alrealon musique – frequencies of existence compilation – part 3

And so we return to Alrealon Musique for the third and final part of that epic celebratory set ‘frequencies of existence – 5 years of Alrealon Musique’. Again another collection of aural adventures featuring a 8 strong gathering of strange suites pulled from the distant edges of pop’s ever expanding universe. Again the formula as ever is simple with the collection drawing from a familiar to not so familiar pool of talents tinkering around the edges of drone, industrial, weird electronica and aural abstracts. For a label who pride themselves on offering safe haven for an ever expanding musicians collective defiantly at odds with easy categorization, the musical equivalent I guess of square pegs in round holes, its safe to say that no one and no work admirably fits this remit quite like the sonic collages cooked up by Brandstifter. Last appearing in these pages courtesy of an excerpt we picked up from his tour collaboration journal shared with PAS Musique entitled ’lost and found in Europe’, Branstifter occupies a genre bending dark star hermetically sealed or so it would appear from influence or contamination from his peers. ’RGE loops for Yoko (down)’ is a curiously reality altering trip, what first appears like some mind wiping dream machine could likewise be viewed as a euphoric congregation of chiming cathedral bells in bliss kissed jubilant rapture, the point being all is not what you think you first hear, repeat exposure of course opens the notion of something sinister lurking which while sharing space with Sonic Boom’s EAR a subtle cautionary difference becomes apparent in so much as where Boom’s radiophonic experiments are pure electronic noise all bleakly binary and machine coded, this on the other hand is the technological equivalent of big brother observing, recording and assimilating a hum drum daily life. Stranger still and so far left field its in danger of falling off the map, Anthony Donovan here stepping aside from his Murmurist alter ego whose ‘I cannot tell where I am until I love’ an excerpt from therein I seem to recall mentioning briefly in despatches with fond anticipation of hearing more. ‘07_elements’ may well be the most disquieting thing showcased here, a filmic collage replete with commentary and narrative threaded through by insectoid shivers, weird wind montages and darkly woven noir classicist timbres whose reference markers skirt the abstract palettes of Moondog and Stockhausen, not I hasten to add easy listening by any stretch of the imagination. PAS Musique – mentioned in passing a second or so ago cosy up with Chester Hawkins for ‘sleep the storm’ – Mr Hawkins of course you should be all to familiar with given his current ‘semisolids’ set reviewed in earlier dispatches has been wowing and indeed hogging our hi-fi since arriving here. On this occasion their pairing mite crafts out a deeply psychotropic slice of cosmicalia that’s very much designed on the classic early 70’s krautrock chassis though spliced with a cinematic sense of occasion and dimpled in all manner of celestial forbearance as though aboard a Vangelis piloted hyper craft voyaging beyond the realms of the universe and heading deep into the next life. Similarly grizzled in apocalyptic wastelands and dark drone is the previously unknown to us tashkentique’s oblique doom drilled macabre mantra that is ‘yishki-leibo’ – veering precariously into the micro verses of Roadside Picnic and Wizards Tell Lies not to mention straying close to the edges of gnod networks extended family as found on their cassette sub imprint tesla tapes, there’s a morbid sense of defeat and dread permeating heavily amid these grooves, its slavish industrial coiling and skree frosted submersion extinguishes light and hope from the proceedings in an apocalyptic existence shredding plight of servitude. Much admired around these parts Fluid’s ’XII’ is by his usual standard playful and light, a progressive ambient dream coat refined, purred and poised in the demurring starry eyed cosmic curvatures of a beguiled Tangerine Dream mosaic wherein at each turn the textures, depth and density appear ever more sharply focused detailed and defined. Another of whom we hold our hands high in saying we were until now previously unaware is Margitt Holtz whose ’entschuldigung’ really is a most curious listening experience which ought to appeal first port of call to admirers of those drilled holed sleeves bearing the early entries to Fat Cat’s legendary split series from many years back, elements of Janek Schaefer, pan-american, pimmon and fonn emerge, form, dissipate and dissolve amid this delightfully skewed and distracting mutant glitch grooved carousel as it speed dials through the radio frequencies sucking in whatever life signs it trips across. You know instinctively that a pairing of Philippe Petit and John 3:16 has the potential to translate into something truly special, both are blessed with that rare sense panoramic vision, in Petit’s case the lighter tonalities and appreciation for lush classicist structures and John 3:16 informed by dark detailing and a more Spartan though none the less alluring application. And so with ’lethe’ the expectation blossoms into full flowering view, in essence a genteel and lulling melodic mirage albeit slyly bruised that imagines the willowy gaseous heat hazes rising and falling on distant sun bleached horizons replete with milky mosaics of lilting snake winding riff codas and arcing arpeggios that purr it with an expansive dream drifted majestic aura that pretty much ushers into the domains of a thoughtful Roy Montgomery and Yellow6. Depressingly bleak a title as it might first appear the teasingly brief ‘death is nothing to us’ by the Whip Angels is a seductive glacial transmission from the heavens delicately dimpled in a sepia braiding sweetly haloed in playful lunar skips all of which makes us desperate to hear more.–alrn038-part-3

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