VARIOUS ARTISTS

Em:t 0003

Em:t Records (2003)

 

Some out there still regard 1994 as the golden year in ambient music. I'm not sure I agree with this assessment, but I can say with certainty that 1994 was surely a watershed of ambient, featuring a brace of new labels and a bumper crop of excellent ambient releases. To be sure, ambient as of 1994 had learned a trick or two from its younger sibling: techno--allowing a previously maligned genre to assimilate a more listener-friendly attitude--not to mention serving to introduce a new generation of people to artists like Brian Eno, Tangerine Dream, and many others.

 

Amidst the ambient-techno explosion of 1994, and perhaps to some degree eclipsed by the overwhelmingly vapid chill-out style music being marketed as ambient at the time, a label rose to brief buzz and even more brief existence: Em:t. The Em:t series of CDs were unified in design, but featured a staggeringly diverse array of artists--from the often-jazzy chill of Woob to the near musique concrete of Carl Stone. Em:t had early success, and a stateside licensing deal with chill-out techno label Instinct (one of the main labels responsible for new ambient's 1994 marketing blitz). After quite a few excellent compilations and full-lengths, the Em:t label had accumulated considerable debt, and went the way of the dodo (as with many smaller indie labels). The ambient marketing bubble of the early nineties had burst, and Em:t was a casualty.

 

This does not detract from Em:t's importance as a label of fine taste and diversity, and it pleases me especially to see that it has been resuscitated, now, in 2003, with the same care and attention to label uniformity of style. Frankly, I feel Em:t was always unfairly classified as an ambient label (perhaps due to being part of Instinct's ambient line)--Em:t championed difficult, usually electronic, music that rewarded careful attention and a decent stereo system. And now, in 2003, we have the first offering from the new Em:t: Em:t 0003, which is appropriately a compilation, just as the original Em:t 0094 was, way back in '94. Does it hold up when regarded with past Em:t triumphs by Woob, Gas, and their often sublime compilations? Track by track, let's see:

 

• Track one, by Gregor Samsa, is anything but insectoid, featuring a lovely piano and guitar melody that would not be out of place on a mid-period Durutti Column release. Once the horn comes in, we begin to drift to a sunnier place, and as quickly as the track started, it is over.
• Two, by another newcomer, Radium 88, seeks to tell the story of "The Loneliness of the Long Distance Space Traveller." It is a lonely, melancholy track indeed--reminiscent of Eno's Apollo--but space is warm, here. This is a definite highlight to the compilation.
• Next is original Em:t mainstay Gas, now recording as High Skies. The sound hasn't changed much since the mid-nineties, and this is an altogether pleasant ambient-techno trip that wouldn't be out of place on an original Em:t compilation.
• Beatsystem return from post-Em:t limbo to contribute "Alabama" which illustrates the intoxicating strength of the original CD series. Unlikely samples, twangy guitar, audio manipulation, and a great beat all make this track an excellent Southern-flavored journey. This is the type of music Em:t featured during its first incarnation, and at that point was shockingly ahead of its time. In 2003, the track fits right in with what's going on in electronic music now--making the original Em:t material all the more ahead of its time.
• Brannan Lane contributes "Desert Sunrise," a spitting image of Steve Roach desertscape circa 1988 mixed with more modern synthwork--a nice update. Perhaps not the strongest work I've heard from Lane (see my review of Immense Distance) but a more than worthy track on the compilation.
• International Peoples Gang return with another pretty cutup of sampled dialogue and music, forming another intriguing track. The addition of laptop trickery and vocals create a bizarre laptop folk. International Peoples Gang was always a mysterious presence on Em:t compilations with some pretty out-there stuff--this is no exception, but you won't be hitting the skip button; it's a great listen.
• Chushen & Cugin give us "The Sutra" which reminds me strongly of the now quite dated tracks by Sine/Symetrics/Mendocino from the original Em:t series. This track does not have the benefit of a 1994-5 release date, and is thus worse for wear.
• Former Orb member Andy Hughes contributes the lovely "I Can't Hear You" consisting of chime tones and a bouncy beat that would not be out of place on a Black Dog album. It's a great track, with excellent samples and melodies that remind me of Kraftwerk mated with Severed Heads. A highlight.
• Richie Warburton brings us the extremely ambient "OO"--a radiant track with echoed samples and warm synth. Creative percussives permeate the background, and eventually the synthwork begins to resemble Deep Space Network during their prime.  
• Finally, Mia's "Savannah" is a brief ambient track with droned, metallic synth and a deep low end mixed with vocal samples, similar to Woob or Bad Data. A great finish.

 

Em:t 0003 is a fine compilation in all, and pays due respect to Em:t's rich history. I feel, to some degree, that this past history has rooted the contributing artists too much in past sounds and genres. One of Em:t's original strengths was its commitment to varied, often difficult sonic anachronisms and experiments. While this is a well mixed, varied compilation, it is nothing we haven't heard before (often prior to the year 2000). I don't feel music should be pressured to constantly innovate, but in this case, the newer artists to the Em:t label seem to focus too greatly on already well-tread ambient/electronic pathways rather than trailblaze like Beatsystem or International Peoples Gang (who continue to create sterling, rewarding work on this compilation). In a way, the music within is similar to the cover art--a label identity is a positive thing, but it must not be forgotten that this unity can be limiting. Many of the artists on the compilation never rise above past Em:t glories, instead finding satisfaction in recreating the original Em:t mystique. Frankly, I don't believe that this is what the original Em:t was all about.

 

Nevertheless, this is an excellent compilation, even if not essential. I welcome the return of Em:t, and I hope to hear more intriguing, difficult sounds from this seminal label.

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ASHERA

Enviro

Self-released (2003)

I once read a review of Ashera's Colour Glow that posited the music therein was inescapably derivative of past ambient works, too obviously pretty, and lacking in creative inspiration. This is why I dislike music reviews, and, in turn, why I started The Ambient Review. If there are no voices of sense in this world, no written words in this world that can trumpet the pursuit of beauty, the search for radiant meaning through art; if there is only the insistent murmur of "not difficult enough" or "not demanding enough"--then we truly should not appreciate art and music for what it is. We should give all of our intellectual and artistic pursuits up, and dwell in some grey aesthetic factory--no music, no art, just the dronings of some florid music critic. Thank heavens criticism is only an opinion--what world would we live in if it were truth?

It is in this spirit of unabashed beauty and unobfuscated charm of composition, we have Enviro, the fifth album by Australian ambient artist Ashera. This is pure atmospheric ambient music, in the undiluted vein of classic Harold Budd releases like The White Arcades. Budd pursued beautiful music for its own sake, as a reaction to many of the more difficult experimental composers of the time. Anthony Wright, as Ashera, has the same goal; arguably in a musical landscape where beauty is often looked upon as a negative or "easy" attribute rather than a positive, enriching quality. This attitude is abject nonsense--Wright has crafted five albums of utmost beauty, the type of beauty anyone can find in their lives--if they know where to look.

Enviro's cover portrays a colorful landscape of washed-out skies, bloomed fields, pastoral farmhouses and their occupants. Listening to an Ashera record recalls all the greatest childhood memories--whether you grew up in a bucolic landscape like the cover's, or a booming metropolis (or somewhere in between, like myself). While the practiced Ashera formula is indeed present here, echoing past triumphs like the before-mentioned Colour Glow, the first lilts of track one, "Welcome Aura Mar" remind us this is a newer, fresher work--mindful of earlier work, but with a forward outlook. Wright's instrumentation has always been deceptively simple--warm synth textures, pretty female vox, bell tones, and other accents. This usual spareness of sound makes new vocabularies all the more stark and exotic--in this case, a sonorous organ or a mellotron-type synth sound. Wright's attention to breathtaking sounds and the all-important spaces between notes is impeccable--rivaling Budd's, to this listener's ears. "After the Drought" has an almost tentative feel, as if a child looks slowly around a corner wondering what she might view. Here, there are no horrors--only marvels, like a colossal never-ending summer. This is the understated strength of an Ashera CD, it is the sound of the feeling you get when the world spins around you, and you and the universe seem to move in unison--a joyous, harmonious dance of life well-lived. "Two Be Three" is a dramatic tableau of shifting organ tones, somehow serious but welcoming. Here we hear: looking into a new lover's eyes, all that mystery yet unfolded. "Smile and Nostalgia" pretty much sums up the terrific appeal of Ashera for me--it is unquestionably the type of listening experience that brings back pleasant, ethereal memories unbidden. Childhoods well-spent reading good books, playing in innocent harmony with other children, laying back on warm, dry grass, and imagining the earth move beneath as the clouds inexorably roll by. I often find myself sighing when listening to music of this nature--it's really quite an invigorating tonic.<p>

The tracks of Enviro wash over you repeatedly, warmly cascading, inducing guilty chills down the spine. If this is music that should be ashamed of itself for not breaking down creative barriers, or being difficult, rigorous listening--well, count me in as one of the happily ashamed. This is music that will remind you of lovers, past and present; old glories, relived. I want to be reminded of these things, and this music takes me there every time. This is the music of a better world, where everyone knows when to slow down, smile, relax. If a little beauty like this can be shared as simply as listening to a recording like this, the world is in good hands with Anthony Wright's Ashera project. Enviro is seventy plus minutes of pure bliss; like staring into a cerulean pool's depths just because it's gorgeous. Perhaps Enviro answers no questions, assumes too little. Perhaps. But this record promises no answers in the first place. It is solace, pure and simple. It serves as a reminder that beauty is not lost in this world, nor should it ever be. Anyone who tells you to be ashamed by the appreciation of unassuming beauty is a fool--one should cherish it in all its forms, large or small. Though Enviro is not the tour de force performance of the previous Ashera work, We Gaia, it is a more than worthy entry in Wright's recent, stunning career in modern ambient music. And that is nothing to be ashamed about. My highest recommendation.

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ALIO DIE & MATHIAS GRASSOW

Expanding Horizon

Release (2003)

Sometimes I forget just how obscure certain ambient/atmospheric artists are in the broad scheme of things. For me, the names Alio Die and Mathias Grassow mean deep drones and no small amount of prodigious output. However, both of these artists have only released works on, at best, obscure labels. That's why it is doubly refreshing to see Expanding Horizon--it is the first collaboration by two extremely complimentary artists, and it is the first widely released CD (ignoring Alio Die's releases on Projekt, which aside from the masterful Apsaras were woefully under-distributed and now out of print) by either of them. It's great to see this type of music finally filtering into larger retail outlets. I can only hope it helps to get the word out about two fascinating sound craftsmen.

Expanding Horizon was originally available on vinyl from Amplexus, and now is a sprawling two CD set with much, much more music. Musically, it is exactly what you might expect from both artists--a rich drone-based tapestry, steeped in Eastern mysticism and instrumentation courtesy of the recent styles we've seen from Grassow. Alio Die fans be warned: Musso's contribution is largely culled from previous sound sources that a freakish Alio Die completist (like yours truly) will recognize instantly. Parts of this recording are lifted straight from Incantamento, almost to the point where it seems Grassow is "remixing" previously released material. However, ignoring the fact that many people picking up the disc will not have heard Incantamento, this is no reason not to buy this disc. This is rather like saying the sky is only beautiful without clouds! While the Alio Die atmospheres are extremely familiar, Grassow, Klaus Wiese, and occasionally Carsten Agthe add enough to the mix to create an almost wholly different work. I'm used to hearing Grassow take pre-existing Wiese material and creating new, fascinating work--in fact, it says something about Grassow's great talent that he is able to do this and not harm or dilute the integrity of the source material.

A major attribute of Expanding Horizon is the increased attention to nature samples over the course of both discs. I've always enjoyed this effect, because it naturally grounds the celestial course of the music and creates a verdant, sylvan effect, akin to resting in a densely forested area and listening to the music of the spheres around. These extremely atmospheric selections are awash in water trickles, cicada, crickets, whispery wind, and subvocalizations. The drones are what you would expect from Alio Die (which is a selling point, for me) and the overlaid textures by Grassow are equally entrancing. This is a living, breathing atmosphere, with the benefit of extremely excellent production--something often lacking on Grassow or Wiese releases (like the otherwise excellent Holy Domain). The nature samples are almost in surround sound out of speakers, and through headphones it is like being outside with Alio Die and Grassow as musical company.

The first disc focuses more on textural drones accompanied by pervasive nature samples, occasionally broken up with martial sounding percussion. The tracks all blend together well as a totality--though there are eight tracks, there are unobtrusive transitions between cuts. There is a nighttime feel to this entire set, as if the artists wish you to play the music during dusk as the earth begins to settle into sleep. Occasionally the atmospheres are so intense they are breathtaking. There is even extremely engaging zither playing, bringing that vague Middle Eastern or Indian tone I mentioned earlier.

The second disc inhabits this Eastern continent less subtly, with an increased focus on stringed instrumentation of varying origin. While the first disc's content can be more readily applied to any experience in time or place, the second disc recalls for me the dusky nights of Scheherazade and her mysterious, often erotic, tales of the Arabian Nights. This disc does not have the aridity of Rich & Moskow's fine Yearning disc, but the flair and elan of the Arabian Nights in their timeless splendor are here to enjoy. The second disc is more sonically varied than the first, which makes it my favorite of the two. While disc one focused more on textures, the second disc allows much more development in instrumentation and mood. A clear highlight is the nearly thirty minute "Brugh na Boine--The Elves Realm," which functions as a culmination of all the tracks before it on the album. It is an incredible mixture of nature samples, atmospheres, and the spirited zither work displayed over the second disc. The title leads me to believe it's inspired by Celtic mythology--in my mind, it's difficult to kick the Middle Eastern vibe.

I cannot think of a better introduction to Alio Die and Mathias Grassow than Expanding Horizon. While I find that certain work by each individual to be more satisfying (Grassow's Bliss or The Fragrance of Eternal Roses, Alio Die's Leaves Net or Password for Entheogenic Experience, for example), this is a more than worthy entry into both canons. I must also say that Release's packaging is absolutely sumptuous, with gothic and ethereal imagery. It's clear they are trying to appeal to the vast goth audience, but with such attention to fine design it's an absolutely excusable marketing angle. It is my hope that releases like this will compel new listeners to pick up the more obscure offerings by both artists on Amplexus and Hic Sunt Leones. Until that happens, it's wonderful for the initiated like me to have such a sprawling and impressive new work by both artists.

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PARADIGM 9

The Halo Effect

Magnanimous Records (2003)

The Halo Effect is a twenty-one minute ambient confection by newcomers Paradigm 9. It's on an aesthetically pleasing three-inch CD, and proves over repeated listens to be a recording of great depth and variation.

The Halo Effect functions over the constant drone of night-time crickets, always in the forefront of the mix, that gives this entire recording the distinct flavor of Brian Eno's On Land in its dusk-toned, evening ambience. Though these nature samples give the entire work a cohesive structure, the instrumental touches over the twenty-one minute length slowly shift the composition along through a number of complimentary sonic themes. In the beginning of the track, one hears a flute-like sound that seamlessly gives way to a vaguely menacing underlying drone (perhaps from a guitar). Gradually, a more recognizable guitar strums along with the ambience, warming things up with rich, sustained chords. This becomes somewhat similar to The Azuza Plane, as the track glides along dreamily, as if one is slowly floating along a murky lake at night.

A horn rises up, very low in the mix, quietly playing in the background. Gently the track begins to take a meandering, relaxed quality. We are drifting on the lake in a verdant, humid place. There are homesteads along the shore, with music drifting softly from their windows, as if played on distantly wound Victrolas. The air of mystery is thick around; in nighttime, plantlife begins to appear more alien and undefined. A vague piano is heard--someone ashore is playing, perhaps, though only isolated notes are audible. The droning has taken on the quality of processed cello by this point as we continue to drift along the overgrown, dark shore. Dissonant textures come and go, always low in volume, and never distracting. This is a pleasant journey, one that oscillates between wakefulness and sleep as the sonic surrounds quietly shift along with the landscape. By the track's end, the lullaby-like guitar sounds recede into silence, allowing the crickets to take over as one drifts off into infinite night. All that is left with the vocal insect choir is the faint sound of a finished record, skipping on a groove, somewhere ashore.

The guitar sound is one of the highlights of this recording, providing a resonant atmosphere. This is a seemingly improvised recording, and the musicians involved seem to synch very well with each other, contributing complimentary touches without any one element taking precedent over another. The overall sound is neither dark nor light, an ambiguousness that suits the work quite well. The recording itself is somewhat murky, with low-fi, indie production that normally turns me off. However, the atmosphere presented by Paradigm 9 is well suited by this lack of crisp sound, giving the work an aged feel, as if it were being played on well-worn vinyl. Sonic purists beware.

This is a terrific little gem of a recording from a group and label I'd not previously heard. The EP length is just right for the piece, not too long, welcoming the listener to play it repeatedly. I'm quite impressed by this work, and fans of deep, nighttime ambience will not be disappointed with the dreamy effects of The Halo Effect.

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MANUAL

Isares

Static Caravan (2003)

Jonas Munk, indie wunderkind who most often records under the moniker Manual, gave me one of the most pleasant surprises of 2001--his first widely-available full-length, Until Tomorrow. It was a record of fine nuance, available on the then new Morr Music label, which functions as a sort of clearing house of sunny, indie electronica. Much of Morr's output has been a bit too sweet for this listener's tastes--but Manual hit just the right notes, with a satisfying blend of hip-hop beats, Slowdive or Durutti Column guitar swoon, and completely addictive melodies. Until Tomorrow was certainly one of my favorite releases of that year, and Munk followed it up with an excellent second effort: Ascend.

Now, in 2003, we have Manual's EP Isares--a twenty-five minute collection of four tracks. Part of the strength of Manual's music is its instant listenability--it's comfortable, like a well-worn pair of shoes. Manual's style is clearly informed by past musical acts we know and love, but shot-through with a modern flavor that makes the sounds of past masters more fresh and exciting. This quality is what made Until Tomorrow so satisfying--if you can imagine the delicate guitarwork of Vini Reilly matched with virtuoso drum programming, you're somewhere near the pleasures of Munk's skill

Track one, "A Familiar Place," has an apt title, for this sounds like it would not be out of place onUntil Tomorrow. The sound is moodier, but the textures and "scissor-sounding" beats are ever-present. This is an excellent taster track for what Manual was originally lauded for, though listeners already acquainted with Munk's work have heard this long ago. "Stealing Through" is a pretty, pastoral, reverbed guitar song--featuring some atmospheres that wax and wane along with the guitar melody. This is a dreamy, sedate track, setting the tone of the rest of the EP. "Wake" fully acknowledges Munk's debt to Slowdive (more, in my opinion than his tracks on the Morr Slowdive tribute Blue Skied an' Clear). Trancy, manipulated female vox coo along with stately-paced drum programming, sampled gull sounds, and guitar ambience. If you told me Rachel Goswell was the vocalist, I'd believe you--this is a perfect Slowdive "pastiche" which reminds shoegaze fans everywhere that the genre is not dead, merely transformed. Finally, "Horizon" comes a something of a surprise as Munk chooses to dispense with drum programming entirely to instead focus on a meandering, almost nine minute, near-ambient track. Here Munk reveals his hand too readily--the material is not strong or practiced enough in execution to support its length. This has none of the dreamy power of the more ambient tracks on Slowdive's Pygmalion, for example, which drifted purposefully while lulling the listener sweetly along. "Horizon" is ineffective, and merely drifts in and out leaving little lasting impression on the listener. An unfortunate misstep on an otherwise excellent little EP

Isares proves to be something of a holding pattern for Manual, which leads me to believe that Munk may have exhausted his bag of tricks for the time being. Somehow the work seems constrained--like the cover art (very, very similar to Ascend's), Manual seems to be unable to rise above past works, perhaps preferring to offer variations of the same theme. While I dislike greatly placing pressure on artists to constantly update their styles to keep up with trends, part of me feels as if the sunny electronica championed by Manual and many of his Morr labelmates is a stylistic one-trick pony. If this is the case, listeners may feel that owning Until Tomorrow and Ascend (not to mention the fantastic Limp side-project, also on Morr) is quite enough Manual for their collections. Isares is by no means essential, but it does bring up compelling questions about where Munk's eventual directions lie. I'm reserving judgment for the next Manual LP release which will surely be the deciding factor.

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PRINCIPLE OF SILENCE

Live

Self-released (2003)

We last heard from the combination of Joris De Backer and VidnaObmana on the double album set The Surreal Sanctuary and The Contemporary Nocturne. The two have decided to intensify their previous collaborative works by forming a new ensemble called Principle of Silence. Right from the start, it must be said that this is a group project--lest one think this another permutation of VidnaObmana's chameleon-like musical presence in the electronic ambient scene. Truly, from the opening moments of their first album release, Live, it is clear that the two are treading wholly new ground--an almost avant-jazz pathway, in fact, but still with the trappings of ambient we have come to expect from every VidnaObmana release.

Live begins with "Solstice" which combines bowed bass harmonies with a plaintive fujara. Eventually this opens up to a bleak harmonic landscape, picked through with plucked bass tones--De Backer is playing his upright bass alongside post-industrial ambience in a strange melody, akin to improvisation. This seems to be a distinct quality of Principle of Silence--it is ambient, melancholy improvisation. Eventually, after some soundscaping, sonorous percussion, shakers, and continued bowed bass propel the album into track two "The Underneath"; which resembles a funereal dirge. This is a welcome change from track one which meanders less purposefully than previous VidnaObmana efforts. Here on track two, we find the two musicians achieving a balance in style--what begins as a procession of decaying harmonic elements has now become a synchronous intuition between both artists who weave each of their styles together in a dance of complex and heady character. Bass melodies intertwine with recycled harmonies, tribal fujara, and low vocalizations. Slowly, the percussion bleeds away to leave a duet between VidnaObmana recycling and De Backer's powerful bass playing. What began as a rather flat soundscape in track one has metamorphosized into an intriguing blend of atmospherics and decidedly earthy bass virtuosity. Seamlessly the bass fades out, leaving only harmonics to herald in track three, "Choral." This is a gorgeous paean of vocalized call-to-prayer with the wall of sound harmonic presence (perhaps derived from electric guitar?) from track two. It is as if we have reached the summit of a journey evidenced from the previous portions of the album--trudge through post-industrial landscape to the mountaintop where absolute transcendence awaits. The overall feeling of the album is distinctly melancholy, but there are rays of hope throughout, urging one further.

"Choral" is over far too swiftly, and drifts directly into the uncertain darkness of "Netherworld." This track features a startling amped bass--bringing the otherworldly textures of "Choral" right back down to Earth. Eventually, De Backer begins soloing on top of this bass pulsation. It is limiting to call this jazz, though it is the closest parallel. De Backer's playing is very fine, making an excellent case for the place of distinct "playing" of instruments in a largely formless sonic genre. VidnaObmana and De Backer continue in this way throughout the "Netherworld" reaching sublime combinations of their two very distinct sounds. The deep bass tones are a terrific complement to the bleak soundscapes--the two have propelled us into a world that may make one shudder, but it is not without its intoxicating merits and strange, foreign pleasures. The final track, "The Fall," has breathy fujara, meandering bass, and a traditional VidnaObmana synth loop. If one can imagine a combination of portions of Terrace of Memories with De Backer's excellent bass, you come close to the tone of "The Fall." This is an entrancing, resonant, neo-classical ending to the album, which, alongside "Choral," is the highlight of the work. The spell is broken finally with the pleased applause of the night's audience, reminding us that we are not in some timeless land, but merely cast beneath the spell of two very talented musicians.

It is appropriate that De Backer and VidnaObmana have chosen a project name for this new venture. This is work that cannot be attributed to either musician more than the other, and makes for a distinctly different permutation of what we've heard from both in the past. The improvised quality of some the music (which was, after all, recorded live) causes some spots of aimless soundscaping, which lessen the impact of the album as a whole. However, often the very improvisation that lessens overall impact in one portion of the CD is the greatest attribute of the album in another portion. In this way, it can be said that Live is a tentative step in the right direction for Principle of Silence. Clearly Live is not the most focused work we can expect from the two, but unquestionably it is a sure sign that Principle of Silence's most crystallized and pure work is ahead of them. I look forward to hearing their assured sonic development.

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SAMSA

Sounds Good On Paper

Dark Winter (2003)

Though their original label collective, Green House Music, is sadly gone, the respective artists have moved on to continue the creation of various types of ambient and electronic music. Nathan Larson, who records as Samsa, had a respectable track on the Green House compilation Convergent Evolution, and has pressed his own way by starting a new CD-R label devoted to dark ambient called Dark Winter. Apparently, Larson has quite a backlog of tracks: enough to fill several albums worth--this release, Sounds Good On Paper is the second (of three) such productions this year.

I'll admit up front, lest there be any confusion, that I have never been all that turned on by dark ambient recordings. Certainly there are dark ambient titles that have appealed to me, but, by and large, menacing ambient nightmare-scapes are just not my thing. That said, upon listening to the first track on Sounds Good..., "Drifter," I got nervous. Distorted vocal chatter, and echoed conversations end up sounding distinctly frightening--I'm glad I cannot understand what is actually being said; surely something threatening! But, as I was soon to learn, there are twenty tracks on this disc--and a wealth of fabulously diverse material. A perfect example is the next track, "Plate Walk Away" which inhabits early Alio Die territory--subterranian drones, steely synth washes, plinking noises, and a lullaby-like deep "melody" behind, which is quite similar to the Musso template seen on Under an Holy Ritual. Now that's more like it!

I'll forgo my usual track-by-track rundown, but I will say that one of the most positive aspects about Sounds Good On Paper is its diversity--surely if you dislike one track, you will find another that really "does it" for you. Standouts for me were "Goat Abyssal" which also inhabits the same Alio Die-inspired terrain as track two, complete with gurgling watery noises and stretched, mutated sounds, perhaps organic in nature. "Unused Vessels" out-Rapoons Rapoon, with walls of ambience looped and decaying all over themselves. I love soundscaping like this; it's easy to become lost in all the near-overwhelming, but complimentary, tones. "Dead Telephones" also has a distinctly Rapoon-like quality, stemming from the angelic, textured vocalizations--Samsa is far more laid back and traditionally ambient, lacking the percussive drive of the majority of Rapoon's material.

Many of the tracks have that "inside the machine" quality; claustrophobic, mysterious, somehow menacing. "Quantum Foam" electrically operates around you. Unfortunately, you do not know what sort of machine surrounds you, or how it works--it could be fulfilling some horrifying purpose above, and you may never know. "Still Do" seems to occupy an organic place, with insectoid chirrups and organ synth-tone melodies slowed down to almost non-motion. "Forward Music" shifts and slides, never settling into familiar patterns beyond an overlying loop. Perhaps this is the music of the future, one we may never have the consciousness to truly understand as future denizens of Earth might. "Whiskey Ditch" is an almost glitchy composition, as if dark ambient and the clicks and cuts school of digitalism have combined into an oddly-formed beast ambling along on muted percussion. This is a great track, and a highlight of the album alongside tracks two and three. Whoa!--"Unstable Molecule" surprises us with a blast of shuddering noise, which eventually plummets us down deep into a thin tunnel which is "Nolder." Something is down there, but do we truly wish to know what? "Paper Bird" is a tribute to Mister Rogers, and indeed we find Larson's touchingly cut-up vocal samples of Rogers' voice--a fitting dark ambient memorial. I wonder what Rogers would have thought of it, had he heard it.

Larson has crafted an often difficult, often beautiful work of utmost variation. While Sounds Good On Paper lacks the continuity to allow it to become more than a collection of disparate tracks, in a way I find this to be a benefit. I must admit that much of this CD operated in a more menacing territory than I am inclined to. However, this is purely my predilection, and I am positive that those interested in the darker sides of electronic manipulations will enjoy the totality of Sounds Good... very, very much. That said, there is much to enjoy here even if your tastes fall on the less spooky side of ambient. This is listenable, risk-taking work, and the numerous risks taken are to Larson's credit. "Sounds Good" indeed.

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JEFF PEARCE

Summer Solstice

Self-released (2003)

The inherently visual qualities of ambient music are perhaps one of the strongest appeals of the genre. One can imagine beautiful vistas, arcane rituals, traveling to unknown areas, all in the space of a single album's play. In this way it is akin to visual art, where the attentive viewer instills a piece with his or her own personal interpretation and meaning, quite often separate from any intentions the creator of the art work had when the piece was executed. This powerful response often increases the appeal of a certain musical composition beyond the confines of what is done on the disc.

Such is the supreme appeal of Jeff Pearce's music. It's a deceptively simple formula: washes of gorgeous ambient guitar sound rolling in and out inexorably, like tidal movement. Recently Pearce has mixed his purely atmospheric work with thematic guitar pieces (as on the very fine Bleed), but for me his strongest style is his mastery of celestial tones and rapturous driftwork. Pearce continually excites with his singularly airy (but never fluffy), sacred sounding, ambient music. This sound is purely his own, and it's clear Pearce spends much time honing his work to communicate pure emotional resonance.

Pearce's most recent ambient work, Summer Solstice, is a marked continuation of the sounds explored on To the Shores of Heaven, and is a much more satisfying follow-up to that excellent album than The Light Beyond. On Summer Solstice, a light, floating sensation fills the listener from the first moments of track one, "The Longest Day." This is the sound of lying back on a grassy hill with sun in eyes. It's hard to decide exactly how Pearce instills a spiritual feeling (and what sort of spiritual feeling it is can also be a source of mystery) in his music, but that feeling is strong and oceanic, as if you have somehow viewed an unchanging truth about the universe--this knowledge is important, but its application is unknowable.

Herein lies the paradox of Pearce's work: you feel that something distinctly spiritual is going on, but you can't put your finger on exactly what, nor can you quite define what you mean by spiritual. This is probably one of the base pleasures of an album like Summer Solstice; you can attribute whatever imagery you like to it. In this way, since I heard Pearce's album Daylight Slowly, I've drawn parallels in his music to the work of artist Michael Whelan. This is an utterly personal connection for me--but I will forever associate Pearce with Whelan's work, and the two make a good pair. In "Life in the Dusk Air" from Summer Solstice it's simple to imagine resting on a rock over a grassy plain watching swooping birds and insects as the sky above slowly kaleidoscopes pink, purple, deep cerulean. This experience is truly universal: in a Pearce composition, we are on Earth; in a Whelan painting, we are on a planet far distant. "With Evening Above" begins uncharacteristically (for this particular Pearce CD) with a chiming guitar melody. Many ambient CDs give the impression of stargazing in moonlight, but this particular track is more melancholy, as if the stars above only serve to remind us how earthed we are. This track would not be out of place on Bleed and makes a nice counterpoint to the soundscaping on the other five tracks. "Star Swimming" is a quiet, shimmering piece with frequent builds and fades of guitar ambience. You are floating on the sea or on the currents of space--either way the limitless surrounds pillow you. "Slow into Morning" quietly ushers in bright radiance with gusty swells of sound, and some slow, sweet e-bow work, bringing this recording to a very satisfying conclusion.

In total, Summer Solstice can function as the aural equivalent of the longest summer day (and night) one can have, packed with warm sun, relaxing tones, and, later, a similarly beautiful night sky. But, as we've seen, Pearce's soundscapes are singularly ambiguous. One can just as easily have a twilit trip across the stars, an idyllic existence amongst the trees of a distant planet, or a drift on some barge across as crystal clear river. Whatever the imagery you choose, you are in good hands with Pearce, who continues to surprise and delight with his assuredly vibrant guitarscapes. No one does ambient quite like Pearce, and it's always a treat to return to the domain he solely inhabits. I've listened to this one regularly since I got it. Essential work by one of neo-ambient's brightest lights.

This CD is available as a self-produced CD-R directly from Jeff Pearce (this was originally sold exclusively at a concert). Pearce can be contacted at pearce@hypnos.com.

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VARIOUS ARTISTS

Texture

Slobor Media (2003)

Compilation discs have proven, in the last decade, to be essential statements of intent in the independent music continuum. They fulfill varied purposes--for example, label samplers and new artist tasters--and often have the added artistic merit of album-length concept explorations by varied musicians. The debut compilation release on CD-R label Slobor Media, Texture possesses all of these qualities with generally impressive results.

One of the strengths of Slobor's artistic ethos is in its focus on design, packaging, and intent of purpose. For me, the strongest parallel is the groundbreaking label design of UK-based 4AD, who, in their eighties heyday, released gorgeous art rock packaged in equally sumptuous art-object sleeves generally executed by Vaughn Oliver/V23. Looking at the stylized Slobor logo, it's hard to deny that the label is seeking a similarly vibrant, unified effect.

Musically, Texture sounds as if the instrumental talents from the original 4AD roster kicked out the other members of their bands in favor of pursuing minimal ambient sounds. Texture is indeed the keyword here, as the artists within choose to, for the most part, eschew the ambiance of classic records like Cocteau Twins' extremely ambient Victorialand in favor of droning, occasionally static, pieces. This music clearly owes more to Zoviet*France than Robin Guthrie.

• First up, we have Jason Sloan (whose impressive Still will be reviewed in the coming weeks), who contributes a wall of sound with a somewhat claustrophobic effect. It's a great tone poem, which would not be out of place on similar works by The Azuza Plane or Windy & Carl.
• Next is Brooks Rongstad, recording as Exuviae, who is unquestionably one of the finest upcoming talents in the neo-ambient/atmospheric genre. This piece is quite similar to the guitar ambience of Christian Fennesz, though without the focus on Gysin-style laptop cutups and with a purely drift-toned atmosphere. Rongstad has been doing uniformly fantastic work lately, and is clearly an artist to watch.
• Jeff Pearce, a recent dynamo of ambience, contributes a more or less typical track, very similar to his work on To the Shores of Heaven. "Typical" for Pearce is still most impressive, as his work is always crafted, radiant, and rapturous. The deserved popularity of Pearce's work is, I believe, due in part to his constant toeing-of-the-line between beautiful soundscaping and interesting, more experimental guitar playing--appealing equally to listeners all along the ambient spectrum.
• Zimiamvian Night contributes "Beltran," a static, quiet piece reminding one of grey open spaces. This is one of the weaker tracks on the compilation, with little other than thin textures to leave in the listener's mind.
• Alan Imberg presents a track resembling a sedate Richard Pinhas, creating a somewhat strained atmosphere, lightened with Imberg's delicate guitarwork.
• Matt Borghi's impressive track "Lansing" utilizes the unlikely sound source of a train yard mixed with particularly affecting guitartones. It's difficult to say this track is menacing; uncertain is a better word, as if one is witnessing an event one cannot quite explain. Needless to say, the effect is fascinating, and one of the highlights of the compilation.
• Numina's (Jesse Sola) track is dominated by Fripp-esque e-bow work that would not be out of place on Fripp's countless Soundscape albums. Like Imberg's track, Numina's piece is rather melodramatic, and not the best work I've heard from him.
• Tony Gerber (of Space for Music Records) and Rob Jenkins contribute a pretty, strummed track not too dissimilar to recent guitar work by Steve Roach. However, the guitar work here is much more accomplished than I've heard from Roach, and contributes to this track's appeal immensely.
• "Distance" by Michael Kirson-Goldapper swells up from nowhere pillowing with foggy Stars of the Lid grace. The liner notes state that Kirson-Goldapper is a "bad, bad man" but this track is some good, good sonic drift. A highlight.
• Anomalous Disturbances' track accomplishes what some other tracks (like the earlier "Beltran") on the compilation do not. The texture of the track is apparent, and yet it seems to drone on with purpose, slowly shifting in interesting ways. This is an intriguing track, which makes me curious to hear the AD full-length.
• Remco Helbers's "Urban Nightshape II" is simply gorgeous; a deep resonant track with a nice low end. I'd not previously heard Helbers and this is truly nice stuff: shimmering and weightless.
• True Colour of Blood (Eric Kesner) weighs in with "Twilight State Dream," an utterly bad-ass piece of ambience. I'd previously described Kirson-Goldapper's work above as similar to Stars of the Lid, and that comparison is also valid here. This cut is spacious, haunting, and my favorite track on the compilation.
• Finally, Markus Reuter's "Miniml" is a tonal exploration of warm soothing tones. Very different from much of the work I've heard from Reuter, this track displays a calm, introspective mood similar to Jeff Pearce's fine work.

In all, Texture accomplishes what it sets out to do, presenting a wide variety of artists all operating with similar instrumentation in a complimentary sonic mood. To some degree, I feel that the concept of "texture" music limits the material on the compilation. Most tracks do not reach beyond the album concept and operate more as a pleasant sensation rather than a lasting experience. It is akin to feeling a piece of velvet--a smooth positive experience, but with no context behind the feeling. That said, there is a lot to like about this compilation--especially the added benefit of an introduction to previously unheard artists. While not essential by any means, I feel that Texture makes a satisfying document of the current state of "guitar ambience" and is a worthy opening salvo from Slobor Media.

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AGLAIA

Three Organic Experiences

Hic Sunt Leones (2003)

Sometimes it seems all too easy to make atmospheric drift music. Your friends tell you, "Hey, you could do this yourself and save a lot of money." Or, as is too often the case, a favorite artist pumps out material with little attention to self-editing--leading you to believe you are privy to every musical move the artist has ever made, for better or worse. There's a lot of ambient music available, and the more you hear, the more confusing it can be to separate what is good, worthwhile work, and what is simple noodling on electronics and synth.<p>

This brings me to Aglaia, an Italian duo previously unknown to me. Their CD Three Organic Experiences appeared on Hic Sunt Leones this year--a label I normally hunt down without question. Two previously unknown artists, purchased because of label loyalty rather than any hint of quality from sound samples. The usual "out there" copy from Hic Sunt Leones. It sounds like a recipe for disappointment.

Instead, what we have is, in my opinion, the finest atmospheric drift album created in 2003. Three Organic Experiences is comprised of three mammoth tracks, all stylistically related but separate compositions. The effect created as a totality is akin to a gradual sinking beneath the sea, floating ever down, to eventually rest on ocean's bottom--surrounded by a beautiful, submerged garden populated by radiant, sea life. Perhaps the strength of this album is how composed it all seems, even though at first listen is appears the tracks meander prettily till their close. However, with repeated listens (in itself a pleasant and welcoming process) one cannot help but notice the forward motion of each track to an eventual, shivers-inducing climax.

"The Mysterious Fish Named Kun" waxes and wanes like tidal movement, embellished with heavily-sustained processed flute, strange underwater noises, lullaby synth, tinkling bells, and rainstick electronic effects. We've dipped into this other ocean, a warm, inviting environment, searching for the mysterious fish. Instead, we find a shimmering world, alien in character, but completely benevolent. This is a slow journey; one has all the time in the world to admire the gradual drifting-by of fantastic organisms, resplendently bright and colorful. In fact, though outwardly this music appears quite static, it is constantly changing, rather like the natural oceans that comprise much of our planet's surface area. This is twenty-three minutes of pure oceanic bliss.

The next track, "The Tribe of the Flying Monkeys" is somewhat more rooted on land. However, the constant undercurrent of rushing water is present, creating an unquestionable relationship with track one. This track has haunting synth overlaid upon deep zither tones and mesmerizing water effects. The processed flute is also here, a welcome, grounding influence along with the plucking of an unknown stringed instrument. The album begins to take a musical travelogue aspect, as if we have come to ancient Earth to admire prehistory in its innocent beauty, before it was manipulated by human hands. The production is lush throughout this CD, creating an even more affecting environment for losing oneself in.

Finally, we are brought to "Seven Ancient Glaciers," the capstone track. Twenty-seven minutes of beautiful muted vocalizations, overtone chant, water effects conjuring images of rivulets flowing from a vast frozen body, beautiful synth atmospheres, rainstick, and gonging windchimes. This is inquestionably the finest track on the album, one of supreme beauty, as if we are viewing the gradual creation of a new world uncovered from giant ice floes. Truly, it is the little details of a track like this, a shaker here, a gonging there, that make this a completely engaging experience. These tiny, well-placed details make for a more satisfying listen--Aglaia have carefully crafted each track to function more like ancient folksongs sung by prehistoric life in a language heretofore forgotten. This is the sound of the Earth before language and science, before man's labeling hands, before even mythological renderings of creation. It is the sound of Earth trilling to itself in an unending, constant now. The immersive effect of this track (and the whole album) is powerful, almost magical.

Aglaia have created a truly rare thing with Three Organic Experiences. We are used to hearing countless good ambient titles from all the usual suspects; even this year we have been treated to four separate CDs by Steve Roach on a similar theme. All of these various titles are, in my opinion, dwarfed by the innocent, spiritual grandeur of Aglaia's work here. This is an album that will reward careful, repeated listens--indeed, this CD demands repeated listens to unlock all of the tiny, myriad treasures it has to offer. I give this truly staggering work my highest recommendation. While 2003 still has some months to go, I will go so far as to write this will occupy the spot, for me, as best ambient atmospheric title of 2003. I don't throw this distinction down lightly. In my opinion, this work is just that good.

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MILES TILMANN

Underland

Sub:marine (2001)

Every once in a while music springs up out of nowhere, completely surprising you, and in the process has you wondering why more people have not heard the artist in question. It doesn't happen often--and it certainly hadn't happened to me in a while--until I heard this, the debut EP by Miles Tilmann.

Underland occupies a precarious position between pure ambient driftwork and post-Warp records listening techno. This is a tough fence to sit upon, but Tilmann maintains poise throughout the ep length. This is perhaps because Tilmann is unafraid to create beatless atmospheres as well as near-techno beatwork, often on the same track. I sense that Tilmann's tastes, though I don't know for sure, are similarly eclectic--certainly increasing the level of musical variety on Underland.

Track one, "Unfold," does just that by beginning with spacious, warm synth that swells deeply. A cavernous feeling pervades as the sounds ebb and flow, decaying softly. Startlingly the kick drum comes in, unfolding this track into a strange hybrid of Basic Channel-style house and shimmering ambient washes. This is a powerful opening statement, which does not let up through the remaining seven tracks. "Letting" has a symphonic air, with synth strings beautifully cascading with a fine attention to space. A sweet, strong minute and twenty seconds. Next, "Underland," allows us to bring in the inevitable Boards of Canada comparison. The beats and buildup of this track very nearly approach the technique of BoC--close enough to operate as pastiche, right down to the vocalizations. Though BoC trailblazed this style, Tilmann carries it off so as to make a track nearly indistinguishable from much on Music Has the Right To Children. Perhaps this is the weakest cut on the EP, due to its necessarily derivative nature--however, weak for Tilmann appears to be very strong indeed. "Warm/Cool" follows as another vignette of shifting ambient tones, altogether pleasant, if not totally memorable. "Sunday" blasts you out of your reverie with an incredible, short, slice of ambient techno. This approaches church-like chilled techno-mysticism, so pretty, measured, and strong. A highlight. Next is "Mother/Father" which could be placed alongside tracks on Aphex Twin's first Ambient Works volume: a sweet melody, great beats, and fine synth ambience. Track seven, "Memory 4" is thus located in the same regions as Aphex Twin's Selected Ambient Works II: chills-inducing synth washes that you wish would last forever. Finally, "Derail" is a bonafide downtempo techno anthem, and unquestionably the best track on the EP. All the tropes are here: melodies, kick-ass beats, muted urban funk, marvelous low end, and head-nodding listenability.

Tilmann's Underland says "Hey, I can do all of the stuff that made you fall in love with Warp-style listening techno and all in the space of an EP! Just wait until you see what I can do on a full length, now that I've gotten all that history out of the way." While not trendsetting by any stretch of the word, Tilmann's ep is one fantastic piece of work, which leaves me slavering for more. This is proof that modern electronic music can recall its past and present it in fresh, vibrant color without resorting to parody or snobbery. This is self-assured, unpretentious work that restores all the faith you had in this type of music in the first place. Let's hope to hear more from Tilmann, and soon.

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