Clonic Earth
Valerio Tricoli
Clonic Earth
Boomkat Product Review:
PAN’s arch electro-acoustic se’er reveals a new solo masterwork of filigree detail, mercurial movement and abyssal psychological insight with Clonic Earth, arriving two years since Miseri Lares gouged an irreparable hole in our listening lives.
Clonic Earth represents a surreal, allegorical study on the metaphysics and ontology of fire and its importance to life; reflecting a flux between states of vital, energy-giving convulsion and perpetual entropic decay thru the textural communications of a plethora of swarming, disembodied voices and abstracted, flammable sonics.
Under a title referring to a type of seizure, or involuntary rapid contraction and expansion of a muscle, Clonic Earth forms a sort of waking nightmare that oscillates between pensive tranquility, out-of-body atmospheric pressure drops and free falling chaos, all punctuated by the aural equivalent of hypnic jerks - those startling spasms that spark and moderate the liminal boundary between waking and dream life.
The presence of choral voices, which no doubt speak to Tricoli’s roots in Catholic south Italy, lends a liturgical gravity to proceedings yet never weighs it down; instead, like the myriad birdcalls and his own voice, they provide snagging points of contrast, or pivots around which the amorphous mass of estranged references coagulate and diffuse, uprooting and translating their meaning into an intangible grammar of elemental chaos and complexity.
PAN evocatively compare the album with a large Hieronymous Bosch painting, which is quite right in terms of its rolling scale and sense of perspective, telescoping between the crackling embers of hell in the near-otoacoustic intro of The Hallowed Receiver and the transition from church bells to sooty caverns and voice-inside-your-head moans of As For The Crack with an effortless that belies the meticulous micro/macro-organisms at work between the eyes, under the skin of this incredible beast.
This is the kind of record that makes others in its field pale in significance, and is probably only matched right now for levels of ingenuity and vision by elements of the recent Autechre album, but even then Tricoli is still well out on his own.
Huge recommendation.
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Boomkat Product Review:
PAN’s arch electro-acoustic se’er reveals a new solo masterwork of filigree detail, mercurial movement and abyssal psychological insight with Clonic Earth, arriving two years since Miseri Lares gouged an irreparable hole in our listening lives.
Clonic Earth represents a surreal, allegorical study on the metaphysics and ontology of fire and its importance to life; reflecting a flux between states of vital, energy-giving convulsion and perpetual entropic decay thru the textural communications of a plethora of swarming, disembodied voices and abstracted, flammable sonics.
Under a title referring to a type of seizure, or involuntary rapid contraction and expansion of a muscle, Clonic Earth forms a sort of waking nightmare that oscillates between pensive tranquility, out-of-body atmospheric pressure drops and free falling chaos, all punctuated by the aural equivalent of hypnic jerks - those startling spasms that spark and moderate the liminal boundary between waking and dream life.
The presence of choral voices, which no doubt speak to Tricoli’s roots in Catholic south Italy, lends a liturgical gravity to proceedings yet never weighs it down; instead, like the myriad birdcalls and his own voice, they provide snagging points of contrast, or pivots around which the amorphous mass of estranged references coagulate and diffuse, uprooting and translating their meaning into an intangible grammar of elemental chaos and complexity.
PAN evocatively compare the album with a large Hieronymous Bosch painting, which is quite right in terms of its rolling scale and sense of perspective, telescoping between the crackling embers of hell in the near-otoacoustic intro of The Hallowed Receiver and the transition from church bells to sooty caverns and voice-inside-your-head moans of As For The Crack with an effortless that belies the meticulous micro/macro-organisms at work between the eyes, under the skin of this incredible beast.
This is the kind of record that makes others in its field pale in significance, and is probably only matched right now for levels of ingenuity and vision by elements of the recent Autechre album, but even then Tricoli is still well out on his own.
Huge recommendation.
Boomkat Product Review:
PAN’s arch electro-acoustic se’er reveals a new solo masterwork of filigree detail, mercurial movement and abyssal psychological insight with Clonic Earth, arriving two years since Miseri Lares gouged an irreparable hole in our listening lives.
Clonic Earth represents a surreal, allegorical study on the metaphysics and ontology of fire and its importance to life; reflecting a flux between states of vital, energy-giving convulsion and perpetual entropic decay thru the textural communications of a plethora of swarming, disembodied voices and abstracted, flammable sonics.
Under a title referring to a type of seizure, or involuntary rapid contraction and expansion of a muscle, Clonic Earth forms a sort of waking nightmare that oscillates between pensive tranquility, out-of-body atmospheric pressure drops and free falling chaos, all punctuated by the aural equivalent of hypnic jerks - those startling spasms that spark and moderate the liminal boundary between waking and dream life.
The presence of choral voices, which no doubt speak to Tricoli’s roots in Catholic south Italy, lends a liturgical gravity to proceedings yet never weighs it down; instead, like the myriad birdcalls and his own voice, they provide snagging points of contrast, or pivots around which the amorphous mass of estranged references coagulate and diffuse, uprooting and translating their meaning into an intangible grammar of elemental chaos and complexity.
PAN evocatively compare the album with a large Hieronymous Bosch painting, which is quite right in terms of its rolling scale and sense of perspective, telescoping between the crackling embers of hell in the near-otoacoustic intro of The Hallowed Receiver and the transition from church bells to sooty caverns and voice-inside-your-head moans of As For The Crack with an effortless that belies the meticulous micro/macro-organisms at work between the eyes, under the skin of this incredible beast.
This is the kind of record that makes others in its field pale in significance, and is probably only matched right now for levels of ingenuity and vision by elements of the recent Autechre album, but even then Tricoli is still well out on his own.
Huge recommendation.
Boomkat Product Review:
PAN’s arch electro-acoustic se’er reveals a new solo masterwork of filigree detail, mercurial movement and abyssal psychological insight with Clonic Earth, arriving two years since Miseri Lares gouged an irreparable hole in our listening lives.
Clonic Earth represents a surreal, allegorical study on the metaphysics and ontology of fire and its importance to life; reflecting a flux between states of vital, energy-giving convulsion and perpetual entropic decay thru the textural communications of a plethora of swarming, disembodied voices and abstracted, flammable sonics.
Under a title referring to a type of seizure, or involuntary rapid contraction and expansion of a muscle, Clonic Earth forms a sort of waking nightmare that oscillates between pensive tranquility, out-of-body atmospheric pressure drops and free falling chaos, all punctuated by the aural equivalent of hypnic jerks - those startling spasms that spark and moderate the liminal boundary between waking and dream life.
The presence of choral voices, which no doubt speak to Tricoli’s roots in Catholic south Italy, lends a liturgical gravity to proceedings yet never weighs it down; instead, like the myriad birdcalls and his own voice, they provide snagging points of contrast, or pivots around which the amorphous mass of estranged references coagulate and diffuse, uprooting and translating their meaning into an intangible grammar of elemental chaos and complexity.
PAN evocatively compare the album with a large Hieronymous Bosch painting, which is quite right in terms of its rolling scale and sense of perspective, telescoping between the crackling embers of hell in the near-otoacoustic intro of The Hallowed Receiver and the transition from church bells to sooty caverns and voice-inside-your-head moans of As For The Crack with an effortless that belies the meticulous micro/macro-organisms at work between the eyes, under the skin of this incredible beast.
This is the kind of record that makes others in its field pale in significance, and is probably only matched right now for levels of ingenuity and vision by elements of the recent Autechre album, but even then Tricoli is still well out on his own.
Huge recommendation.
In Stock (Ready To Ship)
Back in stock. Mastered and cut by Rashad Becker at D&M, featuring artwork by Bill Kouligas.
Boomkat Product Review:
PAN’s arch electro-acoustic se’er reveals a new solo masterwork of filigree detail, mercurial movement and abyssal psychological insight with Clonic Earth, arriving two years since Miseri Lares gouged an irreparable hole in our listening lives.
Clonic Earth represents a surreal, allegorical study on the metaphysics and ontology of fire and its importance to life; reflecting a flux between states of vital, energy-giving convulsion and perpetual entropic decay thru the textural communications of a plethora of swarming, disembodied voices and abstracted, flammable sonics.
Under a title referring to a type of seizure, or involuntary rapid contraction and expansion of a muscle, Clonic Earth forms a sort of waking nightmare that oscillates between pensive tranquility, out-of-body atmospheric pressure drops and free falling chaos, all punctuated by the aural equivalent of hypnic jerks - those startling spasms that spark and moderate the liminal boundary between waking and dream life.
The presence of choral voices, which no doubt speak to Tricoli’s roots in Catholic south Italy, lends a liturgical gravity to proceedings yet never weighs it down; instead, like the myriad birdcalls and his own voice, they provide snagging points of contrast, or pivots around which the amorphous mass of estranged references coagulate and diffuse, uprooting and translating their meaning into an intangible grammar of elemental chaos and complexity.
PAN evocatively compare the album with a large Hieronymous Bosch painting, which is quite right in terms of its rolling scale and sense of perspective, telescoping between the crackling embers of hell in the near-otoacoustic intro of The Hallowed Receiver and the transition from church bells to sooty caverns and voice-inside-your-head moans of As For The Crack with an effortless that belies the meticulous micro/macro-organisms at work between the eyes, under the skin of this incredible beast.
This is the kind of record that makes others in its field pale in significance, and is probably only matched right now for levels of ingenuity and vision by elements of the recent Autechre album, but even then Tricoli is still well out on his own.
Huge recommendation.
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