Wind
and
Wire
- Aucourant Records
- P.O. Box 2231
- Roswell, GA. 30077 USA
- FAX: 770-640-9714
Sidereal is a new
semi-long form ambient recording from Robert Scott Thompson.
I write "semi" long form, because while there is a definite
flow and cohesion to the album (and there is only one time
cue) the music does morph between distinct and separate
moods and feelings. However, there is also an underlying
drone (per the liner notes) and I'll admit that there is
also a subtle atmosphere at work throughout the recording as
well. Sidereal is
Thompson's musical impression of the "background noise of
the universe," that miasma of cosmic static that permeates
all of space. Which is not to say that Sidereal
"mimics" or recreates those sounds of the cosmos. Instead,
what ambient music pioneer Thompson has done is create a
work that is truly sublime and exists in a constant yet
subdued state of flux. However, even more of a testament is
that Sidereal has moments so wonderful that you may want to
"freeze frame" the CD and just bathe in the musical bliss
you hear at any one moment. Using an assortment of
synths, samplers, guitars, and his patented Thompson
electronic and computer wizardry, the album opens with a
passage that is forlorn and somewhat dark, yet flowing with
a melancholic romanticism. Reverbed piano notes are
juxtaposed with strange cosmic wiggling noises, angelic
vocal samples (is that Latin she is singing?), and an
assortment of electronic music textures and drones weaving
an eerie - yet never scary - musical web. The reverbed piano
is particularly evocative, its minimalism bearing some
resemblance to Ernesto Diaz-Infante, James Johnson, and
Brian Eno. The pervasive background
textures (which are barely there sometimes) lend an air of
cosmic spaciness to Sidereal. On headphones, this
continuous stream of electronic shading is better
appreciated than on speakers, although on loudspeakers, the
music takes on a more traditional "ambient" feel and gives
the CD a certain palpable spaciousness and openness as the
music "hits" the listening environment. As mentioned above, the CD
passes through several separate musical "boundaries" such as
the transition into an arrhythmic series of bell/gong tones,
strange wire sounds, and deep bass reverberations, along
with even more minimal piano music (this time not reverbed
but the single notes are sustained). From there, the album
melds into shadow and mystery and even darkness with the
emergence of more traditional dark ambient trappings (meant
in the best possible sense). Floating minor synth chords,
strange alien drones, and a scraping bell-like sound send
chills up my spine. But even amidst this spooky soundscape,
the inherent beauty of the music still comes through loud
and clear. Sidereal is not Stalker or
Heresy - not be a longshot. However, it's also not
And the Stars Go With You. In fact, Sidereal
is wholly original (which is no shock, since it comes from
an artist whose middle name should be "unique" instead of
"Scott"). I haven't scratched the
surface of describing Sidereal yet. Like Robert's
last album (the ultra-ambitious and awesome Acousma),
reviewing an album like this is not about relating a
blow-by-blow account. It's more a study in capturing the
mood and sensations of the album. I don't know that I could
even do that very well (without writing another 1,000 words)
but Sidereal is an amazing album because it somehow
manages to be intellectually (and artistically) challenging
and stimulating yet is also completely accessible for almost
any ambient or spacemusic fan. One section of
Sidereal is blissful with floating synth chords matched
against high-pitched synths lending an air of celestial
magic. This is followed by an alien soundscape of whirling
effects, disturbing 2001-ish drones, and a sense of
immense expanses of blackness. Yet later, arrhythmic clangs
and percussive effects play out against piano that recalls
parts of Ennio Morricone's score to Carpenter's The
Thing - a tangible sense of dread and loneliness settles
over the music. Then, the music quiets way down with a
simple background machine-like drone (almost like the
background noise on the spaceship Discovery from
2001). This section morphs into Eno-esque ambient
heaven - full of minimal piano, gentle synth shadings, and a
sense of gossamer-thin beauty, held together by
plucked-strings and graceful snippets of melody. If you like spacemusic or
floating ambient music, I'd find it hard to believe that you
won't enjoy exploring the various sonic terrains that Robert
Scott Thompson maps on Sidereal. I played this CD
five or six times and enjoyed it more each time, as layer
upon layer of the album revealed itself to me. It's also the
rare ambient recording that rewards both direct and indirect
listening. Somewhere between light and dark, Sidereal
sets its course for the area of deep space which can be both
inviting and scary - as it reminds us of how infinite the
universe is and yet also how, with spiritual synchronicity,
we fit squarely into it all. Sidereal (if there is
any justice) should finally garner the praise and
recognition that has eluded Robert Scott Thompson for far
too long. It's that good an album and comes highly
recommended. review by
Bill Binkelman
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(from the album's liner
notes: "acousma [Gr. akonsma, from akonein, to
hear]: Ger. Akusma; Fr. illusion ou
hallucination auditive; Itl. acusma. - a form of
auditory hallucination. acousma - Sensation of
hearing imaginary sounds. Also called acouasm Reviewing a CD like Robert
Scott Thompson's brilliant Acousma is a maddeningly
ridiculous venture. It's difficult enough to review
straightforward ambient music, with it's subtle twists and
turns as it morphs endlessly in tiny steps or wild
deviations. But this recording - yikes! First of all, it's a
two-disc set; second of all, each disc holds over 75 minutes
of music; third, the music contained therein is some of the
most adventurous I've heard since Ken Moore's Conviction
from my Extraction. Acousma is extremely
heavy-duty and is only ambient in the most broad sense of
the word. To my mind, playing this in the background is
pointless. You will never appreciate it to any degree
whatsoever, simply because it is too dense and complex to
absorb indirectly. Which is not to say that
direct listening will appeal to many people either. Abstract
and experimental, sometimes in the extreme, the music on
Acousma is comprised of acoustic sound sources, both musical
(e.g. violin, guitar, voice, flute, piano, et al.) and
non-musical (field recordings, spoken word, other acoustic
sources), that are literally transformed through computer
devices and techniques that, while well-explained in the
liner notes, are so far beyond my level to understand that I
won't even try to do so. And, I'll admit, the first several
times I attempted to listen to Acousma, I was
completely lost somewhere between bewilderment and extreme
dislike. In the beginning, it just all seemed so confusing -
a jangle of noise, musical snippets, and distorted
sounds. However, out of this chaos,
beauty did emerge for me. Not traditional beauty, but a
sense of loveliness amidst the purity of the invention which
is part and parcel of what Acousma is all about. As
Robert Scott Thompson himself states in the liner notes,
"Sounds become enchanted, imbued with enriched nuance,
essentially changed and transformed through the agency of
computer synthesis and processing." "Enchantment" is a good
choice of words. There is a special breed of magic at work
at the selections on these two discs. It's almost hypnotic.
If one was to craft a perfect listening environment (no
outside noise or disruption, comfortable position,
headphones, low light or no light), I would imagine that
this recording would provide quite the fuel for an active
imagination. On the other hand, something about the music is
also amazingly non-visual and incredibly aesthetic from a
purely intellectual standpoint. This is not to say that an
emotional response won't be evoked by various sections of
either disc. However, the overall feeling of the record is
more exploratory and less celebratory, frightening or
somber. I also would caution you that on first listen, (as
was my case), you might hear this as a soulless exercise in
"gee whiz" studio chicanery. I'd only urge you to stick with
this CD and do your best to get past that stage of
comprehension. While I have painted a
picture of Acousma that may make it sound harsh or
completely non-melodic, it's not all like that (if even like
at all). Since the sound sources are, mostly, musical
instruments, an astute listener will catch moments of melody
and phrasing, as one catches a firefly as it flits about in
the dark night air. Some stretches of the CD are
cacophonous, bringing to mind conflict and the clashing of
powerful forces, while at other times the music is
diaphanous, floating and wafting as delicate as a wisp of
smoke. Crescendoes that erupt from seemingly out of nowhere
are melded into eerily beautiful stretches and then reverse
themselves back into an explosion of discordant sound.
Processed vocals can sound ghostly one minute and celestial
the next. Violins, flute, and koto flirt with normalcy and
are swallowed up in a miasma of soundscapes that would be
grating if they weren't so intricately crafted and
meticulously engineered to take the listener just to the
brink of some sonic cliff, gazing over the edge and yet
never losing balance as one teeters at the abyss. I won't even attempt to
single out a track on either disc as a favorite, since that
is missing the point of "the whole" of this album. I suppose
that, over time and repeated listenings, I may come to like
one track more than another (the songs are markedly
different from each other). I strongly recommend Acousma,
even though I imagine my review has left many of you
scratching your heads and wondering "Yeah, but what does it
sound like?" Well, there is no easy answer to that
question. Acousma sounds like music that has been changed
and transformed (as Thompson states in the notes above) into
something new, exciting, and courageous, and also something
dangerous, scary, and unstable. It's a statement of how
unique and startling this CD is that if I was pressed to
compare it to anyone else that I know, I'd say this: If L.
Gaab and Daniel Byerly (recording under his pseudonym
Bertrom Cabot Jr.) mind-melded and recorded an album, you
might get something that sounds like this. But, on the other
hand, Robert Scott Thompson is such a rugged individualist
when it comes to composition (never taking the easy path in
anything he records), even that comparison is hopelessly
flawed. In the end, Acousma
will delight and thrill you if you are searching for music
that strays far afield of traditional ambient or even
twentieth century classical or avant garde recordings. While
not as unfriendly as some of what I have received from the
Staalplaat label (which, in my opinion, frequently is just
bizarre noise), Acousma is seldom, if ever,
accessible or "normal" in any true sense of the word. But
somehow, through all the altered sounds and brief strains of
familiarity, something amazingly artistic and innately human
emerges. I don't know how or why, but Acousma speaks
to the open-minded listener in tones that are both alien and
native. It's an amazing album! review by
Bill Binkelman
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If there are awards for an unjustly ignored albums in the ambient genre, I'd probably cast one of my votes for Robert Scott Thompson's Air Friction. With all the adoration (deserved, I might add) of works from Brian Eno (such as Music for Airports) and Harold Budd (such as Lovely Thunder and his collaboration with Eno, The Pearl), I don't understand why Air Friction is seldom mentioned. The fourteen cuts on this recording are gentle minimal sound paintings, usually quite beautiful, and ranging from just over two minutes to a notch over seven. Some of pieces bear some resemblance to Tim Story's music, except that where Story uses the repetition of a musical phrase, Thompson follows a more fluid and evolving method. For instance, the opening cut "The Moon and Certain Angles" weds delicate bell-like tones with several underlying layers of electronics, including a serene wash that bathes the song in a soft warm light. The underlying washes of keyboards ebb and flow in a series of electronic sighs. It's an evocative and emotional opening selection. Differences between Thompson and Eno/Budd include a relative (note the use of that word) lack of "naked" acoustic instrumentation as well as a more exploratory nature to the music. Pitch bending and occasional subtle dissonance is mixed in with the sad beauty to create not so much a sense of disquiet as much as a sense of unfamiliarity - as in memories (or photographs) that have begun to fade. But these devices I mentioned do nothing to diminish the loveliness of songs like "Pure Vision Through a Looking Glass," or the title cut. Instead, they add a maturity and intellectual quality to the music (which is another similarity to Tim Story, whose recordings I consider among the most intelligent in the genre). The choruses, synth-oboe, piano and guitar on the title cut elicit deeply emotional responses - this is seriously sad music yet is devoid of faux sentimentality. "Sky of Albion" is another gem (background echoed wood-chime effects played against an assortment of lush yet tragic keyboards) as is the rhythmic (courtesy of assorted electronic drum beats) "The Westward Way," which does contain the use of a repeated refrain (and, as such, evokes the feeling of movement along a road). On "A Picture of Moments" the pitch-bending to the synths gives the cut an off-kilter feel but in a most pleasant way - almost cheerful in fact. "The Shifting of Spheres" opens with washes of synths and wind chimes tinkling, before somber piano, synth choruses, and cello combine to paint an elegy of sorts. It's a stately piece and one that would not be out of place at a funeral, but not because it's sad - it's reverential. In fact, for some reason, when I listen to Air Friction, I can't help but think this music is meant for worship in some regard. It has a cathedral-like quality to it that I can't isolate, but I feel it quite palpably. However, thank goodness the music is never pretentious or sanctimonious. It's a testament to Robert Scott Thompson that I never heard the music calling attention to itself. Still, make no mistake about it - this is a brave exercise in ambient music. Just because I have drawn comparisons to Eno, Budd and Story - Air Friction is highly unique (the closing cut, "Atmosphere," marries hand percussion with echoed piano and muted electric guitar). But it remains imminently accessible to fans of the artists I have mentioned. As such, if you have works by them, I recommend adding this to your collection. And when you get it, really explore it - song by song on headphones. There's a lot of sonic wonder in these tracks. Make sure you hear it all. Review by Bill Binkelman |
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The more I listened to the collaborative album between Robert Scott Thompson and James Johnson, Forgotten Places, the more I tried to isolate what it was that Robert "brought to the party" which made this CD such an astounding piece of work. I heard definite elements of James Johnson's trademark minimalist ambient piano and keyboards (some which were new on this CD), but I also knew there was a musical element that represented a marked, if not a drastic departure, for the man (Johnson) I once referred to as the heir apparent to Brian Eno. It was, perhaps, the twelfth or fifteenth listening. I was preparing Sunday dinner for an (quite ill) Kathryn, who was asleep on the couch. The setting sun was streaming into the kitchen from the back sunroom's windows and Onyx was outside harassing squirrels on a perfect early autumn evening. I felt a sense of calm brought on by the combination of hearing this music I loved along with performing an activity that I loved (cooking). Wham! That's when it hit me! James Johnson has always worked in long-form music, including his destined-to-be-classic effort with Stephen Philips, Lost at Dunn's Lake (an album-length piece of music). Robert, on the other hand, is consummately talented at piecing together shorter songs, unified by an intangible feel, yet still quite varied (if one breaks down the music technically). That was the key to this unique album! And that is also why I'm prepared to make a statement that's quite bold, even for a critic like me (who's prone to wax eloquently about many album I enjoy). Forgotten Places may well be The Pearl for the new millennium. If you're not familiar with The Pearl, it's a considerably older recording, a collaboration between Brian Eno and Harold Budd (two musicians more or less credited with creating the genre of minimal ambient music). The Pearl is considered, by many, to be one of the finest and most influential albums ever recorded in this genre. And yes, I'm now fully aware what I have written about Forgotten Places. And yes, it's that good. Ten tone poems, each unique and suffused with an amazing balancing act of emotional impact - serene yet brimming with tension, tragic yet achingly beautiful, mournful yet content, and melancholic yet hopeful. This truly is the perfect union of two superlative musical talents! The music on Forgotten Places can be as restrained as gentle minimal piano notes suspended over a soft whisper of synthesizers, or it can carry strains of synth strings, synth choruses, overt electronic effects, or even synthesized woodwinds to flesh the sound out until the music is like a miniaturist piece of neo-classical music. Like an assorted collection of fine gems, e.g. jade, opal, sapphire, onyx, ruby, and, well, pearl, each song on the album sparkles in its own individual way. The opening number, "A Slow Return," will sound instantly familiar to Johnson fans, with minimal piano accented by both a solitary synth string and string section, along with hushed synth choruses. The sound is so fragile and delicate, yet so beautiful that it fills the room with a warm glow. "Resonant Landscape" starts off with a cello-like sound, soon joined by other strings (a viola, perhaps), evoking comparisons to Tim Story, until the subtle dissonance of what sounds like a flute briefly flits into view. As the song develops, it becomes a duet of sorts between floating synth chords and piano, with occasional contributions from a solo violin. The piece has a fuller sound than the first cut, yet the comparison to Story's brilliant miniaturism is right on the mark. As stated above, the music deftly maneuvers between polar opposite evocations - peaceful yet with a thread of regret running through it...an unasked question or a word of comfort not offered in a time of need perhaps. Heavy duty stuff? Well, my emotional response to the album was pretty intense, but the music on Forgotten Places is not in the least bit oppressive. That's the genius of these two musicians, i.e. their combined ability to weave such complex and deep emotions into music that can be heard as something relatively simple (this is, of course, the very essence of minimalism when it's done right, as it's performed here). While I have only described two songs, I'm aware that I have to rein in my enthusiasm somewhat or no one will finish reading this review due to its length. Again, I want to stress that the individual selections on Forgotten Places brim with individuality, yet the common thread of piano, synth, and a minimalist approach winds its way throughout all ten cuts. There are moments of dissonance and atonality, but never in the least are these harsh or obtrusive. Instead, these occurrences (and they are rare, believe me) serve as brilliant counterpoints, effectively undercutting any possibility (remote as it would be otherwise) that the listener would feel the music is too warm or too "pretty." Cuts like "Innocence Lost," which approach a darker texture, with more overt spacy synth effects, still retain a core of humanity, the same way that Tim Story does likewise when he eschews piano (such as on "Eyelids of the Sea" from Beguiled). Favorite songs for me would be the opening number ("A Slow Return"), "Stolen Moment," "Then & Now" (with gorgeous use of synth choruses and synth woodwinds - or so they sound to me), "Low and Clear," which contains brief environmental sounds (water lapping at the shore) amid a less melancholic use of keyboards and synths, the lovely but quite sad "Malay," with cello, violin, piano and keyboards, and the album closing "Endless," which ends the CD on a somewhat optimistic, yet not necessarily cheery note. Fans of The Pearl should (obviously) order this CD immediately! So should fans of either of the two artists (Budd or Eno) who recorded that album. In addition, lovers of Tim Story's work, and those of you out there who own (and love) the late Dan Hartman's New Green Clear Blue will also find this CD to your liking, I'd wager. Unless you are almost zealously committed to only long-form ambient music or are loathe to listen to piano mixed in with electronic keyboards, I would be amazed if you don't enjoy (to put it mildly) Forgotten Places as much as I did. Whether or not you feel it deserves to be compared to The Pearl I can't say. In my opinion, if it doesn't equal that masterpiece, it comes as damn close to it as anyone ever will. Kudos to James and Robert. Need I say it? My highest recommendation. review by Bill Binkelman |
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After releasing The Silent Shore last year, people finally took some real notice of one of the strongest electronic keyboard players composing and performing today - Robert Scott Thompson. His new release on Mirage, Frontier, is a near perfect exploration of the place where dark ambient meets floating ambient in a myriad of expansive soundfields. From the first cut, "Cloud Fragments," with almost whispered synth washes rising and falling (a la Liquid Mind) it's apparent this will be sonic voyage of deep spaciousness. Each of the songs on this recording flow into the next one, despite the relative variety of tone and mood between them. Take this first transition from cut one to cut two, "Lumina." Immediately apparent is a change in tone to a darker more noir-like style of music. Heavily reverbed gongs echo along with minor tone chimes, while disturbing effects come in and out of focus. This is deliciously different dark ambient in its use of synth effects and bell-like tones. There is the "noir characteristic" deep bass rumbling present, as well. The next transition again provides a contrast between moods, as the third song, the title cut, is faded in via the sound of crickets and long synth washes and synth strings. Not as pastoral as the first song nor as dark as the second, "Frontier" paints a sonic image of a vast expanse of land opening up ahead of you (great visualizing music!). The piece blends ominous rumblings with those sadly soft synth strings for quite a dramatic effect. Throughout the rest of the album (which I'd love to delve into here but it would take too many words to describe), Robert paints from a myriad of sonic textures, some more calm than others. He has a startling command of layering his keyboards. While I have mentioned the change in mood between songs, I found none of it jarring in the least. Far from it, Frontier is one of the best ambient releases I have heard in a while. Robert's richly complex compositions combined with his excellent technical production (headphone listening is a revelation) make for a deep space/dark ambient experience that should prove a wonderful ride for all fans of either genre. Extra points are awarded for outstanding album graphics and evocative liner notes detailing the composer's thoughts about each track. Well done, indeed! review by Bill Binkelman |