Quickly following July's murky "Swamps/Things", GRM director François J. Bonnet aka Kassel Jaeger returns with an unsettlingly organic slab of smudgy, flickering drone for Oren Ambarchi's Black Truffle imprint.
Anyone who heard summer's "Swamps/Things" should know broadly what to expect, but "Meith" is lighter and more subtle than its predecessor. The fusion of careful, evocative field recordings and slender, wavering drones is still at the center of Bonnet's craft, but working in strict long-form, the composer lets things unfold at an even slower pace. The devotional time dilation of organ music (see also Kali Malone's "The Sacrificial Code") is an obvious reference, and Bonnet uses this baseline to distance himself from the dusty academic practices that have haunted experimental electronic music for decades.
"Meith" is teeming with life; at times it sounds like tiny entities are crawling in and out of his undulating tones, burrowing and scurrying around the sparse notes. Like the resonant tones of a pipe organ, no drone feels static or unmoving. And while there are few grand changes in the piece (there are two distinct sides but this is a comfortably continuous record) it never gets dull or static, not even for a second. Don't call it ambient - "Meith" needs to be listened to as closely as possible for maximum enjoyment. In fact it's often the quietest, most unexpected sounds that end up enthralling us the most. Pure outerzone business.
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Quickly following July's murky "Swamps/Things", GRM director François J. Bonnet aka Kassel Jaeger returns with an unsettlingly organic slab of smudgy, flickering drone for Oren Ambarchi's Black Truffle imprint.
Anyone who heard summer's "Swamps/Things" should know broadly what to expect, but "Meith" is lighter and more subtle than its predecessor. The fusion of careful, evocative field recordings and slender, wavering drones is still at the center of Bonnet's craft, but working in strict long-form, the composer lets things unfold at an even slower pace. The devotional time dilation of organ music (see also Kali Malone's "The Sacrificial Code") is an obvious reference, and Bonnet uses this baseline to distance himself from the dusty academic practices that have haunted experimental electronic music for decades.
"Meith" is teeming with life; at times it sounds like tiny entities are crawling in and out of his undulating tones, burrowing and scurrying around the sparse notes. Like the resonant tones of a pipe organ, no drone feels static or unmoving. And while there are few grand changes in the piece (there are two distinct sides but this is a comfortably continuous record) it never gets dull or static, not even for a second. Don't call it ambient - "Meith" needs to be listened to as closely as possible for maximum enjoyment. In fact it's often the quietest, most unexpected sounds that end up enthralling us the most. Pure outerzone business.
Quickly following July's murky "Swamps/Things", GRM director François J. Bonnet aka Kassel Jaeger returns with an unsettlingly organic slab of smudgy, flickering drone for Oren Ambarchi's Black Truffle imprint.
Anyone who heard summer's "Swamps/Things" should know broadly what to expect, but "Meith" is lighter and more subtle than its predecessor. The fusion of careful, evocative field recordings and slender, wavering drones is still at the center of Bonnet's craft, but working in strict long-form, the composer lets things unfold at an even slower pace. The devotional time dilation of organ music (see also Kali Malone's "The Sacrificial Code") is an obvious reference, and Bonnet uses this baseline to distance himself from the dusty academic practices that have haunted experimental electronic music for decades.
"Meith" is teeming with life; at times it sounds like tiny entities are crawling in and out of his undulating tones, burrowing and scurrying around the sparse notes. Like the resonant tones of a pipe organ, no drone feels static or unmoving. And while there are few grand changes in the piece (there are two distinct sides but this is a comfortably continuous record) it never gets dull or static, not even for a second. Don't call it ambient - "Meith" needs to be listened to as closely as possible for maximum enjoyment. In fact it's often the quietest, most unexpected sounds that end up enthralling us the most. Pure outerzone business.
Quickly following July's murky "Swamps/Things", GRM director François J. Bonnet aka Kassel Jaeger returns with an unsettlingly organic slab of smudgy, flickering drone for Oren Ambarchi's Black Truffle imprint.
Anyone who heard summer's "Swamps/Things" should know broadly what to expect, but "Meith" is lighter and more subtle than its predecessor. The fusion of careful, evocative field recordings and slender, wavering drones is still at the center of Bonnet's craft, but working in strict long-form, the composer lets things unfold at an even slower pace. The devotional time dilation of organ music (see also Kali Malone's "The Sacrificial Code") is an obvious reference, and Bonnet uses this baseline to distance himself from the dusty academic practices that have haunted experimental electronic music for decades.
"Meith" is teeming with life; at times it sounds like tiny entities are crawling in and out of his undulating tones, burrowing and scurrying around the sparse notes. Like the resonant tones of a pipe organ, no drone feels static or unmoving. And while there are few grand changes in the piece (there are two distinct sides but this is a comfortably continuous record) it never gets dull or static, not even for a second. Don't call it ambient - "Meith" needs to be listened to as closely as possible for maximum enjoyment. In fact it's often the quietest, most unexpected sounds that end up enthralling us the most. Pure outerzone business.
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Quickly following July's murky "Swamps/Things", GRM director François J. Bonnet aka Kassel Jaeger returns with an unsettlingly organic slab of smudgy, flickering drone for Oren Ambarchi's Black Truffle imprint.
Anyone who heard summer's "Swamps/Things" should know broadly what to expect, but "Meith" is lighter and more subtle than its predecessor. The fusion of careful, evocative field recordings and slender, wavering drones is still at the center of Bonnet's craft, but working in strict long-form, the composer lets things unfold at an even slower pace. The devotional time dilation of organ music (see also Kali Malone's "The Sacrificial Code") is an obvious reference, and Bonnet uses this baseline to distance himself from the dusty academic practices that have haunted experimental electronic music for decades.
"Meith" is teeming with life; at times it sounds like tiny entities are crawling in and out of his undulating tones, burrowing and scurrying around the sparse notes. Like the resonant tones of a pipe organ, no drone feels static or unmoving. And while there are few grand changes in the piece (there are two distinct sides but this is a comfortably continuous record) it never gets dull or static, not even for a second. Don't call it ambient - "Meith" needs to be listened to as closely as possible for maximum enjoyment. In fact it's often the quietest, most unexpected sounds that end up enthralling us the most. Pure outerzone business.