ARCHEOLOGY // ARCHEOLOGIA
Alvin Curran digs into his vast archives, creating two "new" works from environmental recordings and modular experiments made in the 1970s, when he composed iconic pieces like 'Under The Fig Tree' and the recently reissued 'Fiori Chiari, Fiori Oscuri'.
Curran took a lot of convincing to revisit this old material. 'ARCHEOLOGY // ARCHEOLOGIA' isn't simply a collage of vintage sounds, Curran has fashioned the elements into new compositions that he explains were the result of a process avoiding sentimentalism, and doing all he could to stop himself from being crushed under the weight of his own legacy - and its contemporary relevance. So the album is a sort of long delayed response to his classic material; the meditative, minimalist VCS3 synthwork that made 'Under The Fig Tree' such an early milestone, and his experiments with the Serge modular system we heard on 'The Works' are cautiously veiled elements, stitched into a dramatic patchwork of characteristically animated real-world atmospheres that hark back to 1978's 'Fiori Chiari...'.
On 'La Serra', he lets the soundscapes speak for themselves at first - insects buzz in the foreground, and we can hear what might be an artist cleaning paint from brushes and humming, rattling pots and pans. The synthesised elements are incredibly subtle here, forming eerie rumbles that gently warp the narrative, harmonising with Moniek Darge's enduring 'Sounds of Sacred Places'. As the piece develops, Curran introduces more musical elements, letting harmonica drones, flutes and voices extend the canvas initially, and foreshadow a chugging, surprisingly prescient analog synth section. Choosing not to get lost in reverence for these sounds, he concludes the composition by mimicking buzzing drones with amplified bees, bringing us back to nature once again. His approach is similarly nuanced on 'Othello By Night', where barking dogs disrupt his musicbox chimes and street sounds. Footsteps provide a human rhythm, and usher in a chorus of whistling tones that Curran matches to high-pitched electronic squeals and brassy lead fidgets.
But it's the footsteps, panned and overlayed to create tension, that provide the focus here; the synthetic elements are used sparingly as balance.Their purpose becomes clearer when the street sounds snowball into a crunching mass of industrial noise, only to be cut into echoing Italian conversation. Curran fades up the humming, ethereal feedback trails and manic oscillations as a reply to the bluster, cutting through the density with cheerful fairground chimes. It's touching stuff - not just a collage of memories, but a way for Curran to impart his wisdom on a selection of vintage textures.
Always curious to witness artists revisit their own legacy - and Curran does so in a way that swerves nostalgia in favour of something much more visceral, and interesting.
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Alvin Curran digs into his vast archives, creating two "new" works from environmental recordings and modular experiments made in the 1970s, when he composed iconic pieces like 'Under The Fig Tree' and the recently reissued 'Fiori Chiari, Fiori Oscuri'.
Curran took a lot of convincing to revisit this old material. 'ARCHEOLOGY // ARCHEOLOGIA' isn't simply a collage of vintage sounds, Curran has fashioned the elements into new compositions that he explains were the result of a process avoiding sentimentalism, and doing all he could to stop himself from being crushed under the weight of his own legacy - and its contemporary relevance. So the album is a sort of long delayed response to his classic material; the meditative, minimalist VCS3 synthwork that made 'Under The Fig Tree' such an early milestone, and his experiments with the Serge modular system we heard on 'The Works' are cautiously veiled elements, stitched into a dramatic patchwork of characteristically animated real-world atmospheres that hark back to 1978's 'Fiori Chiari...'.
On 'La Serra', he lets the soundscapes speak for themselves at first - insects buzz in the foreground, and we can hear what might be an artist cleaning paint from brushes and humming, rattling pots and pans. The synthesised elements are incredibly subtle here, forming eerie rumbles that gently warp the narrative, harmonising with Moniek Darge's enduring 'Sounds of Sacred Places'. As the piece develops, Curran introduces more musical elements, letting harmonica drones, flutes and voices extend the canvas initially, and foreshadow a chugging, surprisingly prescient analog synth section. Choosing not to get lost in reverence for these sounds, he concludes the composition by mimicking buzzing drones with amplified bees, bringing us back to nature once again. His approach is similarly nuanced on 'Othello By Night', where barking dogs disrupt his musicbox chimes and street sounds. Footsteps provide a human rhythm, and usher in a chorus of whistling tones that Curran matches to high-pitched electronic squeals and brassy lead fidgets.
But it's the footsteps, panned and overlayed to create tension, that provide the focus here; the synthetic elements are used sparingly as balance.Their purpose becomes clearer when the street sounds snowball into a crunching mass of industrial noise, only to be cut into echoing Italian conversation. Curran fades up the humming, ethereal feedback trails and manic oscillations as a reply to the bluster, cutting through the density with cheerful fairground chimes. It's touching stuff - not just a collage of memories, but a way for Curran to impart his wisdom on a selection of vintage textures.
Always curious to witness artists revisit their own legacy - and Curran does so in a way that swerves nostalgia in favour of something much more visceral, and interesting.
Alvin Curran digs into his vast archives, creating two "new" works from environmental recordings and modular experiments made in the 1970s, when he composed iconic pieces like 'Under The Fig Tree' and the recently reissued 'Fiori Chiari, Fiori Oscuri'.
Curran took a lot of convincing to revisit this old material. 'ARCHEOLOGY // ARCHEOLOGIA' isn't simply a collage of vintage sounds, Curran has fashioned the elements into new compositions that he explains were the result of a process avoiding sentimentalism, and doing all he could to stop himself from being crushed under the weight of his own legacy - and its contemporary relevance. So the album is a sort of long delayed response to his classic material; the meditative, minimalist VCS3 synthwork that made 'Under The Fig Tree' such an early milestone, and his experiments with the Serge modular system we heard on 'The Works' are cautiously veiled elements, stitched into a dramatic patchwork of characteristically animated real-world atmospheres that hark back to 1978's 'Fiori Chiari...'.
On 'La Serra', he lets the soundscapes speak for themselves at first - insects buzz in the foreground, and we can hear what might be an artist cleaning paint from brushes and humming, rattling pots and pans. The synthesised elements are incredibly subtle here, forming eerie rumbles that gently warp the narrative, harmonising with Moniek Darge's enduring 'Sounds of Sacred Places'. As the piece develops, Curran introduces more musical elements, letting harmonica drones, flutes and voices extend the canvas initially, and foreshadow a chugging, surprisingly prescient analog synth section. Choosing not to get lost in reverence for these sounds, he concludes the composition by mimicking buzzing drones with amplified bees, bringing us back to nature once again. His approach is similarly nuanced on 'Othello By Night', where barking dogs disrupt his musicbox chimes and street sounds. Footsteps provide a human rhythm, and usher in a chorus of whistling tones that Curran matches to high-pitched electronic squeals and brassy lead fidgets.
But it's the footsteps, panned and overlayed to create tension, that provide the focus here; the synthetic elements are used sparingly as balance.Their purpose becomes clearer when the street sounds snowball into a crunching mass of industrial noise, only to be cut into echoing Italian conversation. Curran fades up the humming, ethereal feedback trails and manic oscillations as a reply to the bluster, cutting through the density with cheerful fairground chimes. It's touching stuff - not just a collage of memories, but a way for Curran to impart his wisdom on a selection of vintage textures.
Always curious to witness artists revisit their own legacy - and Curran does so in a way that swerves nostalgia in favour of something much more visceral, and interesting.
Alvin Curran digs into his vast archives, creating two "new" works from environmental recordings and modular experiments made in the 1970s, when he composed iconic pieces like 'Under The Fig Tree' and the recently reissued 'Fiori Chiari, Fiori Oscuri'.
Curran took a lot of convincing to revisit this old material. 'ARCHEOLOGY // ARCHEOLOGIA' isn't simply a collage of vintage sounds, Curran has fashioned the elements into new compositions that he explains were the result of a process avoiding sentimentalism, and doing all he could to stop himself from being crushed under the weight of his own legacy - and its contemporary relevance. So the album is a sort of long delayed response to his classic material; the meditative, minimalist VCS3 synthwork that made 'Under The Fig Tree' such an early milestone, and his experiments with the Serge modular system we heard on 'The Works' are cautiously veiled elements, stitched into a dramatic patchwork of characteristically animated real-world atmospheres that hark back to 1978's 'Fiori Chiari...'.
On 'La Serra', he lets the soundscapes speak for themselves at first - insects buzz in the foreground, and we can hear what might be an artist cleaning paint from brushes and humming, rattling pots and pans. The synthesised elements are incredibly subtle here, forming eerie rumbles that gently warp the narrative, harmonising with Moniek Darge's enduring 'Sounds of Sacred Places'. As the piece develops, Curran introduces more musical elements, letting harmonica drones, flutes and voices extend the canvas initially, and foreshadow a chugging, surprisingly prescient analog synth section. Choosing not to get lost in reverence for these sounds, he concludes the composition by mimicking buzzing drones with amplified bees, bringing us back to nature once again. His approach is similarly nuanced on 'Othello By Night', where barking dogs disrupt his musicbox chimes and street sounds. Footsteps provide a human rhythm, and usher in a chorus of whistling tones that Curran matches to high-pitched electronic squeals and brassy lead fidgets.
But it's the footsteps, panned and overlayed to create tension, that provide the focus here; the synthetic elements are used sparingly as balance.Their purpose becomes clearer when the street sounds snowball into a crunching mass of industrial noise, only to be cut into echoing Italian conversation. Curran fades up the humming, ethereal feedback trails and manic oscillations as a reply to the bluster, cutting through the density with cheerful fairground chimes. It's touching stuff - not just a collage of memories, but a way for Curran to impart his wisdom on a selection of vintage textures.
Always curious to witness artists revisit their own legacy - and Curran does so in a way that swerves nostalgia in favour of something much more visceral, and interesting.
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Alvin Curran digs into his vast archives, creating two "new" works from environmental recordings and modular experiments made in the 1970s, when he composed iconic pieces like 'Under The Fig Tree' and the recently reissued 'Fiori Chiari, Fiori Oscuri'.
Curran took a lot of convincing to revisit this old material. 'ARCHEOLOGY // ARCHEOLOGIA' isn't simply a collage of vintage sounds, Curran has fashioned the elements into new compositions that he explains were the result of a process avoiding sentimentalism, and doing all he could to stop himself from being crushed under the weight of his own legacy - and its contemporary relevance. So the album is a sort of long delayed response to his classic material; the meditative, minimalist VCS3 synthwork that made 'Under The Fig Tree' such an early milestone, and his experiments with the Serge modular system we heard on 'The Works' are cautiously veiled elements, stitched into a dramatic patchwork of characteristically animated real-world atmospheres that hark back to 1978's 'Fiori Chiari...'.
On 'La Serra', he lets the soundscapes speak for themselves at first - insects buzz in the foreground, and we can hear what might be an artist cleaning paint from brushes and humming, rattling pots and pans. The synthesised elements are incredibly subtle here, forming eerie rumbles that gently warp the narrative, harmonising with Moniek Darge's enduring 'Sounds of Sacred Places'. As the piece develops, Curran introduces more musical elements, letting harmonica drones, flutes and voices extend the canvas initially, and foreshadow a chugging, surprisingly prescient analog synth section. Choosing not to get lost in reverence for these sounds, he concludes the composition by mimicking buzzing drones with amplified bees, bringing us back to nature once again. His approach is similarly nuanced on 'Othello By Night', where barking dogs disrupt his musicbox chimes and street sounds. Footsteps provide a human rhythm, and usher in a chorus of whistling tones that Curran matches to high-pitched electronic squeals and brassy lead fidgets.
But it's the footsteps, panned and overlayed to create tension, that provide the focus here; the synthetic elements are used sparingly as balance.Their purpose becomes clearer when the street sounds snowball into a crunching mass of industrial noise, only to be cut into echoing Italian conversation. Curran fades up the humming, ethereal feedback trails and manic oscillations as a reply to the bluster, cutting through the density with cheerful fairground chimes. It's touching stuff - not just a collage of memories, but a way for Curran to impart his wisdom on a selection of vintage textures.
Always curious to witness artists revisit their own legacy - and Curran does so in a way that swerves nostalgia in favour of something much more visceral, and interesting.