The oversized fold-out sleeve of Air Resort displays a breathtaking vista of snow-capped mountains: a hint of things to come, perhaps, for Soundscaping Records. One hopes that this inaugural label release might establish a visual template along the lines of early Touch or Apestaartje releases. And yet, while the cover image is cold in nature, the music inside is not, unless by “cold” one means “electronic.” Instead, Air Resort is a study in ambient warmth, the finest of Bailleau’s four releases to date.
The keys to Bailleau’s success are development and limited repetition. The average track length is eight minutes, and Bailleau takes his time with each, trusting that his listeners will remain with him throughout. This allows him to exercise remarkable restraint: on “Meli-melo”, he waits five minutes before introducing the guitar, which ambles along, Mountains-like, before fading into a gentle spring of electronics. “Silence Cadeau” waits even longer, changing timbre completely in the final minute. Bailleau seems to know just how far he can push a pattern before offering a subtle tweak or offsetting it with a counter-abstraction: a bubble, a gurgle, a drone, a bell. In other words, each track must be heard in full before its overall blueprint can be seen.
Mark Templeton lends his guitar to “Small village on the hill”, a tranquil piece of increasing density, which melts in its final minute to a tiny acoustic puddle. And laptop maestro Sebastian Roux contributes “sound” (could you be any less specific?) to “Jet e laisse des messages sur ton decodeur". It’s nice to have friends like these, but it’s even nicer to know that one is capable of creating compelling tracks without them. One such track, “Yoshi Island”, is the album’s highlight, a thick mélange of sprightly, chime-like notes and upper-key drones that cleave to each other like mating dragonflies. The “main theme” may only occupy center stage for a minute, but it rests comfortably in the mind like baby birds in a nest. Like most of Bailleau’s compositions, this track takes a while to be fully comprehended; repeated listens reveal layers that are not apparent upon first contact.
On Air Resort, Bailleau splits the difference between form and abstraction, between ambience and active listening. There’s enough repetition to hook a listener, but not enough to make one turn away. The notes are too insistent to exist as background music, and yet not aggressive enough to conquer the foreground. By taking the “middle way,” Bailleau has created an album that retains its beguiling nature no matter how often it is played. Congratulations to Christophe for surpassing his former achievements, and to the Soundscape label for starting off so strong.
The keys to Bailleau’s success are development and limited repetition. The average track length is eight minutes, and Bailleau takes his time with each, trusting that his listeners will remain with him throughout. This allows him to exercise remarkable restraint: on “Meli-melo”, he waits five minutes before introducing the guitar, which ambles along, Mountains-like, before fading into a gentle spring of electronics. “Silence Cadeau” waits even longer, changing timbre completely in the final minute. Bailleau seems to know just how far he can push a pattern before offering a subtle tweak or offsetting it with a counter-abstraction: a bubble, a gurgle, a drone, a bell. In other words, each track must be heard in full before its overall blueprint can be seen.
Mark Templeton lends his guitar to “Small village on the hill”, a tranquil piece of increasing density, which melts in its final minute to a tiny acoustic puddle. And laptop maestro Sebastian Roux contributes “sound” (could you be any less specific?) to “Jet e laisse des messages sur ton decodeur". It’s nice to have friends like these, but it’s even nicer to know that one is capable of creating compelling tracks without them. One such track, “Yoshi Island”, is the album’s highlight, a thick mélange of sprightly, chime-like notes and upper-key drones that cleave to each other like mating dragonflies. The “main theme” may only occupy center stage for a minute, but it rests comfortably in the mind like baby birds in a nest. Like most of Bailleau’s compositions, this track takes a while to be fully comprehended; repeated listens reveal layers that are not apparent upon first contact.
On Air Resort, Bailleau splits the difference between form and abstraction, between ambience and active listening. There’s enough repetition to hook a listener, but not enough to make one turn away. The notes are too insistent to exist as background music, and yet not aggressive enough to conquer the foreground. By taking the “middle way,” Bailleau has created an album that retains its beguiling nature no matter how often it is played. Congratulations to Christophe for surpassing his former achievements, and to the Soundscape label for starting off so strong.
by Richard Allen at The Silent Ballet (US)
"Air Resort" –which comes in beautiful designed, large-size digipack format- is the first album of the Norwegian label Soundscaping Records.
The music is composed by the Belgium-based (but from French origin) multimedia artist Christophe Bailleau, who is joined by Mark Templeton (on guitar) and Sebastien Roux (manipulated sounds) on two tracks.
The dreamy and minimal sonic content of the 53-minute "Air Resort", for which Christoph basically used a laptop, guitar and field recordings, has a lush and spacious character, although some abstract and experimental elements occasionally shimmer through the organic flavoured sound spectrum as well.
The gradually evolving nature of the seven shape shifting, mellow textural pieces and slightly distorted, crispy sounds and effects is a peculiar combination, which may not be as appreciative at first listen.
On the other hand, when one has a close listen to these quiet, slowly building and cascading sonic miniatures, one will discovered a world of imaginative wonder in the recurring themes explored here.
Personally, I consider "Silence Cadeau" as a pinnacle on the album, and the sixth track "Je te laisse des messages sur ton decodeur" as the most abstract, experimental outing.
All in all, "Air Resort" is a recording suitable for more experienced and adventurous ambient listeners.
The music is composed by the Belgium-based (but from French origin) multimedia artist Christophe Bailleau, who is joined by Mark Templeton (on guitar) and Sebastien Roux (manipulated sounds) on two tracks.
The dreamy and minimal sonic content of the 53-minute "Air Resort", for which Christoph basically used a laptop, guitar and field recordings, has a lush and spacious character, although some abstract and experimental elements occasionally shimmer through the organic flavoured sound spectrum as well.
The gradually evolving nature of the seven shape shifting, mellow textural pieces and slightly distorted, crispy sounds and effects is a peculiar combination, which may not be as appreciative at first listen.
On the other hand, when one has a close listen to these quiet, slowly building and cascading sonic miniatures, one will discovered a world of imaginative wonder in the recurring themes explored here.
Personally, I consider "Silence Cadeau" as a pinnacle on the album, and the sixth track "Je te laisse des messages sur ton decodeur" as the most abstract, experimental outing.
All in all, "Air Resort" is a recording suitable for more experienced and adventurous ambient listeners.
by Bert Strolenberg at Sonic Immersion (NL)
Now that the radio show on Resonance FM has ummed and erred its way to its summer break, now that my catch up on The Wire has ripped and ran all the way to the season 5 finale, and especially since the dizzying excitement of the World Snooker Championships has clicked and coughed itself to an end, I find myself with huge gaping holes in my evening schedule. All the better for me to catch up with the phenomenal pile of records that have been mounting up on my shelves over the last couple of months. I’m hoping that amongst their depths I’ll unearth some more treasure of the same quality as this release by Christophe Bailleau on the new Soundscaping label.
Christophe Bailleau is a Frenchman living in Belgium who, despite a seemingly lengthy discography and list of collaborators, hasn’t come to my attention before now. Air Resort certainly comes in an attention-grabbing package, larger than your average, with a lovely aerial photograph of mountains on the cover. What is inside is even better: an hour of the most immaculate-sounding and impression-making ambient electronic compositions, successfully combining electronic and acoustic instrumentation with field recordings. Contrast is key: opening track “Yoshi Island” (do I detect an obsession with Super Mario Galaxy? I never did finish that, perhaps I should give it another…no, stay focused on he records) chimes and chirples glitchily through sections of more menacing organ drones, while “Meli-Melo” floats woozily over a sea of crackly bass tones, dreaming blissfully of acoustic guitar. If it was reminding me a little of the work of Mark Templeton at this point, that may have been partly because I spotted him being credited in the liner notes. The darker “Je Te Laisse Des Messages” is much more in the style of Endless Summer-era Fennesz, big granulated drones lapping at the feet of digital melody. Rhythms are typically alluded to rather than enunciated, with the squelchy little patterns of “Praw Nii” and the morse-code-beamed-from-space of closing track “Coloriiage” being the contrasting examples.
Clear a space in your diary, go spend some time at Air Resort. Get there via the Soundscaping label. Also visit them for a copy of the Pjusk remix of Air Resort.
Christophe Bailleau is a Frenchman living in Belgium who, despite a seemingly lengthy discography and list of collaborators, hasn’t come to my attention before now. Air Resort certainly comes in an attention-grabbing package, larger than your average, with a lovely aerial photograph of mountains on the cover. What is inside is even better: an hour of the most immaculate-sounding and impression-making ambient electronic compositions, successfully combining electronic and acoustic instrumentation with field recordings. Contrast is key: opening track “Yoshi Island” (do I detect an obsession with Super Mario Galaxy? I never did finish that, perhaps I should give it another…no, stay focused on he records) chimes and chirples glitchily through sections of more menacing organ drones, while “Meli-Melo” floats woozily over a sea of crackly bass tones, dreaming blissfully of acoustic guitar. If it was reminding me a little of the work of Mark Templeton at this point, that may have been partly because I spotted him being credited in the liner notes. The darker “Je Te Laisse Des Messages” is much more in the style of Endless Summer-era Fennesz, big granulated drones lapping at the feet of digital melody. Rhythms are typically alluded to rather than enunciated, with the squelchy little patterns of “Praw Nii” and the morse-code-beamed-from-space of closing track “Coloriiage” being the contrasting examples.
Clear a space in your diary, go spend some time at Air Resort. Get there via the Soundscaping label. Also visit them for a copy of the Pjusk remix of Air Resort.
by Scott McMillan at Mapsadaisical (UK)
Having been a member of various rock formations in the nineties, French-born, Belgium-based multimedia artist Christophe Bailleau began releasing music under his own name in 2003, and has since, collaborated with artists as diverse as Sebastien Roux, Won or Neal Williams. Beside his musical activities, he also directs short films and creates audiovisual installations for a wide range of events and locations.
The inaugural release from Norwegian imprint Soundscaping Records, Air Resort, Bailleau’s fourth solo album, is a beautiful collection of atmospheric music where sounds form in exquisite fluid sequences, each totally self-contained, yet is connected, often in subtle way, to the others, ensuring a consistent mood throughout the seven tracks presented here. The album opens with the shimmering Yoshi Island, with its delicate bell-like tones, constantly revolving loops and cloudy backdrop, which slowly develop to incorporate more treated sounds as the piece progresses, and accentuate its hypnotic effect. This principle is applied repeatedly throughout the album, each time in a different way. Meli-Melo, which follows, is a much darker and more introspective composition which relies, in its first half, on denser sounds, which are pretty constantly poked with electronics to give the overall piece a more textured aspect. In its second half, the mood lifts slightly as an acoustic guitar comes forward, but it soon disappears again, swallowed by an opaque sonic cloud.
While the album never falls into such dark territory again, closing piece Coloriiage opens on a somewhat thick sonic fog, but as the piece progresses, light shades slowly burn through the heavy ceiling to reveal magnificent pastoral formations toward the end. Elsewhere, Bailleau offers much more evocative moments, especially on the superb Silence Cadeau, which, after a seemingly almost static phase, gathers rich textures and tones, or Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Décodeur, a composition recorded with Sebastien Roux. The pair create a superb evolving structure, tirelessly bringing gritty components to add relief and definition. Small Village On The Hill appears to draw some elements from the cyclic electronic forms pioneered in early Krautrock experiments, but, instead of channelling the album into a radically different terrain, Bailleau keeps them deep into the mix, leaving them to pulse weakly in the background. The process is repeated on the short Praw Nii, but here, the electronics are more obvious and, at one point, reinforced with a distant beat.
Air Resort is nothing short of a masterpiece, its stunning evocative soundscapes finely detailed and assembled into pieces which, while appearing gentle and understated, are in fact complex and ambitious organic jigsaws. Working from a wide spectrum of sources, Christophe Bailleau never ceases to amaze here, as he creates some of the most fascinating atmospheric music heard for some time.
4.8/5
The inaugural release from Norwegian imprint Soundscaping Records, Air Resort, Bailleau’s fourth solo album, is a beautiful collection of atmospheric music where sounds form in exquisite fluid sequences, each totally self-contained, yet is connected, often in subtle way, to the others, ensuring a consistent mood throughout the seven tracks presented here. The album opens with the shimmering Yoshi Island, with its delicate bell-like tones, constantly revolving loops and cloudy backdrop, which slowly develop to incorporate more treated sounds as the piece progresses, and accentuate its hypnotic effect. This principle is applied repeatedly throughout the album, each time in a different way. Meli-Melo, which follows, is a much darker and more introspective composition which relies, in its first half, on denser sounds, which are pretty constantly poked with electronics to give the overall piece a more textured aspect. In its second half, the mood lifts slightly as an acoustic guitar comes forward, but it soon disappears again, swallowed by an opaque sonic cloud.
While the album never falls into such dark territory again, closing piece Coloriiage opens on a somewhat thick sonic fog, but as the piece progresses, light shades slowly burn through the heavy ceiling to reveal magnificent pastoral formations toward the end. Elsewhere, Bailleau offers much more evocative moments, especially on the superb Silence Cadeau, which, after a seemingly almost static phase, gathers rich textures and tones, or Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Décodeur, a composition recorded with Sebastien Roux. The pair create a superb evolving structure, tirelessly bringing gritty components to add relief and definition. Small Village On The Hill appears to draw some elements from the cyclic electronic forms pioneered in early Krautrock experiments, but, instead of channelling the album into a radically different terrain, Bailleau keeps them deep into the mix, leaving them to pulse weakly in the background. The process is repeated on the short Praw Nii, but here, the electronics are more obvious and, at one point, reinforced with a distant beat.
Air Resort is nothing short of a masterpiece, its stunning evocative soundscapes finely detailed and assembled into pieces which, while appearing gentle and understated, are in fact complex and ambitious organic jigsaws. Working from a wide spectrum of sources, Christophe Bailleau never ceases to amaze here, as he creates some of the most fascinating atmospheric music heard for some time.
4.8/5
by Bruno Lasnier at The Milk Factory (UK)
Airborne
Not elevator music, but airplane music. Frenchman Bailleau inaugurates a new Norwegian label in a beautiful manner.
Then we may welcome a new, Norwegian record label. Nothing pleases us more. Soundscaping has prior to this existed as a web zine, but now takes another step further with Soundscaping Records. First release looks very promising, and even more so given the tasteful format and packaging they have granted their release. This features the French multimedial artist Christophe Bailleau and his Air Resort, a piece of music fully deserving of such delicate garments.
Bailleau has previously been presented here at groove, then also under Norwegian banner: On Soft Mountains We Work Magic was a collaboration project with singer-songwriter Neal Williams, released on Fenêtre. Bailleau has also visited Oslo a couple of times, among other things for concerts at Sound of Mu.
Christophe Bailleau operates within dreaming, texture-based sounds, produced by guitar, laptop and field recordings, in a way as depicted by the cover sleeve. This is music that belongs to higher altitudes in all its lofty glory, but enough down-to-earth that we can peruse the landscape below. Plucked guitar chords, synths in waves, swirling, clucking noises, ringing bells, shrill ringing - all bound together with a patient security and open mind. To really repeat myself, the description of Bailleau's previous album may still be used to characterise his music as "inviting and warm, with elements of the familiar, melodic and the more abstract and dreamy".
There are several very lovely moments here, not at least the transgression between namely the acoustic (guitar) and the electronic (laptop). This accounts for both Meli-Melo and Small Village on a Hill, that fades out with Mark Templetons fine guitar after a nearly frenetic build-up. It should also be mentioned that Sébastien Roux contributes with sounds on Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Decodéur, a 10-minute where the two musicians dig deep down in materia. More speaking in Bailleau's favour is the willingness to not necessarily take the easiest path, his journeys in sound requires an active and approaching listener. Christophe Bailleau is personal in his line of business, but operates in a genre of very tiny nuances, and as such it is not easy to discern something to make him stand out from his similar peers.
But Air Resort will be packed away for the next long-haul flight.
Not elevator music, but airplane music. Frenchman Bailleau inaugurates a new Norwegian label in a beautiful manner.
Then we may welcome a new, Norwegian record label. Nothing pleases us more. Soundscaping has prior to this existed as a web zine, but now takes another step further with Soundscaping Records. First release looks very promising, and even more so given the tasteful format and packaging they have granted their release. This features the French multimedial artist Christophe Bailleau and his Air Resort, a piece of music fully deserving of such delicate garments.
Bailleau has previously been presented here at groove, then also under Norwegian banner: On Soft Mountains We Work Magic was a collaboration project with singer-songwriter Neal Williams, released on Fenêtre. Bailleau has also visited Oslo a couple of times, among other things for concerts at Sound of Mu.
Christophe Bailleau operates within dreaming, texture-based sounds, produced by guitar, laptop and field recordings, in a way as depicted by the cover sleeve. This is music that belongs to higher altitudes in all its lofty glory, but enough down-to-earth that we can peruse the landscape below. Plucked guitar chords, synths in waves, swirling, clucking noises, ringing bells, shrill ringing - all bound together with a patient security and open mind. To really repeat myself, the description of Bailleau's previous album may still be used to characterise his music as "inviting and warm, with elements of the familiar, melodic and the more abstract and dreamy".
There are several very lovely moments here, not at least the transgression between namely the acoustic (guitar) and the electronic (laptop). This accounts for both Meli-Melo and Small Village on a Hill, that fades out with Mark Templetons fine guitar after a nearly frenetic build-up. It should also be mentioned that Sébastien Roux contributes with sounds on Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Decodéur, a 10-minute where the two musicians dig deep down in materia. More speaking in Bailleau's favour is the willingness to not necessarily take the easiest path, his journeys in sound requires an active and approaching listener. Christophe Bailleau is personal in his line of business, but operates in a genre of very tiny nuances, and as such it is not easy to discern something to make him stand out from his similar peers.
But Air Resort will be packed away for the next long-haul flight.
by Bjørn Hammershaug at Groove (NO)
Following upon 2008's On Soft Mountains We Work Magic, a collaboration with Neal Williams issued on Fenêtre Records, Christophe Bailleau inaugurates the Soundscaping Records label in fine style with his solo effort Air Resort. The release is comprised of fifty-three minutes of shimmering tapestries and dreamlike soundscapes that overflow with kaleidoscopic detail generated by Bailleau using laptop, guitar, and field recordings. It's not an entirely solo undertaking, however, as Sebastién Roux is welcomed aboard for “Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Décodeur” where the two weave a multitude of colourful textures into a churning mass. Mark Templeton also makes an appearance, with his delicate guitar playing lending calm to the sweeping and turbulent electronic streams of “ Small Village on the Hill.”
Each piece is a self-contained marvel of individuating character. “Yoshi's Island ,” for example, teems with Glass-like organ patterns, music box filigrees, and field recording exotica that make you feel as if you're hovering over the island, yet still close enough to witness the brilliant colour of the landscape and the bustle of human activity below. “Meli-melo” is rather combustible by comparison, as Bailleau merges humming tones, snare spatters, and billowing synth vapours with sparkling guitar strums that, halfway through, help naturalize the piece. Organ tones shudder and shimmer in a secret pond during the peaceful “Silence Cadeau” while “Coloriiage” resonates with waves of shimmer. The excellence of Bailleau's recording is matched by its presentation, with Air Resort packaged in a distinctively-designed, large-format case that displays a striking, wrap-around photograph of snow-covered mountains taken by Trym Asserson.
Each piece is a self-contained marvel of individuating character. “Yoshi's Island ,” for example, teems with Glass-like organ patterns, music box filigrees, and field recording exotica that make you feel as if you're hovering over the island, yet still close enough to witness the brilliant colour of the landscape and the bustle of human activity below. “Meli-melo” is rather combustible by comparison, as Bailleau merges humming tones, snare spatters, and billowing synth vapours with sparkling guitar strums that, halfway through, help naturalize the piece. Organ tones shudder and shimmer in a secret pond during the peaceful “Silence Cadeau” while “Coloriiage” resonates with waves of shimmer. The excellence of Bailleau's recording is matched by its presentation, with Air Resort packaged in a distinctively-designed, large-format case that displays a striking, wrap-around photograph of snow-covered mountains taken by Trym Asserson.
by Textura (CAN)
Inaugurating a label with a release is an interesting act in itself, which is what Christophe Bailleau, French Multi-disciplinary artist residing in Belgium, has succeeded in doing with Air Resort on Norwegian Soundscaping. In stage terms it is a hard act to follow or perhaps it sets up the direction, tone and standards of Soundscaping’s curatorial approach.
Air resort shimmers in a high register of recurring themes played out on minimal glistening strings, mostly guitar, syth washes of flowing and warbling tone and effect laden palate. Yoshi Island, built around an insistent gleam, repeat and cycle of a tonal sample with effects, brimming in and out of the foreground while synth waves fill the tapestry. Bailleau moves the tone to a minimal tinkling brightness only to interweave it back, dissolving the tone to abstraction and reintroducing it at a quieter pace to exit. Silence Cadeau, reverberates to a similar manner introducing quiet trickling electronic moments, majestic organesque tonal sequences and spatial effect laden moments.
In the center resides collaboration with Canadian Mark Templeton in Small Village on the Hill. Romping pattered purr underplayed by high tonal wavering constancy and layers of sound pastiche approaching, overwhelming and receding back to central theme, eventually moving to a quiet ending guitar and effects overlay. There is also a collaboration with Sebastien Roux , Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Décodedeur, that is more densely packed with sound shards and experimental play to the point of description free abstraction suitable to the elevated experimental view.
Christophe Bailleau highly abstracted and dense experimental form here distinct from 2008’s acoustic vocal experimental collabration On Soft Mountains We weave Magic, while remaining high plains orientated, pinnacle sonic experience as sound palate.
Air resort shimmers in a high register of recurring themes played out on minimal glistening strings, mostly guitar, syth washes of flowing and warbling tone and effect laden palate. Yoshi Island, built around an insistent gleam, repeat and cycle of a tonal sample with effects, brimming in and out of the foreground while synth waves fill the tapestry. Bailleau moves the tone to a minimal tinkling brightness only to interweave it back, dissolving the tone to abstraction and reintroducing it at a quieter pace to exit. Silence Cadeau, reverberates to a similar manner introducing quiet trickling electronic moments, majestic organesque tonal sequences and spatial effect laden moments.
In the center resides collaboration with Canadian Mark Templeton in Small Village on the Hill. Romping pattered purr underplayed by high tonal wavering constancy and layers of sound pastiche approaching, overwhelming and receding back to central theme, eventually moving to a quiet ending guitar and effects overlay. There is also a collaboration with Sebastien Roux , Je Te Laisse Des Messages Sur Ton Décodedeur, that is more densely packed with sound shards and experimental play to the point of description free abstraction suitable to the elevated experimental view.
Christophe Bailleau highly abstracted and dense experimental form here distinct from 2008’s acoustic vocal experimental collabration On Soft Mountains We weave Magic, while remaining high plains orientated, pinnacle sonic experience as sound palate.
by Innerversitysound at Cyclic Defrost (AUS)
A Norman Records recommendation (9th February 2009)
This record left our Ant feeling happy.
Got some most pleasant tunage for maximum chilling from Christophe Bailleau with his "Air Resort" CD. Both the title and the aerial photograph of a snowy mountain range suggest floating above the earth looking down and thats the effect the music has on me. The sounds are ever so pretty on the opening track with delicate bell chimes and lots of mellow ambient tones. The first time I heard this my ears pricked up and on this second listening session I can confirm that this is gorgeous stuff. The artist builds up vivid soundscapes with lots of detailed layers, hum, static sounds, glitches, synths. There are hints of Philip Glass and Eno in there as well as the more ambient ends of the Touch and Kranky rosters. Definitely a cool one to bliss out to late at night with a bottle of red wine. The first release on new label Soundscaping in lush oversized gatefold package.
Recommended.
This record left our Ant feeling happy.
Got some most pleasant tunage for maximum chilling from Christophe Bailleau with his "Air Resort" CD. Both the title and the aerial photograph of a snowy mountain range suggest floating above the earth looking down and thats the effect the music has on me. The sounds are ever so pretty on the opening track with delicate bell chimes and lots of mellow ambient tones. The first time I heard this my ears pricked up and on this second listening session I can confirm that this is gorgeous stuff. The artist builds up vivid soundscapes with lots of detailed layers, hum, static sounds, glitches, synths. There are hints of Philip Glass and Eno in there as well as the more ambient ends of the Touch and Kranky rosters. Definitely a cool one to bliss out to late at night with a bottle of red wine. The first release on new label Soundscaping in lush oversized gatefold package.
Recommended.
by Norman Records (UK)
First release on the new, Norwegian label Soundscaping is dedicated to Christophe Bailleau and his dreamy, sonic landscapes. "Air Resort" is a display of lofty, tasteful and lovely balanced, cinematic ambient in an especially lovely packaging.
by Platebutikken Tiger (NO)
Christophe Bailleau had a really great album, 'Cosmet Nihil', that was released on Le Cri De La Harpe, a great, tight form of ambient music. Now, continuing on a similar path, we encounter the more recent album 'Air Resort' (not his latest release), now on Soundscaping Records. The idea behind the music is the same, ambient music, ambient/improvised if you like, only more loose this time around. Christophe Bailleau, on 'Air Resort', is credited with laptop, guitar and field recordings, plus there are two guests, Sebastien Roux (credited with sound) and Mark Templeton (credited with guitar). Seven pieces of music, that sound more like music made around the idea of making improvised music, rather than pure ambient/atmospheric kind of music, but the end result is vaguely improvised ambient music. Longer passages of soundscapes, touching the horizon, just thrown out in the air... It's a bit unfocused, without a clear direction in the music, a bit too casual... For me, the previous album 'Cosmet Nihil' has more sense, because it's more focused, more sharp... 'Air Resort' is a bit like ambient for the sake of ambient... Even ambient music can be composed, right... That is a suggestion that Christophe Bailleau might consider about his music, make it more composed, than too vaguely improvised (as in the great piece 'Silence cadeau')... (BR)
by Boban Ristevski at Outlands (MK)
A Norman Records recommendation (8th January 2010)
This record left our Brett feeling happy.
Quick reviews are the order of the day in this festive period, not particularly a circumstance which lends itself to the long form ambience of Celer and their newest release 'Pockets of Wheat' on Soundscaping. In theory their undulating, heavily processed drones (actually approaching the level of piercing on this release, uncharacteristically) shouldn't have a thing in common with the sepia-tinged fields depicted on the cover and photo insert but somehow it's a perfect emotive fit. I imagine it's probably part of some sort of innate human instinct to reprocess the alien and 'artificial' into forms more traditionally familiar to us as a species.. Or maybe it's just magic? Either way it's another fine release.
This record left our Brett feeling happy.
Quick reviews are the order of the day in this festive period, not particularly a circumstance which lends itself to the long form ambience of Celer and their newest release 'Pockets of Wheat' on Soundscaping. In theory their undulating, heavily processed drones (actually approaching the level of piercing on this release, uncharacteristically) shouldn't have a thing in common with the sepia-tinged fields depicted on the cover and photo insert but somehow it's a perfect emotive fit. I imagine it's probably part of some sort of innate human instinct to reprocess the alien and 'artificial' into forms more traditionally familiar to us as a species.. Or maybe it's just magic? Either way it's another fine release.
by Norman Records (UK)
Celer, Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-All (SRA); In Escaping Lakes (Slow Flow); Pockets Of Wheat (Soundscaping)
After the sad and sudden death of Celer’s Danielle Baquet-Long last year, you would have been forgiven for thinking that as far as the group was concerned, that was, well, that. Not so. At that time there were still around 25 Celer albums in some form or another awaiting release, and Danielle’s husband and musical partner Will Long will have his work cut out for some time yet finding a suitable home for them. What is more surprising is that - especially given the volume of material - the quality of the albums that have since seen the light of day has been as high as ever. If not even higher.It is a wonder that Celer managed to amass such a quantity of unreleased recordings given that their music typically sounds so unhurried. These three new releases don’t change that, with tracks unfolding slowly and gracefully over durations of twenty to sixty minutes. While all are carefully constructed, rich with detail, each has its own distinctive sonic characteristics, making them worthy of lengthy and leisurely investigation. In Escaping Lakes is the quietest of the three, comprising forty minutes of gently rippling surfaces, with some dark depths hinted at only on the very edge of aural perceptibility. Like the gentler moments of Stars Of The Lid, you could lie back and float off on this one’s delicate currents. By contrast, Pockets Of Wheat has harder edges and a desolate, almost sinister air. Inspired by the cornfields of Texas, an uncomfortably icy whine blows through the piece’s vast spaces, gradually shifting in intensity, and collecting competing frequencies as it goes. The unwieldily-titled Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-All feels like a requiem to lost love. It makes the most overt use of strangely mundane field recordings, memories of strolls across leaf-strewn floors and under bird-dappled skies, of lovers chatting and bickering. After an hour of gorgeous loops and drones comes the sound of something being shredded, before the album soars to a string-driven peak. The emotional resonance is enhanced by the poem by Danielle which stretches across the album’s packaging, which includes the line "I’ve forgotten the feel of someone else". The feel of Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-All is unforgettable - for me, their finest album. Well, so far at least.
These are all out now: In Escaping Lakes on Slow Flow, Pockets Of Wheat on Soundscaping, and Close Proximity on SRA. Follow the links for audio clips, and to buy.
After the sad and sudden death of Celer’s Danielle Baquet-Long last year, you would have been forgiven for thinking that as far as the group was concerned, that was, well, that. Not so. At that time there were still around 25 Celer albums in some form or another awaiting release, and Danielle’s husband and musical partner Will Long will have his work cut out for some time yet finding a suitable home for them. What is more surprising is that - especially given the volume of material - the quality of the albums that have since seen the light of day has been as high as ever. If not even higher.It is a wonder that Celer managed to amass such a quantity of unreleased recordings given that their music typically sounds so unhurried. These three new releases don’t change that, with tracks unfolding slowly and gracefully over durations of twenty to sixty minutes. While all are carefully constructed, rich with detail, each has its own distinctive sonic characteristics, making them worthy of lengthy and leisurely investigation. In Escaping Lakes is the quietest of the three, comprising forty minutes of gently rippling surfaces, with some dark depths hinted at only on the very edge of aural perceptibility. Like the gentler moments of Stars Of The Lid, you could lie back and float off on this one’s delicate currents. By contrast, Pockets Of Wheat has harder edges and a desolate, almost sinister air. Inspired by the cornfields of Texas, an uncomfortably icy whine blows through the piece’s vast spaces, gradually shifting in intensity, and collecting competing frequencies as it goes. The unwieldily-titled Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-All feels like a requiem to lost love. It makes the most overt use of strangely mundane field recordings, memories of strolls across leaf-strewn floors and under bird-dappled skies, of lovers chatting and bickering. After an hour of gorgeous loops and drones comes the sound of something being shredded, before the album soars to a string-driven peak. The emotional resonance is enhanced by the poem by Danielle which stretches across the album’s packaging, which includes the line "I’ve forgotten the feel of someone else". The feel of Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-All is unforgettable - for me, their finest album. Well, so far at least.
These are all out now: In Escaping Lakes on Slow Flow, Pockets Of Wheat on Soundscaping, and Close Proximity on SRA. Follow the links for audio clips, and to buy.
by Mapsadaisical (UK)
CELER - POCKETS OF WHEAT as featured in Podcast 714 of Vital Weekly
In a relative short time span Celer has gained a strong reputation through string of releases. They play ambient music. Their new album 'Pockets Of Wheat' was conceived during a trip across the USA, from California to Mississippi. They stayed in a small hotel in Texas and saw outside endless wheat fields and that inspired this album. They recorded five hours of recordings made with cello, violin, piano, bells, crickets and wind, which were spliced together in one hundred segments of five to ten seconds which were played as loops, played together in various degrees and various sequences. That's not easy to hear as this hour long work is one of continuos drone music: loops fade in, fade out, fade in, but since they sound kinda similar, this is music that is always moving and shifting about. Like many shades of one color, or indeed like a wheat field. From a distance it looks the same but by close inspection you will notice that they are different. It works well, this ambient music. Its nothing new under the ambient sun, but this gentle music is bound to bring light and joy on a grey day. Nothing special for the genre of ambient, and nothing outstanding in the world of Celer, but another fine addition to the vastly expanding catalogue.
(FdW)
In a relative short time span Celer has gained a strong reputation through string of releases. They play ambient music. Their new album 'Pockets Of Wheat' was conceived during a trip across the USA, from California to Mississippi. They stayed in a small hotel in Texas and saw outside endless wheat fields and that inspired this album. They recorded five hours of recordings made with cello, violin, piano, bells, crickets and wind, which were spliced together in one hundred segments of five to ten seconds which were played as loops, played together in various degrees and various sequences. That's not easy to hear as this hour long work is one of continuos drone music: loops fade in, fade out, fade in, but since they sound kinda similar, this is music that is always moving and shifting about. Like many shades of one color, or indeed like a wheat field. From a distance it looks the same but by close inspection you will notice that they are different. It works well, this ambient music. Its nothing new under the ambient sun, but this gentle music is bound to bring light and joy on a grey day. Nothing special for the genre of ambient, and nothing outstanding in the world of Celer, but another fine addition to the vastly expanding catalogue.
(FdW)
by Frank de Waard for Vital Weekly (NL)
Celer - Pockets of Wheat
The newest Celer album at the moment in which I’m writing is yet another example of how a multitude of instruments and field recordings (plus the voice of the late Danielle Baquet-Long) can become, through opportune processing, a mental balm where no one of these sources is discernible. Will Long is releasing records at a rate that, were we not sure of their quality, would be alarming. But documenting his and Dani’s activity is a mission that cannot be left unaccomplished, and we’re ever happy to listen and get mesmerized, because this is the best static ambience that you might find today: simply conceived, extremely linear in its unfolding, penetrating the inside defences without the need of imposing anything. Hazily luminescent resonances destined to be absorbed just before going to sleep at the end of the umpteenth day full of considerations about the worthlessness of many of our daily gestures, neuroses and human meetings. Pockets Of Wheat is a specimen of true therapeutic radiance, always welcome when the seriousness of the people who created it is a fundamental element.
The newest Celer album at the moment in which I’m writing is yet another example of how a multitude of instruments and field recordings (plus the voice of the late Danielle Baquet-Long) can become, through opportune processing, a mental balm where no one of these sources is discernible. Will Long is releasing records at a rate that, were we not sure of their quality, would be alarming. But documenting his and Dani’s activity is a mission that cannot be left unaccomplished, and we’re ever happy to listen and get mesmerized, because this is the best static ambience that you might find today: simply conceived, extremely linear in its unfolding, penetrating the inside defences without the need of imposing anything. Hazily luminescent resonances destined to be absorbed just before going to sleep at the end of the umpteenth day full of considerations about the worthlessness of many of our daily gestures, neuroses and human meetings. Pockets Of Wheat is a specimen of true therapeutic radiance, always welcome when the seriousness of the people who created it is a fundamental element.
by Massimo Ricci for Temporary Fault (IT)
Score: 6.5/10
In the absence of Stars of the Lid, there’s been no shortage of great drone and ambient artists, but I believe no one is as close to the duo in achieving the supposedly transcendent state of mind as Celer. Taking the descriptive route instead of the abstract, the project has had a high amount of output in the last couple of years, has been varied in its consistency and ideas but not so much in quality, and has remained good and enjoyable regardless of being ephemeral. With Celer, there is a clear understanding of what drone is, a subconscious revelation of it being like a psychology of time, a detailed map of a moment.
Pockets of Wheat finds its movement in this terrain, a zone located in the fringes of a photograph (an instant of death, a phantasm of the present), calmly reverberating with electronics along an hour of sound continuum. A glassy sound like that of a Tibetan bowl marks a frame in time and extends it, creating a wave that is eventually washed over by a second sound. Like a lake’s surface caressed by winds converging, the drone travels in a dozen different directions at once and at the same time remains still, unchanged. Flourishing in the middle point between painting and architecture, Celer sculpts this sort of tranquility with restrained passion, an emotional rationality that embraces said phantasm of the present and acknowledges the absolute nothingness seeping in from the inside: quietude is dissonant, for quietude is the end. The only thing left is a photograph, a second in sound whose lifetime has been prolonged by pure willpower. In its undeath, we find peace, we find nature, we find our own undoing at last. This isn’t art. This is life.
There is another magical manipulation at play: the perfect companion found in evocation. Fields of wheat are suggested in the cover, with the sepia tone being almost unnecessary in this short travel through the light at the end of the tunnel, its magical properties becoming practically instantaneous when we close our eyes. The drones take our imagination to this land of photographic stills, letting us explore the continuum at our leisure, evoking atomic images and symmetrical pockets of vegetation. The wind makes an entrance, and the entire field moves along with it. We cannot feel anything, for we are just an ethereal presence, but we slowly imagine how it feels. Nearing the conclusion of the piece, we start to picture our bodies once more, calmly hoping that when it’s over and we open our eyes the field of wheat will be there, with the wind and the movement signaling our demise, our ultimate transcendence into the loving arms of nature.
Technically, there might be better electronic ambient out there, maybe even better drones, but Celer’s work is still probably more meaningful and full of significance. Pockets of Wheat might help one sleep, walk through the park, or relax from a hard day at work, but it will possibly always remain in the periphery of one's mind, enacting its magic on time and on imagination, waiting for the listener to enter the positive realm of clarity, nothingness, and beauty in which it resides.
In the absence of Stars of the Lid, there’s been no shortage of great drone and ambient artists, but I believe no one is as close to the duo in achieving the supposedly transcendent state of mind as Celer. Taking the descriptive route instead of the abstract, the project has had a high amount of output in the last couple of years, has been varied in its consistency and ideas but not so much in quality, and has remained good and enjoyable regardless of being ephemeral. With Celer, there is a clear understanding of what drone is, a subconscious revelation of it being like a psychology of time, a detailed map of a moment.
Pockets of Wheat finds its movement in this terrain, a zone located in the fringes of a photograph (an instant of death, a phantasm of the present), calmly reverberating with electronics along an hour of sound continuum. A glassy sound like that of a Tibetan bowl marks a frame in time and extends it, creating a wave that is eventually washed over by a second sound. Like a lake’s surface caressed by winds converging, the drone travels in a dozen different directions at once and at the same time remains still, unchanged. Flourishing in the middle point between painting and architecture, Celer sculpts this sort of tranquility with restrained passion, an emotional rationality that embraces said phantasm of the present and acknowledges the absolute nothingness seeping in from the inside: quietude is dissonant, for quietude is the end. The only thing left is a photograph, a second in sound whose lifetime has been prolonged by pure willpower. In its undeath, we find peace, we find nature, we find our own undoing at last. This isn’t art. This is life.
There is another magical manipulation at play: the perfect companion found in evocation. Fields of wheat are suggested in the cover, with the sepia tone being almost unnecessary in this short travel through the light at the end of the tunnel, its magical properties becoming practically instantaneous when we close our eyes. The drones take our imagination to this land of photographic stills, letting us explore the continuum at our leisure, evoking atomic images and symmetrical pockets of vegetation. The wind makes an entrance, and the entire field moves along with it. We cannot feel anything, for we are just an ethereal presence, but we slowly imagine how it feels. Nearing the conclusion of the piece, we start to picture our bodies once more, calmly hoping that when it’s over and we open our eyes the field of wheat will be there, with the wind and the movement signaling our demise, our ultimate transcendence into the loving arms of nature.
Technically, there might be better electronic ambient out there, maybe even better drones, but Celer’s work is still probably more meaningful and full of significance. Pockets of Wheat might help one sleep, walk through the park, or relax from a hard day at work, but it will possibly always remain in the periphery of one's mind, enacting its magic on time and on imagination, waiting for the listener to enter the positive realm of clarity, nothingness, and beauty in which it resides.
by David Murrieta for The Silent Ballet (US)
The Sound of Northern Texas
A married couple captured the sound of the endless wheat fields in Texas: Always similar, but constantly changing.
"But what I know about is Texas. And down here... you're on your own."
Loren Visser in Coen's "Blood Simple"
Every place has its own colour, scent, atmosphere - and its own sound, a theme that many musicians, not the least in the different genres of electronica/ambient, frequently explore. Either by processing concrete sounds from geographically-determined places or by being inspired to transform field recordings to their own, new music. This is what the duo, the husband and wife Will and Danielle Baquet-Long, have taken on in this recording, a musician couple that by now have attained long experience as sound sculptors.
During a car ride from west to east in the US, they were staying a few days in a motel in Northern Texas, and here, with their windows open, they were made aware of the sound of endless wheat fields outside that constantly enveloped them, and in particular the constant, friendly breezing noise arising from the swaying wheat that only unnoticeably changed its form. From this they developed a musical concept, expressed through "always similar, but constantly changing", and this resulted in five hours of recording music and field recordings. This was split into shorter loops that were played back and repeated in arbitrary order.
The result is seven "movements" that, in theme with the duo's concept, is built to a holistic composition lasting pretty much exactly an hour. Pockets of Wheat I - VII is highly patient ambient, related to Brian Eno (obvious) and Phil Niblock to Stars of The Lid and Tim Hecker, without drama or abrupt changes or breaks, but that billows in slow movements, apparently unchanged, but just so constantly changing.
As a listener, in Norway, I am not immediately shifted to a geographic location by this. That knowledge is given up front. For an untrained ear - like mine - Pockets of Wheat does not contain any surprises in form, musicallly-speaking. Even if this is not jaw-droppingly innovative, it remains - an especially so on headphones or good speakers - a true pleasure to listen to, and an atmosphere of nature, or contact with nature, is created. Celer use strings, bells and piano, that are blended with field recordings of crickets and the underlying wind breeze that cast of the feeling of standing alone outside in a peaceful landscape, with eyes closed and sun on your face, surrounded by the gentle, tickling smell of wheat straws. This is quite easy to imagine.
I try to enter this landscape in another sense. Through Google Maps streetlevel, I thrawl through enormous acres of wheat, cities and stretches of road in northern Texas, and the emptiness of these landscapes, whether it stems from empty acres of land or desolate suburban areas and the enormous open sky, create a great perspective while Pockets of Wheat nestles snugly in between the ears. Pockets of Wheat captures the earth's own treasure chest, but it also carries with it the barren, and hard, loneliness that is embedded in nature. This nature where man becomes so tiny. This adds an extra dimension, an underlying current where darkness creates more exciting contrasts than what a simple study of wheat like this could have become.
Again I would like to complement the Norwegian label Soundscaping for elegant cover and packaging of their release.
In conclusion of this review, I googled Danielle Baquet-Long to see what other projects she or her husband have been involved in, that could further shed some light on this recording. To my grief, I discovered the young woman passed away in 2009 due to heart failure. She was only 26 years old. This may not cast a new light over Pockets of Wheat, but the music therein, and the atmosphere, is embellished in shadows. And thus breathe new life into it.
(4/7)
A married couple captured the sound of the endless wheat fields in Texas: Always similar, but constantly changing.
"But what I know about is Texas. And down here... you're on your own."
Loren Visser in Coen's "Blood Simple"
Every place has its own colour, scent, atmosphere - and its own sound, a theme that many musicians, not the least in the different genres of electronica/ambient, frequently explore. Either by processing concrete sounds from geographically-determined places or by being inspired to transform field recordings to their own, new music. This is what the duo, the husband and wife Will and Danielle Baquet-Long, have taken on in this recording, a musician couple that by now have attained long experience as sound sculptors.
During a car ride from west to east in the US, they were staying a few days in a motel in Northern Texas, and here, with their windows open, they were made aware of the sound of endless wheat fields outside that constantly enveloped them, and in particular the constant, friendly breezing noise arising from the swaying wheat that only unnoticeably changed its form. From this they developed a musical concept, expressed through "always similar, but constantly changing", and this resulted in five hours of recording music and field recordings. This was split into shorter loops that were played back and repeated in arbitrary order.
The result is seven "movements" that, in theme with the duo's concept, is built to a holistic composition lasting pretty much exactly an hour. Pockets of Wheat I - VII is highly patient ambient, related to Brian Eno (obvious) and Phil Niblock to Stars of The Lid and Tim Hecker, without drama or abrupt changes or breaks, but that billows in slow movements, apparently unchanged, but just so constantly changing.
As a listener, in Norway, I am not immediately shifted to a geographic location by this. That knowledge is given up front. For an untrained ear - like mine - Pockets of Wheat does not contain any surprises in form, musicallly-speaking. Even if this is not jaw-droppingly innovative, it remains - an especially so on headphones or good speakers - a true pleasure to listen to, and an atmosphere of nature, or contact with nature, is created. Celer use strings, bells and piano, that are blended with field recordings of crickets and the underlying wind breeze that cast of the feeling of standing alone outside in a peaceful landscape, with eyes closed and sun on your face, surrounded by the gentle, tickling smell of wheat straws. This is quite easy to imagine.
I try to enter this landscape in another sense. Through Google Maps streetlevel, I thrawl through enormous acres of wheat, cities and stretches of road in northern Texas, and the emptiness of these landscapes, whether it stems from empty acres of land or desolate suburban areas and the enormous open sky, create a great perspective while Pockets of Wheat nestles snugly in between the ears. Pockets of Wheat captures the earth's own treasure chest, but it also carries with it the barren, and hard, loneliness that is embedded in nature. This nature where man becomes so tiny. This adds an extra dimension, an underlying current where darkness creates more exciting contrasts than what a simple study of wheat like this could have become.
Again I would like to complement the Norwegian label Soundscaping for elegant cover and packaging of their release.
In conclusion of this review, I googled Danielle Baquet-Long to see what other projects she or her husband have been involved in, that could further shed some light on this recording. To my grief, I discovered the young woman passed away in 2009 due to heart failure. She was only 26 years old. This may not cast a new light over Pockets of Wheat, but the music therein, and the atmosphere, is embellished in shadows. And thus breathe new life into it.
(4/7)
by Bjørn Hammershaug for Groove (NO)
Will Long and Danielle Baquet-Long had amassed a huge catalogue of unreleased Celer material prior to Danielle's untimely passing, so listeners will be able to enjoy new Celer material for some time yet. Pockets of Wheat and Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-all, two striking additions to the group's voluminous discography, come to us courtesy of Soundscaping Records and Sentient Recognition Archive.
The duo recorded the raw material for Pockets of Wheat over the course of a three-day drive in January 2007 from California to Mississippi, with the married couple staying at a small hotel in Northern Texas during the trip. The concept for the album material came into focus as they gazed upon endless vistas of wheat fields from their hotel window and absorbed the soft rumble of the wheat blowing in the wind. Field recordings were gathered, and strings and piano were recorded too until five hours of cello, violin, piano, bells, crickets, and wind sounds were available, ready for manipulation. The duo next spliced the recordings into a hundred five-to-ten-second tape loops, which were programmed to be played through their laptops in no determined order. Though the material is described as being in seven parts, for all intents and purposes it unfolds as a single-movement work of continuous, hour-long duration. It's also a quintessential Celer recording: long, organ- and synthesizer-like tones stretch out for seeming minutes on end, at times loudly declaring themselves while at others retreating into silence. And though the piece is dominated by sustained ebb and flow of shimmering tones, subtle traces of nature thread themselves into the material: in the stillness of the setting that emerges in the occasional pauses between notes, in the distant noise of traffic, and in the omnipresent undercurrent of wind flutter, for example. Though the latter introduces a subtle tint of turbulence, the work is generally as serene as the peaceful setting the duo admired from their hotel window.
...
Compared to Pockets of Wheat, the conceptual dimension underpinning Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-all is harder to ascertain though such indeterminacy doesn't translate into any lessening of pleasure on purely listening grounds.
The duo recorded the raw material for Pockets of Wheat over the course of a three-day drive in January 2007 from California to Mississippi, with the married couple staying at a small hotel in Northern Texas during the trip. The concept for the album material came into focus as they gazed upon endless vistas of wheat fields from their hotel window and absorbed the soft rumble of the wheat blowing in the wind. Field recordings were gathered, and strings and piano were recorded too until five hours of cello, violin, piano, bells, crickets, and wind sounds were available, ready for manipulation. The duo next spliced the recordings into a hundred five-to-ten-second tape loops, which were programmed to be played through their laptops in no determined order. Though the material is described as being in seven parts, for all intents and purposes it unfolds as a single-movement work of continuous, hour-long duration. It's also a quintessential Celer recording: long, organ- and synthesizer-like tones stretch out for seeming minutes on end, at times loudly declaring themselves while at others retreating into silence. And though the piece is dominated by sustained ebb and flow of shimmering tones, subtle traces of nature thread themselves into the material: in the stillness of the setting that emerges in the occasional pauses between notes, in the distant noise of traffic, and in the omnipresent undercurrent of wind flutter, for example. Though the latter introduces a subtle tint of turbulence, the work is generally as serene as the peaceful setting the duo admired from their hotel window.
...
Compared to Pockets of Wheat, the conceptual dimension underpinning Close Proximity and the Unhindered Care-all is harder to ascertain though such indeterminacy doesn't translate into any lessening of pleasure on purely listening grounds.
by Ron Schepper for Textura (CAN)
With the untimely death of multi-instrumentist Danielle Baquet-Long in July 2009, Celer, the duo she and husband Will Long formed in 2006, came to an abrupt end. Yet, in the space of three years, the pair have recorded a considerable amount of music, and beside a number of self-releases, part of their work surfaced on a wide variety of labels, including Spekk, And/OAR, Digitalis, Smallfish and Home Normal, and releases continue to filter out.
One such new release is Pockets Of Wheat, published on Burgeoning Norwegian imprint Soundscaping, following on from last year’s excellent Air Resort by Christophe Bailleau. Recorded during a three-day drive from California to Mississippi in January 2007, and inspired by the sound of wheat gently waving through the wind in fields stretching out from the back of their hotel in rural Texas, Pockets Of Wheat contains just one hour-long sound formation built from field recordings, with Danielle playing cello, violin, piano and tambourine and providing vocals, while Will also contributes piano and tape. Culled from over five hours of recordings, the resulting piece is the fruit of intense post-processing. A slowly pulsating contemplative drone which evolves throughout, yet appears to never change, this monolithic piece is unexpectedly vivid and evocative.
It is totally impossible to identify any of the original sound sources here, so dense and drastic is the processing. The field recordings, acoustic instruments and voice have all been melted down into soft soundwaves which are then left to wax and wane throughout, with very little change in the process. This is as much an invittion to reflection as a fascinating journey through somewhat arid yet surprisingly fertile soundscapes. With very little to hang on to, the mind is left wandering, only occasionaly recalled by a slightly stronger pulse or a momentary minor change of pace in the breathing of the record.
Despite its sparse and dry nature and its restricted sonic palette, Pockets Of Wheat is a totally absorbing record which, through almost imperceptible changes, never ceases to fascinate. This is, also, a vibrant memorial piece to Danielle Baquet-Long. Celer may, as a project, have reached a premature end, but this legacy album is nothing short of breathtaking.
4.7/5
One such new release is Pockets Of Wheat, published on Burgeoning Norwegian imprint Soundscaping, following on from last year’s excellent Air Resort by Christophe Bailleau. Recorded during a three-day drive from California to Mississippi in January 2007, and inspired by the sound of wheat gently waving through the wind in fields stretching out from the back of their hotel in rural Texas, Pockets Of Wheat contains just one hour-long sound formation built from field recordings, with Danielle playing cello, violin, piano and tambourine and providing vocals, while Will also contributes piano and tape. Culled from over five hours of recordings, the resulting piece is the fruit of intense post-processing. A slowly pulsating contemplative drone which evolves throughout, yet appears to never change, this monolithic piece is unexpectedly vivid and evocative.
It is totally impossible to identify any of the original sound sources here, so dense and drastic is the processing. The field recordings, acoustic instruments and voice have all been melted down into soft soundwaves which are then left to wax and wane throughout, with very little change in the process. This is as much an invittion to reflection as a fascinating journey through somewhat arid yet surprisingly fertile soundscapes. With very little to hang on to, the mind is left wandering, only occasionaly recalled by a slightly stronger pulse or a momentary minor change of pace in the breathing of the record.
Despite its sparse and dry nature and its restricted sonic palette, Pockets Of Wheat is a totally absorbing record which, through almost imperceptible changes, never ceases to fascinate. This is, also, a vibrant memorial piece to Danielle Baquet-Long. Celer may, as a project, have reached a premature end, but this legacy album is nothing short of breathtaking.
4.7/5
by Bruno Lasnier for The Milk Factory (UK)
Receiving a noble release on the three-year anniversary of its recording, "Pockets of Wheat" represents the diminishing return of now decommissioned drone duo Celer. Living not on borrowed time but in a lag of post-production and release calendars, the Celer project has been put to rest as Will Long mourns the loss of his wife and musical partner Danielle Baquet-Long. The sources for this single track of methodically-smeared tones were captured in just a few days on a trip across the USA. Perhaps it was the mythic median of Texas which made apparent the need to gather these tectonic sounds, though not entirely unrelated, I imagine a more reflective affinity with the native sounds of Stars of the Lid emerging with the futility felt as trying to pass through such country. Purported to represent seven movements, the hour-long track offers little in the way of signposts for change. Like the shifting fields of wheat which forms its theme, these carefully-groomed tones absorb everything into their calm yet measured sway. The instruments number cello, violin, piano, tambourine and voice, used over top of the field recordings gathered, though really any alchemy or otherwise additional effort is lost in the mass or processing which comprising the true instrument at work. Broadband tones light fine sound dust to a cream static in the background while all the while a wind-beaten microphone murmurs at the edges of the channel. Again, like a forest crop these tones multiply, sharpen, and accelerate in frequency - yet appear a profound Om which refuses impressionistic purchase for any ear. Pro-press CD comes tabbed in a glossy greeting-card gatefold.
by Animal Psi (US)
Celer, the duo of Danielle Baquet-Long (rip) and Will Long, have become known, in a relatively short time, for creating captivating music, with a strong emphasis on the beauty of the sound itself. It's not really minimalist music, it's not exactly ambient, but it's more like melodic ambient with elements and ornaments of abstraction. 'Pockets Of Wheat' is a perfect example of that. At the very edge of abstract thinking, this is a kind of music with a pointed out, or if you prefer, underlined beauty. Danielle is credited with cello, violin, voice, piano, field recordings, tambourine and processing and Will is credited with piano, field recordings, tape, processing and iron triangle bell. But don't let that fool you. 'Pockets Of Wheat' is just one long melodic ambient composition of 60 minutes, extremely minimalistic, highly atmospheric and extremely precise. I usually hate the category album of the year, but I would say that this is one of the albums of the decade. Just like the album 'Venice' by Fennesz, 'Pockets Of Wheat' by Celer is another new definition of ambient music. Totally breathtaking! (BR)
by Boban Ristevski at Outlands (MK)
The album "Pockets of Wheat" consists of a single hour-long track. There are no songs, lyrics or hooks. You learn little from the packaging except that it was recorded in a motel in North Texas, and was inspired by the vast surrounding wheat fields. I’ve listened to the record six or seven times, and always there is the undeniable image in my mind of those wheat fields, the barely perceptible changes in the waves as the wind stops and shifts. You imagine these Californians sitting in the wheat, closing their eyes and dreaming of the ocean.
Instrumental, and especially ambient music, is anathema to pop. Its pleasures are of a different element. Since the music lacks an obvious narrative, ambient recordings tend to absorb meaning from the listening environment, from the environment in which the music was created, and sometimes from the story of its creators. In the case of Celer, the ambient drone husband-and-wife duo Danielle Baquet-Long and Will Long, their recordings will forever be shadowed by Danielle’s untimely death of congenital heart failure, in 2009. If any recording should stand as a memorial to her, this one certainly is stately and elegant and smart enough to be it.
Celer released dozens of records in only a few years, and apparently there are nearly as many records in the vault. There is a clear curious and prolific energy in all of their work, and repeatedly they convey their ideas through a structure based on nature, in creatively physical ways. On 2008’s "Nacreous Clouds," the music was synchronized with the movement of clouds. But their work would be mere modern art experimentation if it weren’t for the inherent, indescribable joy at its center. Celer is on a celestial journey imbued with private love.
Most drone music doesn’t hit you in the heart the way this does, and such a profound feeling of languorous warmth doesn’t just come from knowing the band’s story - that is, a couple transcending letters, expressing themselves in extended drone. Try to imagine them in that motel room, recording the cello, piano, violin, tambourine and vocals that went into this record, but you’ll never hear verisimilitude in this recording - all those sounds have been melted down to a whirring, stirring current of gold, glinting in late-day sun.
In interviews, Celer spoke about their songs as if they were gifts for each other. At once abstract and calm, "Pockets of Wheat" feels like heavy emotion, the way it can feel like a physical burden. But the private glimmering messages will never be decoded, which is why this recording manages to exude romance with nothing but minimal, sometimes menacing sounds.
8/10
Instrumental, and especially ambient music, is anathema to pop. Its pleasures are of a different element. Since the music lacks an obvious narrative, ambient recordings tend to absorb meaning from the listening environment, from the environment in which the music was created, and sometimes from the story of its creators. In the case of Celer, the ambient drone husband-and-wife duo Danielle Baquet-Long and Will Long, their recordings will forever be shadowed by Danielle’s untimely death of congenital heart failure, in 2009. If any recording should stand as a memorial to her, this one certainly is stately and elegant and smart enough to be it.
Celer released dozens of records in only a few years, and apparently there are nearly as many records in the vault. There is a clear curious and prolific energy in all of their work, and repeatedly they convey their ideas through a structure based on nature, in creatively physical ways. On 2008’s "Nacreous Clouds," the music was synchronized with the movement of clouds. But their work would be mere modern art experimentation if it weren’t for the inherent, indescribable joy at its center. Celer is on a celestial journey imbued with private love.
Most drone music doesn’t hit you in the heart the way this does, and such a profound feeling of languorous warmth doesn’t just come from knowing the band’s story - that is, a couple transcending letters, expressing themselves in extended drone. Try to imagine them in that motel room, recording the cello, piano, violin, tambourine and vocals that went into this record, but you’ll never hear verisimilitude in this recording - all those sounds have been melted down to a whirring, stirring current of gold, glinting in late-day sun.
In interviews, Celer spoke about their songs as if they were gifts for each other. At once abstract and calm, "Pockets of Wheat" feels like heavy emotion, the way it can feel like a physical burden. But the private glimmering messages will never be decoded, which is why this recording manages to exude romance with nothing but minimal, sometimes menacing sounds.
8/10
by Eric Braden at Foxy Digitalis (US)
While Celer always includes fastidious notes about what has gone into a recording, not least where its beloved field recordings have been gathered, rarely does the duo set out to essay its own semi-realistic version of something specific.
This album, its first on the new Norwegian label Soundscaping Records, is an exception - its title is Pockets of Wheat, on its cover is a picture of wheat bending to the breeze, and the duo´s expressed intent is to mimic the sway of a wheatfield discovered during a stopover in northern Texas.
Always sensitive to the small details of whatever comes its way, the couple became enchanted with the unrelenting song of the vast fields, the tones made by the wind catching the stalks and husks, and the constantly-changing melody of that song.
As usual, Celer muster a large array of instruments and equipment, from cello and piano to recordings of the wind itself, painstakingly creating some one hundred five- to ten-second tape loops which were played back and selected at random. The pair certainly achieve what they set out to do, imitate the drone of the wheatfield. The standing wheat is the constant, like the body of a cello, while the wind is the bow which plays its strands. The music it makes depends literally upon which way the wind blows.
The recording has a slightly atonal chord running through it as leitmotif. In their notes, the duo have excerpted a lengthy quote from a story by Algernon Blackwood, an author famous for imbuing nature with gothic menace. That tone is indeed dark and unsettling. In due time, you become accustomed to it, though, and as it waxes and wanes, you hear how just beyond, texture and colour are in constant flux. In fact, as more time passes, and the "wind" continues unabated, you note that some dramatic changes have occured.
A gorgeous touch indicative of the attention to detail Celer put into its work is the actual wind which can only be discerned when the music goes almost silent for a second or two.
This album, its first on the new Norwegian label Soundscaping Records, is an exception - its title is Pockets of Wheat, on its cover is a picture of wheat bending to the breeze, and the duo´s expressed intent is to mimic the sway of a wheatfield discovered during a stopover in northern Texas.
Always sensitive to the small details of whatever comes its way, the couple became enchanted with the unrelenting song of the vast fields, the tones made by the wind catching the stalks and husks, and the constantly-changing melody of that song.
As usual, Celer muster a large array of instruments and equipment, from cello and piano to recordings of the wind itself, painstakingly creating some one hundred five- to ten-second tape loops which were played back and selected at random. The pair certainly achieve what they set out to do, imitate the drone of the wheatfield. The standing wheat is the constant, like the body of a cello, while the wind is the bow which plays its strands. The music it makes depends literally upon which way the wind blows.
The recording has a slightly atonal chord running through it as leitmotif. In their notes, the duo have excerpted a lengthy quote from a story by Algernon Blackwood, an author famous for imbuing nature with gothic menace. That tone is indeed dark and unsettling. In due time, you become accustomed to it, though, and as it waxes and wanes, you hear how just beyond, texture and colour are in constant flux. In fact, as more time passes, and the "wind" continues unabated, you note that some dramatic changes have occured.
A gorgeous touch indicative of the attention to detail Celer put into its work is the actual wind which can only be discerned when the music goes almost silent for a second or two.
by Stephen Fruitman at Sonomu (UK/SE)
Norwegian label Soundscaping Records sprang to life days before Christmas 2008 and while it has only released four records since, each new additon reinforces an initial impression of impeccable taste and effortless eclecticism.
After an important additon to the Celer discography and before a new, ambitious work by Chihei Hatakeyama, Soundscaping released the motley and mysterious Sléptis ("lurk" in Lithuanian) by Strië. Strië ("hidden") is one Iden Reinhart, whose autobiographical sketch makes her out to be something of a cross between Garbo and Miss Havisham of Dickens´ "Great Expectations" - an actress and cellist who retreated from the limelight, erased all traces of her past and now holes up in an elegant mansion outside an unidentified Central European town, following her muse by experimenting with electronic music. That includes an expressed desire to incorporate "elements of the cinematic to preserve memories of her acting days", which seems at odds with the effort she took to renege them.
I don´t buy a word of it, but the enjoyment of good fiction requires suspension of disbelief and it´s such an entertaining story I am willing to go along with it.
Sléptis is an obscure and unsettling dream tale where the whispers are as chilling as the loud bumps in the night. It certainly shows a flair for the dramatic. Skewed toward red satin-draped Hammer Horror gothic, it features belting operatics, spectral choirs and murmured secrets, unabashedly melodramatic strings, scary piano and one incongruous burst of breakbeats. The closing number, "Subtraction", is as creepy a torch song as you will ever hear.
Strië hams up hauntology in a head-scratchingly amusing and delightful manner.
by Stephen Fruitman for Sonomu (UK/SE)
...Iden Reinhart is behind Strie, who 'lives in a secluded mansion on the rural outskirts of a town in Central Europe that shall remain nameless'. Otherwise the label doesn't care to tell us much about what she did, other than that she retired from an earlier career 'performing with several quartets in Europe'. So that's all we know. Her album is strange. Not bad, but just strange. Hard to get a grip on, what does she want? Or perhaps: what is it all about? Strie plays a rather curious mixture of styles. The CD starts with some rather conventional glitch music, but soon spreads out over wide variety, in which voices pop up, classical music, more glitch, ambient layers, jazz bits, bits of electronic rhythm. Lots of real instruments, lots of computer processing: here is someone at work who knows what she is doing. It doesn't make much sense, or so it seems, but oddly enough it does when you hear it. Atmospheres shift around, but always have a melancholic touch to them. An album that sounds more like compilation than one by just a single artist. But as said, also quite a pleasing album, all a bit a sombre mood. Very moody, highly varied and very nice. (FdW)
by Frans de Waard for Vital Weekly #748 (NL)
This week we got a couple 'o tasty releases on the super reliable Soundscaping label. Based in Oslo they are knowledge gatherers. I always, always trust a label which releases a handful of things a year. They don't rush releases, they don't try and cram as many down your neck as possible (though I appreciate labels have to make a living!). But the ones who release 2-3 things a year are nearly always good. They take their time over each release and everything about it done perfectly. Soundscaping is one of those labels. They released one album in 2008 (Christophe Bailieau) and a Celer CD earlier this year. Sleptis by Strie is a curious album. It's packaged in one of their lovely oversized packages with the usual striking imagery. The music is all over the shop. There are Machinefabriek-esque tracks with weird frequencies and unnerving drones. There's tracks with loads of strange noises in, clattering beats and strong atmospherics. Many of the tracks here have melodies bursting out from underneath the darkness. There's an eerie feel to the album which isn't too opressive. It's the right side of eerie for me. Very slight jazz elements in there lurking, lots of synthetic strings (which is the only bit I'm not so keen on), electronics, mad unhinged piano, creaky doors and a general cinematic feel to it. It's a really interesting record and one that gets thumbs up from me!
by Phil for Norman Records (UK)
The press release to Sléptis, the debut by "Central European sound artist" Strië, seemed to good to be true for some reviewers: "I don't buy a word of it", Stephen Fruitman simply noted in his take on the album for online platform Sonomu. Admittedly, Strië's CV is quite a little bit more colourful than most: Supposedly, a certain Iden Reinhart is hiding behind the project name - a multi-instrumentalist who once enjoyed a fruitful career as a cellist in "several quartets performing around Europe and world-wide". Fed up and disenchanted with the classical music scene, she retired, henceforth "leading a modest life in an elegant mansion" and dedicating herself to electronic music to "preserve memories of her acting days". Even Fruitman had to concede, meanwhile, that it was a highly entertaining story and who cares whether it's true or not: Sléptis, after all, has turned out to be one of the more noteworthy experimental works of this year, a truly personal statement spanning an arch from Dark Ambient to Sound Art and Contemporary Composition. Involving a great fusion of claustrophobic soundscapes, micro-noises, eerie whispering and neoclassical elements including romantic piano motives and operatic singing, the album is as disturbing as it is fascinating, as immediately beguiling as it is out-of-this-world. The latter has become something of a Leitmotif for Strië, who has described the process of giving birth to the album as one of passing on messages and shaping something which already exists. No one needs to be afraid of dealing with a ghost here, though: Strië is quite a real person, who, already before the release of "Sléptis", toured with Greg Haines and collaborated with Norwegian Ambient act Pjusk on their recent 12k release "Sval".
Pianist Glenn Gould compared the mood at concerts to those at a Roman gladiator fight. Was this impression of things not being about the music but spectacle also at the heart of your decision to quit the circus?
I can understand what Glenn Gould meant by drawing that comparison. However it's all about talking with music. In any kind of music you can find actors - sometimes acting more than playing - and people who are too shy to stop trembling. However, I've always hoped that music would rather be focused on the sounds and less on heroes . Performing classical music is scary. Most of the time, you are playing pieces which have already been interpreted thousands of times before. You need to be a genius to play it differently or at least good enough to copy some of them. And you need to be strong enough to take all the criticism even from people who are not musicians but have merely heard you play a piece on CD. Maybe I was just too weak to keep going. But most of all, the feeling that I was facing a border I just couldn't cross - imposed on me by, for example, the score or even a particular style - felt dissatisfying. Fortunately, I never wanted to leave music altogether. I know I couldn't, as my life is based on it. However, it took me quite a while to find my own path. Of course, it's always about searching anyway - and I've never stopped trying.
***snip***
Pianist Glenn Gould compared the mood at concerts to those at a Roman gladiator fight. Was this impression of things not being about the music but spectacle also at the heart of your decision to quit the circus?
I can understand what Glenn Gould meant by drawing that comparison. However it's all about talking with music. In any kind of music you can find actors - sometimes acting more than playing - and people who are too shy to stop trembling. However, I've always hoped that music would rather be focused on the sounds and less on heroes . Performing classical music is scary. Most of the time, you are playing pieces which have already been interpreted thousands of times before. You need to be a genius to play it differently or at least good enough to copy some of them. And you need to be strong enough to take all the criticism even from people who are not musicians but have merely heard you play a piece on CD. Maybe I was just too weak to keep going. But most of all, the feeling that I was facing a border I just couldn't cross - imposed on me by, for example, the score or even a particular style - felt dissatisfying. Fortunately, I never wanted to leave music altogether. I know I couldn't, as my life is based on it. However, it took me quite a while to find my own path. Of course, it's always about searching anyway - and I've never stopped trying.
***snip***
by Tobias for Tokafi (DE)
For a debut album, Sléptis is a remarkably assured and acomplished piece of work. It's the brainchild of one-time actress, cellist, and now electronic sound-sculptor Iden Reinhart operating under the alias Strië. Her music's mysterious qualities are amplified by the fuzzy autobiographical details that are available: currently living in an elegant, secluded mansion in the countryside of an undisclosed Central European town, Reinhart performed in several quartets before withdrawing from the spotlight and into the comfortable womb of her abode where her evocative compositions would be able to fully flower. Cinematic is the key word here, as the prototypical Strië composition draws upon a rich library of acoustic and electronic sounds in the conjuring of a gothic and doom-laden universe. Throughout the hour-long collection, Strië sprinkles jazz-related elements (piano, acoustic bass, trumpet, drums), voice samples, and anguished vocal fragments across heavily treated and textured foundations.
Like some feverish dream, a disturbing array of sounds converges during the portentous "Alone in the Crowd." Piano and bass motifs repeat within a sprawling field of percussive flourishes, until an acoustic bass and ride cymbal accents enter to nudge the material away from the nightmare and into the dark back room of a smoky jazz club. Nightmarish too are "Fading Away," where bits of piano, voice, cello, and (what sounds like) zither eventually gravitate into electronica territory with the inclusion of corroded breakbeats, and "Hiding in the Wardrobe," which cultivates an aura of gloom when Strië juxtaposes orchestral strings with whispered voices and percussive clicks, creaks, and rustles. The album's culmination arrives in the closing track, "Subtraction," where a gradual accumulation of sounds - piano, glitches, strings, percussion, voice - builds tension during the piece's movement away from the darkness that has shrouded so much of the album and towards light. Almost immediately thereafter, an untitled hidden track initially jars by presenting a less experimental episode of small jazz combo playing until the album's by-now familiar design re-asserts itself and the playing is smothered by layers of disorienting haze and colour.
Strië has described the album's developmental process as one in which its sounds declared themselves rather than as one involving her shoehorning them into pre-set structures. It's an astute characterization, as Sléptis's tracks do indeed seem to unfold according to their own idiosyncratic natures and with skewed and enigmatic but not irrational logic. Listening to ther album, the listener develops the impression that in pursuing the creative path that resulted in the final work, Reinhart surrendered herself to a trance-like state at the outset and remained there until Sléptis was completed.
November 2010
Like some feverish dream, a disturbing array of sounds converges during the portentous "Alone in the Crowd." Piano and bass motifs repeat within a sprawling field of percussive flourishes, until an acoustic bass and ride cymbal accents enter to nudge the material away from the nightmare and into the dark back room of a smoky jazz club. Nightmarish too are "Fading Away," where bits of piano, voice, cello, and (what sounds like) zither eventually gravitate into electronica territory with the inclusion of corroded breakbeats, and "Hiding in the Wardrobe," which cultivates an aura of gloom when Strië juxtaposes orchestral strings with whispered voices and percussive clicks, creaks, and rustles. The album's culmination arrives in the closing track, "Subtraction," where a gradual accumulation of sounds - piano, glitches, strings, percussion, voice - builds tension during the piece's movement away from the darkness that has shrouded so much of the album and towards light. Almost immediately thereafter, an untitled hidden track initially jars by presenting a less experimental episode of small jazz combo playing until the album's by-now familiar design re-asserts itself and the playing is smothered by layers of disorienting haze and colour.
Strië has described the album's developmental process as one in which its sounds declared themselves rather than as one involving her shoehorning them into pre-set structures. It's an astute characterization, as Sléptis's tracks do indeed seem to unfold according to their own idiosyncratic natures and with skewed and enigmatic but not irrational logic. Listening to ther album, the listener develops the impression that in pursuing the creative path that resulted in the final work, Reinhart surrendered herself to a trance-like state at the outset and remained there until Sléptis was completed.
November 2010
by Ron Schepper for Textura (CAN)
The label Soundscaping sounds like a new label to me and their line is 'sonic excursions into new electronic music', and the two releases that are presented here do indeed show that interest. First we have Chihei Hatakeyama, of whom we reviewed releases before on Room40, Hibernate, Taalem, Home Normal and such labels alike. For his release 'Variations' he 'embraced the opportunity to contemplate his own compositional techniques - to understand its meaning and the processed sound, resulting from his usual production method of composing in real-time DSP software environments, where heavily processing of pre-recorded sound material transforms into different forms, often to an extent with no traces of the originals'. He uses guitar, piano and vibraphone here, and a bit of field recordings here and there. Indeed its not easy to recognize a guitar in 'Variation For Electric Guitar 1' or to tell its difference in sound from say 'Variation For Piano 1'. The six pieces may sound a like, but throughout there are subtle differences and perhaps it all sounds the same, if examined superficially. Hardly a problem, since it makes this into a very coherent album of microsound meeting ambient. In Hatakeyama's body of work hardly a surprise (and that one might feel is a pity), yet it is a mighty fine addition to the work he has been exploring so far. Great late night relaxing music. (FdW)
by Frans de Waard for Vital Weekly #748 (NL)
Chihei Hatakeyama doesn’t really need too much of an introduction; his work has been featured all over the place and it would be hard to not be aware of his projects. He’s had work released on Home Normal, Under the Spire, Spekk, Room 40 and gave a fantastic release for Hibernate Recordings in its very early days of a label.
Chihei is back with his new release Variations set for release on the Norwegian label Soundscaping on the 15th of October.
The work for Variations began in 2008 when Hatakeyama-san quit using MIDI as a method for composing and began exploring the realms of highly processed sound; a method of composition that can often be a dangerous place for artists who have the urge to completely twist a sound file into something too alien. However, with Variations there is a strong sense of control that can be heard clearly. It’s evident that Chihei hasn’t overstepped the mark but knew how to manipulate these sound files so they linger ever so slightly on that faint line of recognition.
Variations then, relates to the processing of raw material. The tracks of the album are labelled according to the fundamental instrument that Hatakeyama has so carefully processed. Variations for Electric Guitar II for example. However, if the tracks were not named in such a way, it wouldn’t take an expert musicologist to figure out the original sound sources. But this is the albums strong point; Chihei still allows the instruments to be themselves and to bear resemblances to their distant, dry, relatives which thankfully places this body of work firmly in the realms of music and not sound design.
Variations is made exclusively from recordings of electric guitar, piano and vibraphone with some field recordings thrown in for good measure. The tracks gel together well and are placed in an order that really makes the album work and this is another of its best assets. The warmth softness of the guitar variations provide a resting point from the unforgiving bitterness of the piano variations. The album ebbs and flows between hot and cold exceptionally well and the progression is truly remarkable. Even though Hatakeyama has expressly stated that water is not the primary motif in this body of work it is easy to hear how the movement in these compositions is reminiscent to the movement of tides for example.
It gets even more interesting when you start to notice the icy whines fighting to be heard above the distant - almost underwater sounding - guitar motifs in Variations for Electric Guitar II. So although water isn’t a primary source of inspiration for Variations it certainly is present throughout.
The whole release is a beautiful dive into the depths of microsound that has been partnered with a twist of ambient. Of course Chihei isn’t the first, nor will he be the last, to combine these two elements but because of his respect for the original instrumentation Variations provides a beautiful and fresh look into the art form.
The photography featured as part of the packaging is stunning and really adds to the whole presentation of the piece and makes it one you definitely won’t want to miss out on.
Variations can be ordered from the Soundscaping web site now.
Chihei is back with his new release Variations set for release on the Norwegian label Soundscaping on the 15th of October.
The work for Variations began in 2008 when Hatakeyama-san quit using MIDI as a method for composing and began exploring the realms of highly processed sound; a method of composition that can often be a dangerous place for artists who have the urge to completely twist a sound file into something too alien. However, with Variations there is a strong sense of control that can be heard clearly. It’s evident that Chihei hasn’t overstepped the mark but knew how to manipulate these sound files so they linger ever so slightly on that faint line of recognition.
Variations then, relates to the processing of raw material. The tracks of the album are labelled according to the fundamental instrument that Hatakeyama has so carefully processed. Variations for Electric Guitar II for example. However, if the tracks were not named in such a way, it wouldn’t take an expert musicologist to figure out the original sound sources. But this is the albums strong point; Chihei still allows the instruments to be themselves and to bear resemblances to their distant, dry, relatives which thankfully places this body of work firmly in the realms of music and not sound design.
Variations is made exclusively from recordings of electric guitar, piano and vibraphone with some field recordings thrown in for good measure. The tracks gel together well and are placed in an order that really makes the album work and this is another of its best assets. The warmth softness of the guitar variations provide a resting point from the unforgiving bitterness of the piano variations. The album ebbs and flows between hot and cold exceptionally well and the progression is truly remarkable. Even though Hatakeyama has expressly stated that water is not the primary motif in this body of work it is easy to hear how the movement in these compositions is reminiscent to the movement of tides for example.
It gets even more interesting when you start to notice the icy whines fighting to be heard above the distant - almost underwater sounding - guitar motifs in Variations for Electric Guitar II. So although water isn’t a primary source of inspiration for Variations it certainly is present throughout.
The whole release is a beautiful dive into the depths of microsound that has been partnered with a twist of ambient. Of course Chihei isn’t the first, nor will he be the last, to combine these two elements but because of his respect for the original instrumentation Variations provides a beautiful and fresh look into the art form.
The photography featured as part of the packaging is stunning and really adds to the whole presentation of the piece and makes it one you definitely won’t want to miss out on.
Variations can be ordered from the Soundscaping web site now.
by Simon James French for Fluid Radio (UK)
This week we got a coupla tasty releases on the super reliable Soundscaping label. Based in Oslo they are knowledge gatherers. I always always trust a label which releases a handful of things a year. They don't rush releases, they don't try and cram as many down your neck as possible (though I appreciate labels have to make a living!). But the ones who release 2-3 things a year are nearly always good. They take their time over each release and everything about it done perfectly. Soundscaping is one of those labels. They released one album in 2008 (Christophe Bailieau) and a Celer CD earlier this year. This release is by Chihei Hatakayama . You're probably familiar with his sound palate which he doesn't drift too far away. This album sees him fulfilling your processed drone/ soundscape fantasies with another album of bliss. A lot of it sounds quite spiritual and uplifting. Listening closely to it you can hear the different textures and layers which build up to make the tracks. There's plenty going on to get absorbed into and even if you just want to listen to it on a surface level then it's just lovely. Excellent!!
by Phil for Norman Records (UK)
Score: 7/10
Chihei Hatakeyama was a child of hardcore and thrash metal before his purchase of a Macintosh marked the beginning of a career fascination with electronic music. This Tokyo native, whose art notably constitutes sonic processing and field recordings, bears a CV that name-drops an impressive batch of experimental labels, including Kranky, Room40, Magic Book, Under the Spire, Hibernate and Own. Impressing thoroughly with his work on Opitope - the outstanding Hau in particular - a sizeable slice of the prolific Hatakeyama’s solo work has since been placed under The Silent Ballet's pen. His lengthy discography implies a firm establishment of an artistic modus operandi. Yet here, Hatakeyama has managed take yet another step in his maturity, one that almost rivals that which removed him from his metal-oriented youth.
2010’s long-playing effort, Variations, is a graceful series of compositions built upon the acoustics of the barest of instrumentation. It strips away Hatakeyama’s previous flirtations with electro-acoustics and clean melodic interplay, buying back into ambient fundamentals such as abstraction and formlessness. The luscious enveloping tones that permeate his catalogue are still present in spades, but the variety of sonic textures is kept to a minimum, emphasizing instead the flow of sound through an abstract vacuum.
The electric guitar variations are the most solidly indicative of Variations’ essence. Part one is a metamorphosis of guitar notes into bright, crystalline tones which first ring, then bathe in their own resonance. Part two is the most minimal, predominately structured around loops of sounds deeply submerged and so brutally processed that they leave little space for source recognition. The intermittent spurts of drowned chords piercing through delicate atmosphere beckon comparisons to Stars of the Lid.
The piano variations are another gorgeous batch. Ostensibly the most consciously formed of the variations, they boast less tonal fluidity and more high-pitch twinkling between the notes. Nevertheless, Hatakeyama doesn’t alleviate the obscuring effect of his processing, continuing to frustrate attempts to reduce any sound back to its instrumental singularity. He also dabbles into a retro aesthetic reminiscent of Budd/Cocteau Twins and early Eno.
The electric guitar and vibraphone variation is the longest at thirteen minutes. This variation masterfully carries and eventually brings the theme of dynamic sparseness to a head. Warm shimmering tones are delivered by the duelling instruments and blend a bit of richness and colour into the faint, washed out palette left by the preceding tracks.
For artists who carry the burden of an extenstive back catalog, the balance of growth and consistency can be a daunting battle. And in the tricky field of ambient, Hatakeyama is probably more vulnerable to the equivocal nature of sound art’s reception, rather than to any own shortcomings he might have as a purely technical musician. Those with a tenuous grasp of the intuitive imposition and meditative quality offered by Hatakeyama’s sound might be quick to conflate his consistency with banality. The piano and guitar parts of Variations are subtly woven. There is a gel about the pieces that leaves little room for differentiation, but also an emotional substance that leaves just as little need for it. Variations might not be as textural as Saunter, as eerie as Ghostly Garden, or as adventurous as A Long Journey and Minima Moralia, but it is certainly still as introspective and capable of translating sonic technicality into that gentle tug on the heart strings.
Chihei Hatakeyama was a child of hardcore and thrash metal before his purchase of a Macintosh marked the beginning of a career fascination with electronic music. This Tokyo native, whose art notably constitutes sonic processing and field recordings, bears a CV that name-drops an impressive batch of experimental labels, including Kranky, Room40, Magic Book, Under the Spire, Hibernate and Own. Impressing thoroughly with his work on Opitope - the outstanding Hau in particular - a sizeable slice of the prolific Hatakeyama’s solo work has since been placed under The Silent Ballet's pen. His lengthy discography implies a firm establishment of an artistic modus operandi. Yet here, Hatakeyama has managed take yet another step in his maturity, one that almost rivals that which removed him from his metal-oriented youth.
2010’s long-playing effort, Variations, is a graceful series of compositions built upon the acoustics of the barest of instrumentation. It strips away Hatakeyama’s previous flirtations with electro-acoustics and clean melodic interplay, buying back into ambient fundamentals such as abstraction and formlessness. The luscious enveloping tones that permeate his catalogue are still present in spades, but the variety of sonic textures is kept to a minimum, emphasizing instead the flow of sound through an abstract vacuum.
The electric guitar variations are the most solidly indicative of Variations’ essence. Part one is a metamorphosis of guitar notes into bright, crystalline tones which first ring, then bathe in their own resonance. Part two is the most minimal, predominately structured around loops of sounds deeply submerged and so brutally processed that they leave little space for source recognition. The intermittent spurts of drowned chords piercing through delicate atmosphere beckon comparisons to Stars of the Lid.
The piano variations are another gorgeous batch. Ostensibly the most consciously formed of the variations, they boast less tonal fluidity and more high-pitch twinkling between the notes. Nevertheless, Hatakeyama doesn’t alleviate the obscuring effect of his processing, continuing to frustrate attempts to reduce any sound back to its instrumental singularity. He also dabbles into a retro aesthetic reminiscent of Budd/Cocteau Twins and early Eno.
The electric guitar and vibraphone variation is the longest at thirteen minutes. This variation masterfully carries and eventually brings the theme of dynamic sparseness to a head. Warm shimmering tones are delivered by the duelling instruments and blend a bit of richness and colour into the faint, washed out palette left by the preceding tracks.
For artists who carry the burden of an extenstive back catalog, the balance of growth and consistency can be a daunting battle. And in the tricky field of ambient, Hatakeyama is probably more vulnerable to the equivocal nature of sound art’s reception, rather than to any own shortcomings he might have as a purely technical musician. Those with a tenuous grasp of the intuitive imposition and meditative quality offered by Hatakeyama’s sound might be quick to conflate his consistency with banality. The piano and guitar parts of Variations are subtly woven. There is a gel about the pieces that leaves little room for differentiation, but also an emotional substance that leaves just as little need for it. Variations might not be as textural as Saunter, as eerie as Ghostly Garden, or as adventurous as A Long Journey and Minima Moralia, but it is certainly still as introspective and capable of translating sonic technicality into that gentle tug on the heart strings.
by Mac Nguyen for The Silent Ballet (US)
Chihei Hatakeyama keeps things simple on Variations, from the prosaic track titles ("Variation for Piano II" a representative example) to the means of production deployed to generate the album's six settings. Stripped-down it might be - in fact, it's probably the purest recording yet from Hatakeyama - but it also might be the Tokyo-based producer's most lovely. There are no subjects or narratives to speak of, just settings based on sound files heavily processed from electric guitar, piano, and vibraphone (in only one case does a track feature not one but two instruments), complemented by subtly processed field recordings.
Apparently, Hatakeyama toyed with using the title Water before settling on Variations, due to the fact that the material he produced formed repetitive patterns suggestive of water formations. He decided upon Variations upon recognizing the transformational potential offered by the Reaktor and Max/MSP programs he used to create the album's tracks. But he could very well have titled the work Water Variations, given how liquid in character the tracks have turned out to be. Few hard surfaces are present when their tones bleed into one another and shape-shift so readily. Aside from a brief moment or two, few recognizable traces of the originating instruments remain, as Hatakeyama stretches out the acoustic instruments' natural sounds into reverberant meditations of haunting and serene design. "Variation for Electric Guitar II" might at times sound like choir singing altered so extremely by processing it's more nebulous haze than human voices reverberating within an immense Gothic cathedral, but as its title confirms, the track is sourced from guitar only, albeit treated so heavily it's hardly identifiable as such. The longest piece, "Variation for Electric Guitar and Vibraphone," does, however, include moments where the steely tone of the guitar can be glimpsed though the soft, crackling simmer of field recording textures vies just as much for the listener's attention. While the piano is heard as a crystalline, icy smudge during "Variation for Piano II," its natural sound occasionally appears amidst the shimmer and shudder of the closing piece, "Variation for Piano III." But by now, with digital production methods being as advanced they are, it's all moot anyway whether a sound is treated or natural, processed or unprocessed. Projects like Variations ultimately register as exercises in electro-acoustic sound, pure and simple, and can be experienced, appreciated, and enjoyed on such terms.
November 2010
Apparently, Hatakeyama toyed with using the title Water before settling on Variations, due to the fact that the material he produced formed repetitive patterns suggestive of water formations. He decided upon Variations upon recognizing the transformational potential offered by the Reaktor and Max/MSP programs he used to create the album's tracks. But he could very well have titled the work Water Variations, given how liquid in character the tracks have turned out to be. Few hard surfaces are present when their tones bleed into one another and shape-shift so readily. Aside from a brief moment or two, few recognizable traces of the originating instruments remain, as Hatakeyama stretches out the acoustic instruments' natural sounds into reverberant meditations of haunting and serene design. "Variation for Electric Guitar II" might at times sound like choir singing altered so extremely by processing it's more nebulous haze than human voices reverberating within an immense Gothic cathedral, but as its title confirms, the track is sourced from guitar only, albeit treated so heavily it's hardly identifiable as such. The longest piece, "Variation for Electric Guitar and Vibraphone," does, however, include moments where the steely tone of the guitar can be glimpsed though the soft, crackling simmer of field recording textures vies just as much for the listener's attention. While the piano is heard as a crystalline, icy smudge during "Variation for Piano II," its natural sound occasionally appears amidst the shimmer and shudder of the closing piece, "Variation for Piano III." But by now, with digital production methods being as advanced they are, it's all moot anyway whether a sound is treated or natural, processed or unprocessed. Projects like Variations ultimately register as exercises in electro-acoustic sound, pure and simple, and can be experienced, appreciated, and enjoyed on such terms.
November 2010
by Ron Schepper for Textura (CAN)
The "variations" to which the title refers lie in Chihei Hatakeyama´s technique, rather than different versions or approaches to a single musical theme. Having recorded an assortment of pieces on electric guitar, piano and vibraphone, he then proceeded to treat the sounds like a sculptor molds his clay.
As such, Variations is only a slight departure from his usual composition technique, and actually fits neatly as a puzzle piece into his remaining discography. Despite the ostensibly heavy processing, the piano is still easily identifiable as a piano, though no piano you could play in real time or life. There may be a slightly rougher edge to a bit of the guitar on "Variation for Electric Guitar and Vibraphone", but this only serves to lift its sound a bit above the otherwise smooth texture of the twelve-minute track.
Although different, insofar as Hatakeyama is in his particular way among the most narrative of ambient artists and Variations is much less linear, it is happily more of the same from Hatakeyama, meaning thoughtful and accomplished composition making for eminently rewarding, repeated listening.
As such, Variations is only a slight departure from his usual composition technique, and actually fits neatly as a puzzle piece into his remaining discography. Despite the ostensibly heavy processing, the piano is still easily identifiable as a piano, though no piano you could play in real time or life. There may be a slightly rougher edge to a bit of the guitar on "Variation for Electric Guitar and Vibraphone", but this only serves to lift its sound a bit above the otherwise smooth texture of the twelve-minute track.
Although different, insofar as Hatakeyama is in his particular way among the most narrative of ambient artists and Variations is much less linear, it is happily more of the same from Hatakeyama, meaning thoughtful and accomplished composition making for eminently rewarding, repeated listening.
by Stephen Fruitman for Sonomu (SE)
Who knows what the future holds...
