Kraak Downbeat | Electronica | Leftfield 6 Items

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label Kraak presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why." Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

Circling Ragas OF Resounding Power From THE Beating Heart OF Belgian Dronevolk

Hailing from Geel, Jef Mertens has been researching, documenting and subtly exploring the experimental music scene in Belgium and beyond for the better part of two decades. As a filmmaker, he’s dug deep in the realm of Flemish primitive fringe (Dronevolk) and chronicled the makings of giants like Sonic Youth and Borbetomagus. After running the now-defunct free tape label Dadaist Tapes, Mertens comes with a release of his own: NO Mathematics, the first record collab between Kraak and Feeding Tube. It’s an entrancing debut, where shruti box and guitar conjoin to create circling ragas of solemn yet resounding force.

Brooding Psychedelic Revelations From THE Stavangerian Outsidercore

The uncanny is never out of bounds in the debut release by shadowy Norwegian duo Firmaet Forvoksen. Gaute Granli and Thore Warland, two archetypes of the Stavanger experimental scene long active through solo work (Gaute Granli’s recent Ultra Eczema notoriety, for one) and other collaborative projects (Thore Warland’s ongoing drum devolutions with Golden Oriole, for another), have joined forces under multiple configurations over the years in order to finally coalesce under the FF banner. Together they project an ever-unfolding vision that sonically erodes into a radiant abyss, like some serious atonement from probable jazz school fugitives.

Undone Shal is an unfurling tapestry of erratic guitar pickings, muffled percussive conjurings, barging synths, and moans that are part lamentation, part incantation. These arrangements evoke a definite psychedelia, plunging the listener into unsettling yet luminous expanses of liminality that recall only the most brooding of outsiders. Like craggly rocks piled on top of each other forming an incomprehensible, gravity-defying tower, Firmaet Forvoksen’s disjointed musical deployments forge something lucid and concrete while grazing the edges of complete inscrutability. This strange relic of a record follows the lineage of Kraak rosterees past and present - the KRAMPs, Ignatzes, Red Bruts and Calhau!s of our hearths - through its assemblage of crude elements that incite the universe to vomit its hidden harmonies and forcibly test the boundaries between fluency and unintelligibility. No Norwegian wood wisecracking to be made here, for these two dwell in a malleable zone where chaos aligns to draw you in, hinting at all that is obfuscated like a marching band to nowhere.

The first LP by Bloedneus & de Snuitkever, Milli Mille. Finally on wax, it’s Lukas De Clerck’s musical vehicle for his explorations with the aulos, that ancient reed instrument that mainly satyrs and archeological enthusiasts found beguiling. Equipped with his handmade pipes and the artful sense of devotion of a true modern-day aulete, De Clerck has dug deep into the technical and cultural peculiarities of this long-silenced instrument, paying it the kind of attention and mindfulness that Marsyas the satyr so lacked when he challenged Apollo and his lyre to that ill-fated musical match. But beyond merely resuscitating an ancient cult, De Clerck as Bloedneus gives the aulos a different kind of renaissance where its penetrating qualities are expanded and expounded to effects worth every nosebleed, paving new grounds in these practices of old.

Milli Mille hints at mysteries universal to humans of yore, present and morrow, like a Joseph Campbellesque recounting of transcendental journeys through drones and extra reverb. Elegiac modes encounter pastoral vibes that are punctuated by sly baroque flourishes, all pointing to the timelessness of the aulos’s sound - one can easily imagine its power of enlightenment through many ages. Yet in Milli Mille, an insistence on the fickleness of the instrument surfaces through disorienting, perception-shifting blasts and a compulsion to push the aulos to its fullest and most destabilizing potential. This is the flavor that Bloedneus & de Snuitkever imbues into that dormant canon, one that permeates the atmosphere long after the last note puts an abrupt end to these vibrations. The satyr’s song rings on, leaving the air abuzz with a timeless pulse that holds the promise of sounds still to be unearthed.

The great Ernesto González with a welcome return to the LP format and firmly back in mind expansion mode for this beauty of a release. Fried, other worldly and exploratory - he really is out on his own with this stuff. Huge TIP! A joint release from Kraak (Belgium) & Nonlocal Research (Chile).