutes each. Broaddus does not indulge the lazy writer within me, choosing instead to omit track titles altogether, denying me any convenient literate springboards with which to write from. This sonic and descriptive ambiguity may make for a shorter Ambient Review, but it's no subtle comment on Broaddus's ambient work, which is, in essence, high-quality, extremely entrancing music for late night sojourns and early morning blossomings.

Upon listening to Four at Eighteen, I was immediately pulled into the enveloping fabric of the compositions, which are generally simple and somewhat monochromatic. Track one is a gusty (and analog sounding) study of contrasting soundwashes--deep and vast, but never dark or uninviting. The closest recent comparison I can make is to Jason Sloan's recent tour de force Still, but the material here is more static, and less progressive over track length. This is music to immerse oneself in, rather than drift along with. Track two slows the drone down even further, with a synthetic tone sustained to infinity. This is the kind of drone that gradually invades your consciousness, blocking all thought (but in a good way!) until it seems that all is the drone and you are no longer inhabiting your own body. This track morphs ever so gradually into a tender and psychedelic phasing as the tones ripple like droplets on a still lake. Track three manages to sound exactly like Tibetan singing bowls (in fact, this could be a dead ringer for any of Klaus Wiese's numerous bowl works). These hushed tones carry a bassy weight as well; the low end on this track is immense and dramatic. The familiar gonging of Tibetan bowls is present here too, pleasantly breaking up the harmonic litany of overlying ambience. This track manages to capture a zen-like state of no emotion, simply allowing the listener to bask in its glowing harmonics. Finally, track four, continues the Tibetan bowl "suite" (I'm quite curious to know whether these tones are actually created on bowls, or are merely synthesised constructs). Four is more traditionally ambient, with windy tones gliding together gracefully as if the intention is to personify a slowly rotating galaxy. This track makes a beautiful, drifting finish to a quite distinctive (though somehow lacking in definable qualities!) ambient album.<p>

Four at Eighteen is an understated and lovely album, most effective, in my opinion, as background ambience. While the tracks never quite take one's breath away, I get the impression that the intent is more to amplify the environment one is listening in, rather than supersede it. This comes with the grand tradition of classic ambience, and succeeds marvelously in this respect. I especially enjoyed the work while I slept--it's perfect for nights where your slumber drifts along with the relaxing, though never trite or sugary, tonal wash on endless repeat. Four at Eighteen makes a perfect compliment to Grassow's Bliss, Oöphoi's Behind the Wall of Sleep, and Steve Roach's Darkest Before Dawn. Fans of more progressively styled ambient drift, however, would do well to steer clear of the placid (though never stagnant) sounds herein. Four at Eighteen is the sound of glacial movement, ever so slow; things moving at the speed of seasons. An auspicious debut by a new artist well worth watching!

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STEVE ROACH

Life Sequence

Timeroom Editions (2003)

We last heard from Steve Roach with his mammoth four CD box Mystic Chords & Sacred Spaces, a memorable collection of ambient soundscaping. I reviewed the first disc of this massive work, and I plan to continue to review the entire set in coming months. In the meantime, to whet the appetite, we have the latest installment in Roach's Timeroom Editions series, Life Sequence. This is an interesting release, first because it is something of a departure from recent Roach material (usually deep and long droneworks or intense tribal-ritual albums), and second because it marks a return to the style of music Roach debuted with in the early eighties: sequencing. As I've stated before, I'm no great fan of modern Berlin School music, and, understandably, approached Life Sequence with skepticism. After all, Roach's last album of sequencing was Stormwarning from 1989. A lot has happened in electronic music since then, and I wondered if Roach would approach sequencing much in the same regard as if the nineties and its corresponding techno "renaissance" had never happened. The answer with Life Sequence is yes and no.

The disc begins with "Lightness of Being," an extremely apt title for this, the shortest track on the album. Light and bubbly e-perc bounces around the speakers, sounding similar to recent collaborations with Vir Unis, though with a playfulness largely absent in those releases. This is rather frenetic work, impossibly reminding me of Kraftwerk in its simultaneously classic and futuristic sound. It's a brief and unusual beginning for this album, but also the only track on Life Sequence in this vein. "Living the Dream" changes the mood considerably (partly because it dates back to 1991), as we shift from rapid bubbling to the downtempo sequencing Roach was known for in the late-eighties. Fans of Dreamtime Return's insistent, though not punishingly fast, sequenced work will find "Living the Dream" absolutely appealing. The track slowly builds, and while not reaching the intense heights of "Towards the Dream," it certainly maintains the breathtaking flavor of one who has reached the mountain's summit and proudly views the land below, shockingly small. Perhaps much of Roach's work is unfairly compared to his seminal Dreamtime Return, but this track stands on its own as a worthy successor.

"Sundial," a track in collaboration with former Dweller at the Threshold member Paul Ellis, is absolutely the highlight of Life Sequence. Here is where past sequencing styles explored by Roach are cast off for a more modern and progressive sound. The sequencing is suitably propulsive, but also allows the other elements to phase in and out over the underlying mandala of synth tones. These synths are rich and warm, artificial yet human. This is the most "ambient" track so far on Life Sequence, with a break in the tempo to allow a soft atmospheric interlude where one can palpably feel the melding of classic sequencing with the driftwork on Atmospheric Conditions. The spacecraft continues along the surface of the planet, skimming speedily, but slowing down to gaze at the milieu of exotic alien life mired below. After all, space travel is without value lacking the context of eventual planetfall. This track alone is worth the price of the album. The second track with Paul Ellis, "Sands of Time," is similarly evocative. Phased, warm tones streak across a dark sky, not unlike the digital imagery of the album cover. These sounds represent the most appealing aspects of Roach's work; while outwardly not complex, they are arranged to evoke maximum emotional response in the listener. It's hard not to be swept away when the downtempo sequence begins. Sequencers are the tools used here with Ellis, not the defining attributes of the music. I find this aspect to be appealing: while creating works that are clearly inspired by the Berlin School, they are not constrained by an overbearing style. "Sands of Time" gurgles along as its synth sequencing melds with unusual zither tones, ambient-techno flourishes, and a curious kind of counterpoint. Also of note is the fantastic "laser beam" sound that enters at the ten minute mark. In total, this piece stands as the transcendence of many different kinds of electronic sound with a fresh feel that belies its individual elements. Finally, the monstrous "Destination Horizon" (from 1988 and clocking in at just over twenty-seven minutes) ends Life Sequence with a return to past Roach sequencing styles. I find this particular track to be more interesting than the earlier "Living the Dream"--while both tracks are composed of similar elements, this has a "classic Roach" flavor that reminds me of the music listeners fell in love with in the first place. It is sequenced, sweeping, and ambient all at once--a reminder of why Roach is so highly regarded by ambient and new age circles. Roach has a talent of expressing the ineffable in his music and "Destination Horizon" propels the listener forward into an unknowable future, both mysterious and welcoming.

Life Sequence surprised me from the start. While lacking the album flow of many of Roach's works (understandable given the varying dates of composition), each track manages to stand on its own merits, making the total a fine collection of pieces that probably wouldn't fit anywhere else. Listeners who find Roach's classic sequencing style a past relic may be turned away by certain tracks' similarities to older works (and ambient fans who eschew Berlin School altogether will likely avoid this entirely). I, myself, who enjoy Roach's work past and present, found this to be a fine addition to Roach's daunting discography. The work with Paul Ellis is especially excellent; there is clearly a synergy between the two musicians here where both artists' styles meld into a truly memorable result. These two tracks alone are worth the price of admission. Those who feel electronica has moved past Berlin School-inspired music will likely feel Roach is treading well-worn ground. Nothing on Life Sequence is likely to change their minds. Those who appreciate a classic style done with modern aplomb (not to mention the presence of unreleased tracks from Roach's seminal period) will find Life Sequence absolutely essential.

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NEBULA

The Path of White Clouds

Stella Maris (2003)

Nebula's first album, Genesis was one of my favorite releases of 2002--an extremely evocative musical travelogue through the creation of the universe from a spiritual perspective. Now, Nebula return with The Path of White Clouds and a larger line-up that reads like a European Ambient Super-group: featuring Oöphoi, Klaus Wiese, Tau Ceti (whose recent collaboration with Oöphoi, Subterrania, is well worth hunting down), Mathias Grassow, Mauro Malgrande, Lorenzo Pierobon, and others. The sound is exactly what one might expect from these artists, though this release abandons the deep space textures and tones in favor of spaces located within the psyche.

The Path of White Clouds begins with "The Quest" which sounds very similar to the material found on Genesis--deep, resonant drones which have the feeling of ascending higher and higher as one listens (rather like some of Michael Stearns work on the Serge synth). This is the briefest track on the CD (at four minutes), and it's clear we are coming from the depth of the nascent universe to a more personal, inner universe. The Buddhist ritual has begun, perhaps, and the higher pitched sounds of singing bowls are ushering us into a quiet trance. The quest is fulfilled quite quickly, indeed, because "Ascension" is achieved almost immediately. Fans of Oöphoi's The Spirals of Time will find much familiar here as lulling synth drones are accompanied by strange whispering winds and ghostly ambiences. Subtle harmonic chant (easily mistaken for synth) is then layered atop the breathy winds, and an extremely evocative trip is begun. The chanting is excellent, progressive and yet still extremely ambient--it's a fine compliment to Oöphoi's psychedelic tonal wash, which sounds like a dramatically dark David Parsons. Next is "Devotion" which opens with sustained gonging (that reaches infinity, it seems). This lunarscape is populated with more ghostly vocals, male and female, giving this a strangely cosmic flavor. One might just as easily be drifting over the quietly trilling moon, as on the Sargasso Sea, mesmerized by sirens. This is a willfully ethereal track, and a highlight. "The Living Mandala" (the title of which sounds like a strange B horror movie) travels to more synthetic territory, with gliding synths and processed shakuhachi that sounds similar to the vocalization on "Ascension." Tracks like this populate the best of Oöphoi and Grassow releases, and this sounds like a perfect combination of the best of both oeuvres. Tinkling bells add to the ambience, making a textbook example of the strengths and simplicities of these artists' works.

The epic "Enlightenment" is next, and, at over sixteen minutes, represents the centerpiece of The Path of White Clouds. Continuing the ghostly atmospheres of earlier tracks, the muted sounds of the shakuhachi, as well as some similar sounding synths, meld with airy sounds and unrecognizable noises. This is a quiet, meditative track comprised of what seems to be a rarified air. It's also a perfect track to sleep to, as the sounds never leave the periphery of consciousness--it's like listening to a quiet dream. Eventually, synths rise louder, but they are of an appropriately stratospheric quality as enlightenment sneaks up on us unexpectedly. Finally, "The Path of White Clouds" acts as a capstone to the album, with Klaus Wiese's zither (much like his work on El-Hadra) combined with Pierobon's harmonic vocals. Yet more ghostly ambience, and we reach the end of a singularly mysterious, airy, and intriguing album.

Unlike the first Nebula album, The Path of White Clouds seems more a cobbling of previously recorded elements than a true collaboration between the artists. As with the previously reviewed Expanding Horizon, this seems an album built up from existing past work. There is much on The Path of White Clouds that is very familiar (even expected) from Oöphoi and his cohorts. Nonetheless, this is strong material, even if not nearly as memorable as Genesis. Fans of the artists involved will not want to miss this one, though casual ambienteers might find other works by those involved more worthy of attention. The Path of White Clouds will not disappoint drone junkies, like myself. However, its limited status of 300 copies is justified, making it a treasure for those who worship the drone, and few others.

Released as a limited CD-R by Stella Maris (no website info available).

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MAITREYA

Telluric Waves

Council of Nine (2003)

I'd not heard UK artist (and Council of Nine label "co-head") Simon Lomax's debut recording as Maitreya: From the Mothership. The press materials regarding Maitreya's new release, Telluric Waves state this is the "beautiful, new sound of Maitreya." I'm no expert in "new" sound, but I can unreservedly write that Telluric Waves certainly is beautiful.

We begin with "Night Vision," which opens with heartbeat deep bass pulses and synth lines that cascade in washes of warm sound. There is a distance to the sound here, as if we are watching the warmth of a far off star as it continuously radiates. Eventually a plaintive piano, often tampered with electronically, recalls Harold Budd's piano decaying in deep space. Momentarily, the track ceases into quiet but fades back to the previous elements in a surprising and breathtaking use of silence. "Subterranian" is a quieter affair, with an increased focus on synthetic drones and slowly phasing textures. The mood here is icy, rather like the sonic equivalent of aurora borealis. Midway through, the track recedes to silence (as with track one), and returns just like the tides--certainly intentional, given the album title. "Sinter" begins with rustling, as if of earthy feathers, which melds with psychedelic synth vibrations recalling Biosphere's seminal Substrata material. If these are waves of earth, surely this is the sonic movement of glaciers or tectonic plates beneath the surface of the planet. "Sinter" transitions directly into "Altocumulus" which begins with radio transmissions and disembodied voices. Gorgeous synth washes permeate these transmissions creating a disorienting effect, (though it is particularly pleasant disorientation). Perhaps our Telluric Waves are of the Earth, but it is an Earth viewed from the atmosphere by alien eyes, attempting to interpret signals that are unintelligible to off-worlders.

"Half-light" contains Scanner-like transmissions mixed with more icy synth textures. The cloud masses cover the sky; as depth perception is lost while we view the obscured heavens. The track deepens into Thomas Köner deep-bass rumble. "Lumen" is altogether brighter, featuring the deep washes as before but this time with synth chimes reverberating. This is pure bliss out, as we watch the sky pass overhead (perhaps from our isolated home's front porch?) and lose all sense of time as the sun slowly glides over the ecliptic. A highlight. "We Are Linked" is pure ambient drift with textured drones, manipulated vocalizations, and unrecognizable sonic detritus. The influence of Biosphere is particularly evident here, though Maitreya does ambient chill-out with the best of them. This track remains progressive over its length, rather than keeping with one static element as is often the tendency of many ambient practitioners. Finally, my favorite track, "Telluric Waves" contains the best new ambient has to offer. Gorgeous, at once chilly and warm, synth textures lull you into reverie like sun in eyes on freezing cold days. Here are the waves of Earth as we lie and witness, in our slow and ephemeral ways, the motions of our planet. Extremely beautiful synth hushes the track to silence. The waves return (as waves always do), sometimes punctuated by unusual synth textures. This is the sound of life blooming and fading over and over into forever. Indeed, I could easily listen to this particular track for an album's length.

Maitreya's Telluric Waves is a memorable experience that would assuredly appeal to both ambient purists and fans of newer electronic styles equally. The sonics sound surprisingly natural though they appear to be wholly synthetic. Biosphere fans should especially take note of this release, as it features all of the strengths of albums like Substrata without the album filler that clutters many newer ambient releases. In fact, each track is progressive from beginning to end, signaling an artist unwilling to dwell on long spaces of ambience just to fill a CD's length. It took three years for the second Maitreya album to appear and it shows. Telluric Waves is a finely detailed and impressively executed work of modern chilled textures; trippy, entrancing, and consistently interesting.

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ZERO OHMS

True Degrees of Freedom

Space for Music (2003)

Richard Roberts, recording as Zero Ohms, has been quietly making ambient releases of extraordinarily high quality for a number of years. I had the opportunity to review his previous release in collaboration with Brannan Lane, Immense Distance, and was duly impressed by the range and power of the disc. Roberts's newest solo work, True Degrees of Freedom, maintains the high quality of his previous material--not to mention upping the ante by creating a work suffused with ambient music's best qualities while still retaining his highly individual style.

True Degrees of Freedom is something of a concept album, as Roberts explores the concept of travel through the seven tracks on the album. "The Road" begins our trip, as the ambience of the modern freeway melds with synth sounds that pan through speakers in an artificial Doppler effect. Sirens, car horns, doors slamming closed all conjoin with electronics to give a vision of the interstate of the future--all sleek lines and high speeds, but with the human element that remains constant throughout time's passage. Next is "The Spaceport"--highways inevitably lead to the spaceport here, which is a haunting zone comprised of wind synth passages, a constant ticking that represents the all-important passage of time in scheduled places such as this, and a vague soup-like collage of ambient voices and noises. The first two tracks on the record sound experimental and cloying on paper, but in reality, Roberts is artful enough to keep these aspects and still maintain ambient sound one can relax to. "The Spaceport" has a tension to it that makes the listener feel excited to begin a journey with this sonic location as the starting point. "The Gate" (perhaps to a wormhole in space?) is one of the most fascinating pieces on the CD, and is a logical step from Roberts's previous work, Unafraid of the Impending Silence. Here, beautifully played wind synth--an instrument that is hard to describe, but has a sound that is unearthly yet familiar--mixes with ambient crowd chatter. This is truly stunning material, a full representation of the whole being far more than the sum of its parts. This is like being present in a zen zone of no-thought whilst surrounded by churning masses of people. Everyone's loading onto the spacecraft, waiting to be propelled into the black beyond.

"The Inner Mission" quiets to near stillness as atmospheric drift and understated NASA samples give the impression we have finally reached the spaceways. This track is far too short, at almost six minutes--this is pure space music that would easily fill an album length reverie. Track five, "The Flight" is even better as reversed flute loops cascade over one another (with incidental chitterings and odd sounds low in the mix). Roberts writes that this track is "intentionally psychedelic"--I'm in no position to argue, as this sounds like getting inside "Tomorrow Never Knows" and staying in the pretty land between notes. This track is truly a tour-de-force, and a definite highlight of the album. "The Afterglow" darkens the mood considerably, especially after the transcendental heights of the previous track. This is deep space, with slowly churning drones that remind me of Stars of the Lid mated with "Borders" by Bad Data. Space flight in the Zero Ohms universe is no chemically-induced slumber, but a wide awake, conscious trip into the unknown. Finally, "The Overlook" represents our return to gravity and ground beneath. Sonorous flute punctuates wind sounds as we stand atop a promontory. Perhaps the scene below is that of the sea, but it could easily be a spacescape of infinite distance. This track has a holiness to it that approaches the early works of Popol Vuh and Paul Horn in its ancient, inexplicable spiritual power. A quiet and dignified end to a watershed work by Zero Ohms.

There is no doubt in my mind that True Degrees of Freedom is Zero Ohms's best and most fully realized album. This is work that stands shoulder to shoulder with the best in modern ambient and could very well be the work that brings Roberts to the attention of ambient connoisseurs everywhere. You will not find a better concoction of inner and outer space music this year, and I unhesitatingly place this work in my top five ambient releases of 2003. Fans of Robert Rich or Fax-label works such as Shades of Orion 2 will find this especially satisfying, as it is experimental (without a capital 'E') without sacrificing listenability. First class work by an up and coming master.

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Painting With Sound: The Life and Music of Hans-Joachim Roedelius

Stephen Iliffe

Meridian Music Guides (2003)

My first exposure to the eclectic music of Hans-Joachim Roedelius was back in early 1997--my girlfriend (now my wife) and I lay back in my room at my father's house listening to "Sehr Kosmich" on the debut Harmonia album Musik von Harmonia. I didn't know it at the time, but these drifting, primordial sounds would eventually lead to many years of delighted exploration into the (at the time trendy) 1970s German electronic music scene. I've since collected a large number of CD reissues of this apocryphal material, much of which influenced today's ambient and electronic musicians. One artist stands above all the others for me, coincidentally part of the group who introduced me to this wonderfully obscure genre in the first place: Hans-Joachim Roedelius. It is thus with great pleasure that I am given the chance to review Painting with Sound: The Life and Music of Hans-Joachim Roedelius, an exhaustive guide to a singularly inspiring and fascinating figure in modern music.

It was no easy task for a book of this nature to be produced. The author, Stephen Iliffe, created his own publishing imprint called Meridian Music Guides just to put the book out. But this is no hastily photocopied screed; Iliffe has done everything right with the production of Painting with Sound, which is embellished with rare photos on every page, and benefits from beautifully designed layout and professional editing. Most importantly, it is thoughtful and well written.

Iliffe writes in a clear and intelligent style, beginning with Roedelius's beginnings as a child actor, through the tumultuous period of World War II and the Cold War where the musician found himself conscripted into the Volkspolizei. Roedelius was quick to desert, but was incarcerated, and forced to work in a coal mine by the corrupt regime. His early years make the average teen angst experiences most people know pale by comparison--Roedelius has seen his share of the unfortunate aftermath of war, and this very experience proved to influence the directions he would take in his own future musical endeavors. It wasn't long before Roedelius gravitated to the burgeoning avant-garde activities of his countrymen, and soon fraternized with such figures as Conrad Schnitzler (not to mention brushes with members of the Red Army Faction). This portion of Roedelius's life is particularly fascinating as we are given a glimpse into an infrequently reported time of flowering avant-garde creation at the Zodiak Free Arts Lab. It isn't long before Schnitzler and Roedelius hook up with then steak chef Dieter Moebius, and the rest is Kosmiche history.

Here the biography turns away from the historical experiences of Roedelius, and begins to focus on his disparate musical productions, first as a member of the iconoclastic (though prescient to future-musics) Kluster, then (after the equally iconoclastic Schnitzler chose to pursue his own muses) the more commonly known Cluster. Iliffe describes each ensuing album in minute detail as it is created during the book's timeline, offering possible influences and reverberations tinged with anecdotes culled from other musicians and Roedelius himself. Eventually, the focus strays from the politically-steeped ruminations of Kluster/Cluster's earlier albums, and more into the creative processes and inspirations of both artists as they find their own ways through their music. Each man was inspired by his environs, and for a period both worked in something of an artistic Eden when the duo deserted the large cities of Germany in favor of the idyllic, commune-like village of Forst. Here, both men created their most memorable work as Cluster, not to mention excellent collaborations with Michael Rother and Brian Eno (who also contributes a thoughtful forward). I was swept away by the pure existence both Roedelius and Moebius seemed to have known--living simply, though close to poverty, and creating art in a pastoral world free from the tumultuous mid-twentieth century milieu. This fertile period inevitably lead to Roedelius's solo career, and the gradual dissolution of Cluster.

It seems that Roedelius, by dissolving Cluster, experienced something of a renaissance as he shed the chains of Kosmiche in favor of his own musical directions. Each resulting solo recording (and there are a staggering number, as evidenced by the record guide at the end of the book) represents a further sharpening of Roedelius's focus and attention to unbridled creation, regardless of current artistic trends. Iliffe brings us through Roedelius's career from the late-seventies to the present, focusing less on Roedelius the man, and more upon the works he continually created. It may be posited that at this point in Roedelius's career it is easier to learn about the man through his music than by any anecdotal contribution from Roedelius himself. Still, this narrowing of content made me wonder about certain aspects of Roedelius's life that seemed glossed over; his eventual distance from Moebius, for example.

To some degree, it seems Iliffe is overwhelmed by Roedelius's output--in his zealous attempt to write about each release, he gradually subtracts Roedelius from the equation altogether, merely describing the music. Regardless, Iliffe's writing about the music is very well done (in fact, a highlight of the book), as he dances through each album with his own experiences with, and takes on, the various releases. He's also no wide-eyed Roedelius fanatic--he is equally likely to display everything he doesn't like about a release as he is to give rave reviews. The record guide in the back of the book is a godsend for Roedelius collectors, as an exhaustive commentary on the various CD releases (though the Harmonia '76 Tracks and Traces disc--a favorite of mine--is strangely absent). If anything, Iliffe seems a bit too uncharitable (at least regarding some of my favorites) in his reviews, but the wise reader will gauge Iliffe's opinions with his or her own and make their own judgments. Iliffe has a tendency to lapse into what I humorously refer to as "Wire-isms," where his criticisms are less grounded in utilitarian reality and more focused on artistic showboating, as in his introduction where his metaphors unnecessarily obscure his intellectual points. Certainly, judging by the success of magazines like The Wire, and the newer E/I, there is an audience for this sort of thing--but I am not it. At any rate, these lapses are infrequent beyond the introduction, making the rest of the book a fine music "documentary," written clearly with the reader in mind.

Here is the power of Painting with Sound--above all it does exactly what a good music book should do: it makes the reader want to go out and buy some Roedelius CDs. I can recommend Iliffe's lovingly produced book without hesitation, not only to the most die-hard Krautrock fans, but also to those interested in reading about a seldom documented period in modern music. Roedelius is an icon of artistic achievement, continually moving forward, constantly pushing his own boundaries, and is, above this, an inspiration to all who read about his fascinating life and work. I applaud Iliffe's efforts in bringing this book to fruition. He has avoided sycophantic pitfalls in bringing the first truly critical Roedelius biography to the public bookshelf. This level of scholarly and passionate writing only serves to increase the reader's opinion of Iliffe: he's a good writer with good taste in music--always a positive combination for this reviewer. Painting with Sound gets my highest recommendation; it's a labor of love that manages to instill the reader with a similar love of the subject matter. Fantastic!

Published by Meridian Music Guides

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