This is simple, beautiful music which has, I think, both tenderness and pathos; it is lovely music to relax to.
Electronica - what are you listening to?
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
A rare visit for me to these shores, this time with....
This is simple, beautiful music which has, I think, both tenderness and pathos; it is lovely music to relax to.
This is simple, beautiful music which has, I think, both tenderness and pathos; it is lovely music to relax to.
To be is to do: Socrates
To do is to be: Sartre
Do be do be do: Sinatra
To do is to be: Sartre
Do be do be do: Sinatra
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
fergus wrote:A rare visit for me to these shores, this time with....
This is simple, beautiful music which has, I think, both tenderness and pathos; it is lovely music to relax to.
Tenderness and pathos. Very nicely summed up Fergus....
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
I have just posted this one over in the Classical section as Stockhausen has come up in discussion and I think I remember that there are one or two Stockhausen fans over here....
To be is to do: Socrates
To do is to be: Sartre
Do be do be do: Sinatra
To do is to be: Sartre
Do be do be do: Sinatra
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
That's one of his 'classic albums' Fergus. I had one by him ages ago but I was too young to understand the clangs 'n bangs 'n clicks 'n noises coming from the Lp :) It's long gone and I never felt the urge to check out his other music including the one you've listed. I'd say the time is ripe for checking him out now that I've become acclimatised to this type of 'music' lol!fergus wrote:I have just posted this one over in the Classical section as Stockhausen has come up in discussion and I think I remember that there are one or two Stockhausen fans over here....
What's your take on his music Fergus?
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
AF Ursin - Aika Lp
A stunning ghostly work from Timo Van Luijk, a collaborator with Andrew Chalk and member of In Camera with Christoph Heemann. Aika was originally issued in 2008 with different cover art and this upgraded edition should hopefully bring attention to one of the major European devotional drone recordings of the decade. Indeed, Aika explodes simple notions of ‘drone' with a more musical and instrument-based palette that crosses high Gothic form with a beautifully blurred sense of spatial dynamics - all smears of sound and great halos of reverb - touching on the music of Arvo Part and Grouper as much as Chalk and Heemann. The set opens with a lonely baroque piano performance, echoing around an empty room, before the album opens into a grand amphitheatre of disembodied valkyrie choirs and epic drone ascensions that combine the awe-inspiring vistas of early Tangerine Dream with cultic percussion and a dissolved European classical appeal. The second side feels even more ‘classical' in its construction, with a marriage of reeds and electronics that feels like a synthesized Mahler or Ingram Marshall's fog horn compositions re-visioned by Moondog and Cadentia Nova Danica. Aika is a singular work of New European Drone that pretty much explodes the genre. Highly recommended! (David Keenan/Volcanic Tongue)
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
cybot wrote:That's one of his 'classic albums' Fergus. I had one by him ages ago but I was too young to understand the clangs 'n bangs 'n clicks 'n noises coming from the Lp :) It's long gone and I never felt the urge to check out his other music including the one you've listed. I'd say the time is ripe for checking him out now that I've become acclimatised to this type of 'music' lol!fergus wrote:
What's your take on his music Fergus?
You obviously have not read the classical music thread recently Dermot if you are asking that question LOL!!! My friend Don in the US posted this....
Stockhausen always reminds me of a quote from Sir Thomas Beecham:
Asked if he had ever conducted any Stockhausen, he said, "No, but I once trod in some."
....and my reply to Don was....
The bold Tommy was always good for a memorable quip Don and I am with him on this one as I also trod in some Stockhausen recently LOL....
I have one more Stockhausen piece lined up soon in my playlist so I will keep you posted Dermot in case anything changes.
To be is to do: Socrates
To do is to be: Sartre
Do be do be do: Sinatra
To do is to be: Sartre
Do be do be do: Sinatra
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
I'll be more than surprised if you develop a liking for Stockhausen ;) And, no, I won't eat my hat if you do lol!
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
Timo Van Luijk and Andrew Chalk
Elodie - Echos Pastoraux
Elodie - Echos Pastoraux
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
On vinyl....
Timo Van Luijk and Frederik Croene
The cover of Voile au Vent features a sailing ship that is being carried by the wind inside its sails. The image seems to recall the past rather than the present. The ship is surrounded by utter impenetrable darkness. Even though one can see beautiful drawings of delicate flowers in the background, this scene brings to my mind rather the gothic horror tales of Edgar Allan Poe – specifically ‘The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket’ which deals with a ship lost in the frozen waters of the Arctic – rather than beauty or serenity.
The record itself starts off with a warm and brooding drone. It is followed by piano keys rambling like skeleton fingers and a beat that sounds like a wooden heartbeat. Such is our entry into the wondrous gothic world of Frederik Croene & Timo van Luijk. A duo whose approach is entirely introspective and devoid of outside influences whilst remaining aware of their existence. Timo van Luijk appears to be intend on releasing his work on vinyl only, despite of most people’s opinion that it is a dead medium from a haunted past. He also happens to run the tiny label that honours this ancient medium and has released a miniature output of records – six in the past seven years – thus creating a discography that is closer to the treasure chest of a secret society, rather than an enterprise bent on making profit.
The second piece opens with warm brass sounds which are reminiscent of foghorns signaling a ship that is coming from a distant journey and is about to enter a foreign port. These sounds are followed by a brief military drum passage and ghostly, ominous, twangy string sounds set in as an accompaniment. These sounds were most likely curled from the intestines of a piano. Although the instrument has been around for centuries, it would appear that all of its potential has been exhausted by now. Frederik Croene is bent on drawing new sounds, and appears to be highly successful in this.
Side B opens up with an aural vision that reminds me of haunted houses and children’s lullabies in equal measures. The piece is moody and shimmering, reminiscent of a fata morgana. It seems to be more intent on conjuring up visions rather than bringing a mere piece of music to the forefront. The final piece on this release differs a bit from the others since it seems to be throwing a huge chunk of modern classical music into the stew. There are triangles, Sciarrino like flutes, Lachenmann’s crashing pianos are also present as well as a brief funky bass to be found. It is a curios epilogue to an equally mystique album. Voile au Vent is unsettling and soothing in equal measures; partially modern and partially gothic.
Timo Van Luijk and Frederik Croene
The cover of Voile au Vent features a sailing ship that is being carried by the wind inside its sails. The image seems to recall the past rather than the present. The ship is surrounded by utter impenetrable darkness. Even though one can see beautiful drawings of delicate flowers in the background, this scene brings to my mind rather the gothic horror tales of Edgar Allan Poe – specifically ‘The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket’ which deals with a ship lost in the frozen waters of the Arctic – rather than beauty or serenity.
The record itself starts off with a warm and brooding drone. It is followed by piano keys rambling like skeleton fingers and a beat that sounds like a wooden heartbeat. Such is our entry into the wondrous gothic world of Frederik Croene & Timo van Luijk. A duo whose approach is entirely introspective and devoid of outside influences whilst remaining aware of their existence. Timo van Luijk appears to be intend on releasing his work on vinyl only, despite of most people’s opinion that it is a dead medium from a haunted past. He also happens to run the tiny label that honours this ancient medium and has released a miniature output of records – six in the past seven years – thus creating a discography that is closer to the treasure chest of a secret society, rather than an enterprise bent on making profit.
The second piece opens with warm brass sounds which are reminiscent of foghorns signaling a ship that is coming from a distant journey and is about to enter a foreign port. These sounds are followed by a brief military drum passage and ghostly, ominous, twangy string sounds set in as an accompaniment. These sounds were most likely curled from the intestines of a piano. Although the instrument has been around for centuries, it would appear that all of its potential has been exhausted by now. Frederik Croene is bent on drawing new sounds, and appears to be highly successful in this.
Side B opens up with an aural vision that reminds me of haunted houses and children’s lullabies in equal measures. The piece is moody and shimmering, reminiscent of a fata morgana. It seems to be more intent on conjuring up visions rather than bringing a mere piece of music to the forefront. The final piece on this release differs a bit from the others since it seems to be throwing a huge chunk of modern classical music into the stew. There are triangles, Sciarrino like flutes, Lachenmann’s crashing pianos are also present as well as a brief funky bass to be found. It is a curios epilogue to an equally mystique album. Voile au Vent is unsettling and soothing in equal measures; partially modern and partially gothic.
Re: Electronica - what are you listening to?
More obscure vinyl....
Vikki Jackman (with Andrew Chalk & Jean-Noel Rebilly), "A Paper Doll's Whisper of Spring"
Sunday, 20 May 2012 22:06 Jon Whitney
Named after the groundbreaking 1926 film by Kenji Mizoguchi, this collaboration opens with a very familiar sound found in the first two Vikki Jackman albums: Vikki on piano. Once again it is a slow, delicate, and serene melody, but it is brief and a quite deceptive introduction to the album, conceptually. There is very little of the bright piano as the record unfolds.
private release via Faraway Press
While I am versed on Andrew Chalk, I don't have any frame of reference for Jean-Noel Rebilly. Chalk is certainly versatile enough to manipulate moods and feelings with what sounds like the slightest changes in textures and timbre. A Paper Doll's Whisper of Spring shares the very direct characteristic of Vikki's most recent solo album, Whispering Pages: the songs vary in length but are all grounded in a relatively short time, unlike the sidelong pieces on her first album, Of Beauty Reminiscing, where the whole feel was far more dreamlike. Paper Doll's Whisper... is not as bright as Whispering Pages, however, and is somewhat odd to listen to this time of year as the summer is beginning.
Great Britain isn't exactly known for its pleasant weather and this spring has been an exceptionally grey and rainy one, so it's probably no surprise that this album is a product of the winter and cold spring. There's a sense of sadness and longing, which is quite a change from what I considered was an uplifting album. Following the under a minute opening "Mist," the trio present two pieces absent of a recognizable piano. "Nami" is a gorgeous interplay with almost inaudible low rumblings, matched with long, echoing sounds that seem to whisper every now and again, while what sounds like a plucked instrument of some sort is providing the only element that hints at melody. More importantly is the sort of feeling of sorrow, which is something I wasn't expecting. "Snowflake," which follows, has a sense of longing, perhaps a sleep that desires to wake up soon.
It isn't until "Magnolia" where the piano is identifiably audible again. If "Snowflake" is the longing to wake up, "Magnolia" is certainly the break of day. On this beautiful album centerpiece, it seems like the piano is only accompanied by the faint sounds of a wind instrument, possibly a clarinet, and the echoes of the piano looping back. All around is a delicate sense of stillness but the mood is far more uplifting and alive with hope.
What follows seems more like sketches, as each of the four remaining songs are extremely brief at around four minutes and under. With music this patient, a two or three minute piece doesn't have the time to fully develop, especially in "Wandering," where the echoes seem to quiet down to almost nothing in the middle and swell back up again before it fades out, almost unnaturally. "Plume" sounds like the reintroduction of the clarinet that may have been heard in "Magnolia," with a very unnerving and dissonant play between that, the piano, and possibly a very low frequency bass. This piece is under two minutes and also fades unnaturally, suggesting that it could have gone on much longer with much less than desirable results. Now I'm left with the sense of longing for something that could have become out of that session which could have been more rewarding as a much longer and more developed piece.
"Whispers" closes the album appropriately with a play between a softer, more somber piano and string-like accompaniment, and the mood is far more of a sunset than the feeling of sunrise on "Magnolia." While I do enjoy it and can appreciate its beauty I feel like we got to this point a little too fast. Even though the album is nearly 45 minutes, Paper Doll's Whisper... almost seems like it went by too quickly.
Vikki Jackman (with Andrew Chalk & Jean-Noel Rebilly), "A Paper Doll's Whisper of Spring"
Sunday, 20 May 2012 22:06 Jon Whitney
Named after the groundbreaking 1926 film by Kenji Mizoguchi, this collaboration opens with a very familiar sound found in the first two Vikki Jackman albums: Vikki on piano. Once again it is a slow, delicate, and serene melody, but it is brief and a quite deceptive introduction to the album, conceptually. There is very little of the bright piano as the record unfolds.
private release via Faraway Press
While I am versed on Andrew Chalk, I don't have any frame of reference for Jean-Noel Rebilly. Chalk is certainly versatile enough to manipulate moods and feelings with what sounds like the slightest changes in textures and timbre. A Paper Doll's Whisper of Spring shares the very direct characteristic of Vikki's most recent solo album, Whispering Pages: the songs vary in length but are all grounded in a relatively short time, unlike the sidelong pieces on her first album, Of Beauty Reminiscing, where the whole feel was far more dreamlike. Paper Doll's Whisper... is not as bright as Whispering Pages, however, and is somewhat odd to listen to this time of year as the summer is beginning.
Great Britain isn't exactly known for its pleasant weather and this spring has been an exceptionally grey and rainy one, so it's probably no surprise that this album is a product of the winter and cold spring. There's a sense of sadness and longing, which is quite a change from what I considered was an uplifting album. Following the under a minute opening "Mist," the trio present two pieces absent of a recognizable piano. "Nami" is a gorgeous interplay with almost inaudible low rumblings, matched with long, echoing sounds that seem to whisper every now and again, while what sounds like a plucked instrument of some sort is providing the only element that hints at melody. More importantly is the sort of feeling of sorrow, which is something I wasn't expecting. "Snowflake," which follows, has a sense of longing, perhaps a sleep that desires to wake up soon.
It isn't until "Magnolia" where the piano is identifiably audible again. If "Snowflake" is the longing to wake up, "Magnolia" is certainly the break of day. On this beautiful album centerpiece, it seems like the piano is only accompanied by the faint sounds of a wind instrument, possibly a clarinet, and the echoes of the piano looping back. All around is a delicate sense of stillness but the mood is far more uplifting and alive with hope.
What follows seems more like sketches, as each of the four remaining songs are extremely brief at around four minutes and under. With music this patient, a two or three minute piece doesn't have the time to fully develop, especially in "Wandering," where the echoes seem to quiet down to almost nothing in the middle and swell back up again before it fades out, almost unnaturally. "Plume" sounds like the reintroduction of the clarinet that may have been heard in "Magnolia," with a very unnerving and dissonant play between that, the piano, and possibly a very low frequency bass. This piece is under two minutes and also fades unnaturally, suggesting that it could have gone on much longer with much less than desirable results. Now I'm left with the sense of longing for something that could have become out of that session which could have been more rewarding as a much longer and more developed piece.
"Whispers" closes the album appropriately with a play between a softer, more somber piano and string-like accompaniment, and the mood is far more of a sunset than the feeling of sunrise on "Magnolia." While I do enjoy it and can appreciate its beauty I feel like we got to this point a little too fast. Even though the album is nearly 45 minutes, Paper Doll's Whisper... almost seems like it went by too quickly.