MARK G.E. AND JIM SKEEL

Abstract Air

Internal Combustion (2003)

Review by Bill Binkelman

Something tells me this recording slipped underneath everyone's radar screen as one of the top drifting ambient/spacemusic releases of 2003. From the duo also known as cyberCHUMP (Mark G.E. and Jim Skeel), who usually are ablaze with kinetic energy and fusion elements galore, Abstract Air presents seven selections of smooth ebbing and flowing ambience, sometimes neutral in mood, seldom what I would call dark, and usually exhibiting a warmth that is uncommon in this type of music, as well as some characteristic quirks (which are the hallmark of their alter ego cyberCHUMP).

Take "The Infinite Now" for example. Buried deep within the haunting drones and reverberating tones are a laid back thumping bass and what sounds like mystical wooden flutes. The washes, textures and drones alone make this an excellent drifting soundscape. The addition of the other two elements elevates it into something magical. I imagined myself walking through a fog-shrouded forest, bathed in diffuse light and not the least bit afraid but keenly aware of my insignificance in the cathedral of trees.

Abstract Air has plenty to offer in the way of slowly developing ambient and spacemusic. Rhythms are, for the most part, noticeably absent except those that derive from things like the pinging tones in "Requiem for the Kursk" (by the way, that track, "The Infinite Now" and "Amniotic World" are all parts of what is labeled "The Kursk Suite"). "Requiem..." combines the aforementioned tones with long drawn out processed electric guitar and a gently throbbing drone underneath everything else. One of the best cuts is the closing title track, which also appeared on the excellent Spiralight Recordings compilation Ambienism Volume 1. Sounding more than a little like Harold Budd, a warm and friendly series of notes played on what sounds like a Fender Rhodes electric piano repeats over and over against a gently floating wash along with sustained bass notes. The track is about ten minutes long and, later on, other musical elements are brought into play, but mostly just doing yeoman's duty as decorative touches (such as some beautiful flute work towards the end). In contrast to the enveloping warmth of the title song, the CD opens with "The Darkest Hour/Dawning" which, while darker than other pieces here, is still not intimidating or scary, being more along the lines of the deep space music from Michael Bentley (i.e. whooshing textures, humming drones, and ebbing and flowing synth chords, as well as some rustling effects now and then). At fourteen-plus minutes, placing this selection first is a bold move, but I would expect nothing less from Mark G.E. and Jim Skeel. This song does contain some percussion, by the way, but its muted and you'd need headphones to pick it out, I think. Later in the track's development, electric guitar and synth chorales take over as the main ingredients for awhile. Things get a bit intense and loud eventually, but the overall feeling is still not overbearing. In fact, the amalgam of drones and chorales reminded me a bit of Ligeti's music from 2001 at times. It had that same sense of grandeur without going over the top (no doubt, these moments in the song are meant to convey the "dawning" of the title).

Other songs include the desolate but not forbidding "Overlook" (love the twinkling tones later in the cut), "Amniotic World" (which has a fluid, if not viscous, sound and a beathing-like rhythm to its repeating tones and washes) and "Calling" (far and away the most abstract piece here, consisting of assorted wordless vocals, skittering noises that pan left to right and kalimba samples that repeat in the background). With its darker-tinted character, the piece reminded of Jeff Greinke's In Another Place to some degree, although Greinke's music evolved more than this does. "Calling" is probably the only cut I would consider weak on the album, and even then it suffers more simply by comparison to the other selections here.

For whatever reason, the huddled masses of drifting ambient and spacemusic lovers seem to have missed this recording when it came out. I'd urge them to seek it out now. It's a first-class collection of excursions into slowly shifting and repetitive musical worlds that retains a human sense of warmth and friendliness without crossing over into being "pretty." Exercising an uncanny sense of restraint, G.E. and Skeel display their talent for painting in subtle soft colors that evoke a sense of well-being even when the predominant nature of the music itself is emotionally neutral, if not even a bit dark. Highly recommended.