Record Roundup: Electronic Excursions

Elsa Hewitt’s blend of assured song craft and handmade electronic textures put her most recent album, Quilt Jams, on my top 25 records of 2018 (so far), but that’s hardly the only place I’ve been turning to for excursions into the heart of synthetic sound. Here are a few more that are keeping me plugged in.

Good Luck In Death - They Promised Us A Bright Future, We Were Content With An Obscure Past Did you ever pretend to know more than you did about an artist, whether in front of an sneering record store employee or a musical mentor? I can admit that I have, at least in my younger years, tried to appear more in the know than I am. But no longer: I’m going to come right out and say that I did not recognize a single artist in the press packet for this debut from GLID, which is a collaboration between Paul Régimbeau (electronics, analog synths, mixing) and Charbel Haber (electric guitar). The former is apparently also known for his work as Mondkopf in the world of extreme metal and the latter is from Lebanon and a leading light in the “new pan-Arab psychedelia” as well as a member of The Bunny Tylers, Scrambled Eggs and Johnny Kafta’s Anti-Vegetarian Orchestra. Who? What? If I can ever tear myself away from GLID, I might have time to explore all those avenues. 

But for now I will continue to revel in the sleekly textured, deeply immersive sound world created by Régimbeau and Haber. Even without such evocative titles as Fire Dreams And Reveries and Unforgettable Cabaret Nights, the four tracks on They Promised Us... would immediately draw you in. There are no beats to speak of, and it’s possible that most of the work shaping the compositions was done in post-production. But even so, there is a sure narrative drive to each piece. Fire Dreams, for example, begins with a slightly burred drone, over which seemingly random scraping sounds gradually resolve into a pattern that grows smoother and more dimensional over time. A cicada-like whine emerges over the top and it’s like an aerial shot of mountains dropping away into valley as the camera swoops and glides overhead. The cicadas turn into chainsaws - or a barbed-wire string quartet - as drama builds in an imperious manner. The buzzsaws fade into a series of bells, a childlike pattern that settles the matter. 

Hopefully this isn’t just a one-off for Haber and Régimbeau, but if it is I can always track down all their other projects. Either way, the strength and self-contained perfection of this album may just be the catalyst for that bright future to emerge out of their obscure past.

I-VT - BLOC This is another established artist’s side project, in this case Adam Cuthbért of slashsound, the composer collective behind Return, last year’s brilliant album by the New Music Ensemble at Grand Valley State University. Cuthbért’s compatriot Daniel Rhode is here as well, along with other collaborators young and old, including Phong Tran, whose first album Initiate came out last year, and Juma Sultan who played percussion with Hendrix at Woodstock.

In contrast with the pastoral (if sometimes ominous) images conjured up by Good Luck In Death, I-VT puts you in a claustrophobic, urban setting - an abandoned subway station repurposed for an intense party comes to mind. Dance beats come and go, sometimes spare and sometimes brutal, as on TEMPLAR (Viberous Remix), which gives Trent Reznor a run for his money.  Wordless vocals are also put into the mix, which only adds to the evocative, emotional depth of the music. 

Some of what Cuthbért is doing with I-VT is reminiscent of the dawn of electronic pop, like early Mute Records releases, but the difference is that instead of using everything available at the time to make sounds and songs, he’s consciously stripping down and selecting from a vast array of knowledge, both technical and compositional. Whatever the process by which he and his cohort arrived at the final tracks for BLOC, the result is a series of miniature mind movies that I’ve enjoyed watching over and over again. And, in HIPSTER SLUDGE, they’ve surely arrived at one of THE song titles of the year. 

Novelty Daughter - Cocoon Year While Faith Harding's glorious voice and gift for labyrinthine melodies would be compelling in any context, the jewel-like tracks she sings over are usually exclusively synthetic, as on this EP of "six songs about metamorphosis." These range from the bright and bouncy Emily, with one of her best vocals to date, to A Reading From The Crack-Up, which features her treated voice, presumably reading from the F. Scott Fitzgerald essay, over a hazy cloud of sound. O Wonder! uses pings and pongs to assemble a catchy tune, to which she adds a samba-esque rhythm and then sings over it all in a relaxed fashion, a space-age Peggy Lee. Like that iconic singer, Novelty Daughter is a cool customer who uses her reserved nature (as an artist, anyway - her Instagram feed is another thing entirely, and delightfully so) to draw you in as you try to decode her emotional landscape. Even if I never get all the answers, it's a place I like to visit often.

For more plugged-in sounds from 2018, keep up with this playlist - and let me know what I'm missing!

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Outliers, Part 2: Seabuckthorn, David Garland

In Part 1, I covered two albums, one inspired by Greek Tragedy and the other by music history. The two records discussed below have more diffuse antecedents but no less musical impact.

A House With Too Much Fire - Seabuckthorn How vast is the world of music that an artist with this much talent and originality could have flown under my radar for so long? For this is the ninth release by Andy Cartwright under the name Seabuckthorn, which, as I have now learned, is a common shrub known for its nutrient-rich berries. Cartwright’s main instrument is the guitar and he usually plays 12-string acoustic or resonator guitars, often applying a violin bow to create drones. On A House... he has added banjo, clarinet, synthesizer and percussion to the sonic landscape, all of which he deploys with restraint and to great atmospheric effect. I have a lot of catching up to do but as far as I can tell, this is his most sophisticated and varied album thus far.

While there are still echoes of the American Primitive school of guitar, Cartwright is more interested in texture now. He rarely calls attention to his virtuosity in these 10 tracks, which are built up from layers of improvised parts and loops. Submerged Past, for example, starts with a finger-picked pattern that’s soon joined by spidery chords left hanging in the background before morphing into a stately ostinato, around which Cartwright develops more layers of picked and strummed elements with occasional strikes on the bell of a cymbal for emphasis. Gorgeous stuff. The spookier side of Daniel Lanois might be a touchpoint here, along with Ennio Morricone, Popol Vuh and even Tuareg desert blues. But Seabuckthorn really sounds like no one else and I hope this album draws more attention to his rich, organic sound world. A House With Too Much Fire comes out on June 1st - preorder it here. Cartwright lives in the Southern Alps but there is the possibility of New York City performance in the near future. Based on this video from March, I want to be there - how about you?

Verdancy - David Garland Starting in 1987, David Garland hosted Spinning On Air as a radio show on WNYC, quickly becoming a fixture on the airwaves and in the culture of New York City. His eclecticism, depth of knowledge and sheer love of music and creativity made it a must listen and often an unforgettable one. While WNYC cancelled the show in 2015, I'm delighted to report that Garland has revived it as a podcast and, based on the episodes I've heard, he has lost none of his curiosity or eloquence - subscribe here.

Over the years Garland has also been putting out his own music, featuring his wry vocals and sounds as much influenced by folk and rock as by classical music of all centuries. Verdancy,  which came out in March, is his first release in four years and may be his most ambitious project yet. It's essentially four albums worth of music, much of it performed by Garland alone on a daunting number of instruments. There are some intriguing collaborators including Iva Bittová (vocals, violin), Kyle Gann (piano), and Yoko Ono. Garland also handled all the technical aspects of recording, production, mixing and mastering. The artwork is his as well, with design by his wife, Anne Garland. Even if the music wasn't as wonderful as it is, Verdancy would be a landmark effort and an inspiration to independent creative people everywhere.

A central feature of the sound across the 27 tracks is an acoustic guitar modified with electronics by Garland's son Kenji. Apparently Sean Lennon is a fan as Garland borrowed one from him to record Verdancy. The hybrid instrument is "genuinely electro-acoustic" and provides washes of tonally rich chords for Garland to build on with the other instruments, often clarinet, which he plays beautifully. Part of the emotional well Garland draws on here is his move a few years ago out of NYC to the Hudson Valley, giving him an opportunity to commune with the natural world. Many of the songs do have an organic feel, seeming to grow from a kernel of an idea into something elaborate and deeply involving.

There are many highlights throughout the four albums, two of which arose out of collaborations across time. Color Piece, the first song, uses words from a 1964 poem by Ono, which Garland sings over a stately melody in a warmly meditative introduction to the world of Verdancy. Later on, there's Monteverdi's Lamento della Ninfa (The Nymph's Lament), based on a 15th century madrigal, which adapts surprisingly well to Garland's approach. Traveling Doors, a lovely piece for piano, clarinet and electronics, is another perfect point of entry. I could describe more of the beauties that await you but prefer you to discover them for yourself. I will say that out of all the songs here, Dear Golden Deer is the only one I would rather not revisit, as it pushes my personal tolerance for slide whistle past the breaking point. It might be your favorite track - don't let me stop you.

I can't encourage you enough to add David Garland's many virtues to your listening repertoire, whether through the riches of Verdancy or the ongoing inquiry of Spinning On Air. I would suggest both!

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Tristan Perich’s Divine Violins

A concert doesn’t have to take place in an awe-inspiring setting like the Cathedral Of St. John The Divine to take on a sense of the sacred or ceremonial. But it’s impossible not to feel the weight of occasion when entering one of the world’s largest Gothic churches, even if it remains unfinished 125 years after the first cornerstone was laid. Yet as I walked through the cavernous space on May 9th for the world premiere of Tristan Perich’s Drift Multiply for 50 violins and 50 1-bit speakers I felt sure his work would rise to meet the expectations engendered by the space. 

The concert was part of Red Bull Music Festival, a three-week, city-wide festival of impressive scope. As much as I appreciate what Red Bull is doing, even this lifelong atheist couldn’t help thinking it was slightly incongruous to see coolers of their products for sale in a house of worship. After a moment I decided to embrace the dissonance even if I didn’t want to grab a drink. The last time I was here for a concert was back in 1981, as part of the Kool Jazz Festival - and I don't remember them selling cigarettes! 

The performers back then were jazz drumming legend Max Roach and his percussion ensemble M’Boom, who were joining forces with the World Saxophone Quartet. My recollection is that we were sitting even further from the stage than the anyone would be tonight and that the multiple drums created what felt like enormous cubes of sound that tumbled through the air before hitting the wall behind us and rolling forward again, chased by the white lightning of the four saxophones. It was intense, to say the least. 

Now, the stage was surrounded on three sides by seating and itself covered with the 50 seats needed for Perich’s piece, each with an attendant music stand and another small rod holding a four-inch speaker. Many of the chairs facing the front were taken already so I sat down in the first row at the south side of the stage. I recognized that sitting out of the path of the reverberations would be a different experience, yet still valid or they wouldn’t have put seats there. Perich, known for his One-Bit Symphony and other sonic explorations, is enough of an expert that I felt I would be in good hands no matter what vantage point I had. Also, even 50 violins wouldn’t create the bone-rattling racket of Max Roach & Co., so there would just be less air moving around to begin with. 

Before Perich’s piece was another world premiere by Lesley Flanigan of her own Subtonalities for voice and electronics. She sat at a table with a mic and a few pieces of equipment, which she used to dial in oscillating throbs or to loop her extraordinarily pure soprano - exactly the kind of voice you would expect in this space. I discerned sections - at least four, maybe five - in Subtonalities, a sense of structure that pulled me through. There were echoes of Popol Vuh and Fripp & Eno among the lush textures, her multitracked voice spiraling up towards the ceiling. If the piece felt a little long, that’s most likely due to my anticipation for Perich’s music. I can easily imagine losing myself in Flanigan’s textures in another context without giving a thought to length. I hope I will have that opportunity soon. 

Lesley Flanigan performing Subtonalities

There was a brief intermission and then the 50 violinists took the stage with astonishing ease - they must have practiced! - joined by Doug Perkins, the founder of So Percussion, who would conduct. He raised his baton...and they were off. I was instantly captivated, not only by the sounds, which displayed a high level of invention throughout, but also by observing the cross-section of players arrayed before me. Each one had a slightly different way of holding their instrument and bow and it was also fun to watch what an individual player was doing and try to pick out their contribution to the landscape. There were sections of nearly austere minimalism, with many violinists seeming to play similar figures, while others had an epic sweep, with players making big gestures and the electronics responding with starlit sparkle. 

A fraction of the 50 violinists for Drift Multiply

The entire length of Drift Multiply felt so assured and with frequent moments of sheer wonder that it’s hard to believe this is the first time anyone has ever used this configuration. I’m sure some of that solidity was due to Perkins’s expert time-keeping, a task in which he was aided by digital counters sprinkled through the orchestra. Even though the piece was substantial, I never felt that Perich had used up every last idea. Nor did it ever feel like a stunt. While there is certainly an element of performance or installation art, the whole thing was deeply musical and I hope that logistics don’t get in the way of future performances. There was a video crew and likely audio recording being done as well so I would keep an eye on the Red Bull website to see if they make it available for you to experience at home. Drift Multiply is a triumph of imagination and execution that may just give your living room, or wherever you listen, a touch of the divine. 

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