You know how sometimes you stick a record on and you’re immediately spirited to a particular time or place or scenario via some kind of sense-memory transporter beam? That. I’ve just stuck this rather beautiful slice of hot pink and milk marbled vinyl on the ol’ Technics, and I find myself lying contentedly in the chillout area at a dance festival, perhaps ID Spiral at Glade. Lava lamp patterns swirl over Gaudiesque shapes formed of nothing more than white fabric stretched over wire frames. Nearby, a slightly muddy but happy fairy is doing poi. In the distance, flags flutter in a gentle breeze. Ah.
Which bit of over-written nostalgia is my way of saying that album opener Your Sentries Will Be Met With Force is an ambient synth track featuring a fab floaty vocal by Tunisian singer-songwriter Emel Mathlouthi and just enough of a rhythmic drive to keep you twitching through the after-effects of your evening, and also that it’s very lovely.
The rest of the A-side largely dispenses with anything resembling a beat, and on two of the tracks Moore’s synths are paired with the twinkly (but thankfully not twee, or at least I don’t find it so) harp of Mary Lattimore. The B-side is entirely taken up with the evocatively titled My Time Among The Snake Lords, which clocks in at fifteen sprawling minutes, starting out in glacial ambient mode, picking up a little bit of a sparkle as it goes along, and then about halfway through gaining a bass guitar line which I have to admit is a teensy bit too bushily moustachioed for my taste but which doesn’t spoil the vibe too much.
In conclusion I give this album “pretty nice stuff to kick back to” out of ten, but I give the first track “aw, dude, I want to be in a field full of weary ravers so much right now” out of ten, and it’s worth buying on the strength of that (and, yes, I did just cheat and go back and listen to it again after the record had finished).
I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Modern Classical / Ambient.
William Basinski has a remarkable ability to seemingly distil the essence of a moment in time and stretch it out to epic durations. So it seems appropriate for him to tackle the subject of black holes, where gravitational time dilation means that (to an outside observer) a clock will appear to slow and stop as it approaches the event horizon (as any fule know). On Time Out Of Time features an audio conversion of data from LIGO’s ground-breaking gravitational wave detection events, which is pretty darned exciting. (Basinski, who is surprisingly feisty when he’s not actually engaged in the serious business of time-stretching and the like, describes this as the sound you get “when two black holes fuck”.)
The result is 39 minutes of ethereally delicate ambient music that really does seem to float out of time. (The vinyl has two 19-minute tracks, On Time Out Of Time and On Time Out Of Time (The Lovers). The digital release has a single 39-minute version, plus a 10-minute bonus track which I don’t really think adds much.) I described 2017’s A Shadow In Time as “Basinski’s subtle magic at its strongest”. It’s just possible that he might have outdone himself again here.
I bought this from Juno. They call it Ambient / Drone.
So, we have to start with the stories. Here’s the first story: In 2001, William Basinski came upon some tape loops of slowed-down recordings from radio which he’d made in the 1980s, back before he got (relatively speaking) famous in the ’90s. He decided to transfer them to digital, set the loops going, and hit record. Then he watched as the magnetic material flaked off the tape as it went round. The result is a work which is slowly but inexorably disappearing as we listen to it. Here’s the second story: He completed the work on September 11 of that year, and played it through for his friends sitting on the roof of his apartment in Brooklyn, watching the smoke billow over Manhattan.
And we really do have to start with the stories, because this is the kind of music which wouldn’t be the same without knowing the context of its creation. The first four CDs (originally released individually in 2002 and 2003) are made entirely from a few loops of music each a few seconds long. They have a gentle, ambient minimalism, the effect is pleasingly meditative. As such, they would be pleasing to dip into, but their combined running time of almost five hours would probably be a little much. As a complete work it’s something else again. Okay, so the metaphor isn’t exactly subtle, but this music is excellently suited for calm contemplation, and I find the effect rather moving. Its monumental scale makes it all the more powerful.
The fifth CD, new to this box set, contains two live versions of the first (and best known) track. These are rather strange propositions, both being painstakingly literal orchestrations, in which the performers play the same few bars over and over, the disintegration being effected by notes getting cut short or dropped from the melody. At first, it seems a somewhat pedantically literal effort, but on reflection it kind of works, and as part of this package it stands as a testament to the importance of the work. This is especially true of the first, purely orchestral, version, performed by The Wordless Museum Orchestra in a concert in the Egyptian Temple of Dendur as rebuilt in the Metropolitan Museum of Art to mark the 10th anniversary of 9/11 (and so of the work). The second version is from the Venice Biennale in 2008, and is played by Alter Ego (who, like all right-thinking people, I love for the performance of Gavin Bryars’ The Sinking Of The Titanic which they did with Philip Jeck), this time with the addition of an overlay of distant-sounding clangs and pops described as a “Field Recording Of Venice With Empty Cigarette Pack” by Basinski himself. Finally, we get a DVD of the track being played over video footage of the smoke over Manhattan shot at that first play-through in 2001. This is undeniably unsettling, but I admire its unsentimental attitude.
A delightful person bought this for me from Boomkat. They call it Dark Ambient / Drone / Metal.