Minimal
techno albums have a propensity for using nearly the entire available
80 minute runtime of the compact disc. Deep immersion is a prerequisite
to fully appreciating the nuances of a meticulously wrought, long-form
minimal groove. But the beauty of minimal is its versatility;
use it for background music and it polishes a room’s atmosphere
to the icy, Teutonic cool of a Berlin nightclub; coil up with
some headphones and a comfortable chair and you fall into it like
a dream; and of all the musical idioms regarded as synergistic
with drugs, minimal techno is the most unsung.
An on-form Anders Ilar metes out 79 minutes
of wan, hyperborean micro-tech and svelte minimal in his latest
full length, his fifth, Sworn. The first track, Hillside, sets
the tone with melancholy, pelagic strings floating dreamily above
a deep bass hook and a mid tempo 4/4 kick drum. A seesawing processed
keyboard loop lolls into the spectral reverberating ether. Delay-soaked
bleeps stutter sublimely in phase with the beat but at slightly
unstable intervals. Eight minutes passes too fast. Colors of Rain,
the second track, evocatively and aptly titled, mines similar
territory but is busier with flickers of snare drum and hi-hat
fulgurating in counterpoint to an epic, meandering, minor key
keyboard solo that slips into different tonal shades courtesy
of minutely shifting filter envelopes. The attention to detail
Ilar exerts on tracks like this is staggering, following the lively
percussion around the keyboard and pulses of bass is a demanding
task. Icarus and Pegasus recalls Martes era Murcof. A ghostly
piano refrain sweeps through the track; notes slur and tug on
each other, teasing your ears with their peculiar texture, and
land slightly off the timing of the clinical beat. Low in the
mix but streaked with reverb are synth tracers flying through
a hooky coda and glitching out. Sampled 50s dialogue dissolving
in soft static conveys you to the album’s crucial fourth
track, September Nights. Muted, crackling spangles of feedback
garnish this sweet emotive pair of bass and synth loops that play
lambently back and forth. It’s the most minimal track on
the album and it’s my personal favorite. When the liquid
piano comes in its ping pong delayed patter wobbles like a little
wave and will thrill anyone infatuated with Pantha du Prince’s
recent album on Dial. September Nights is unaccountably expressive;
it feels sad but hopeful, sort of recalling the downcast euphoria
that Burial shot for with Untrue. Absolutely timeless.
This expressiveness unfolds like a silent narrative throughout
the album. On Imaginary Trees, the sixth track, Ilar redeploys
some more beautiful twining keyboard and jumps between major and
minor keys with the clarion rattle of an electronically stretched
hi-hat mediating and oozing the first wintry isolation and then
cool vernal shade. The last three songs, Path to the Sky, Brokenhearted
and Lakeside, are a departure from the musical paradigm of the
previous eight. Brokenhearted is a straightforward piece of sinuous
house, its mix is a little weaker than the rest of Sworn but it
eschews the direct and obvious payoff of a blinding melodic hook
for a complex weave of texture and rhythm that gradually gains
currency with listens. Lakeside would be at home on a pop ambient
compilation with its dense sonic gauze but tacks away from the
Kompakt aesthetic with a propulsive Detroit bass and vaguely menacing
synths. Masterfully executed. (WMD)
For fans of: Deepchord, Monolake, Robert
Hood, Plastikman, Veer, Loscil, Pan Sonic, Lawrence, Efdemin,
Murcof, Dial records
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