Recorded back in 2006, this album from Rutger Zudervelt must stand as a comparatively early entry into his prodigious catalogue, yet so many of the defining elements of his sound are present in this three-part set. The guitars, field recordings and micro-drones are all present and correct, spread out lucidly across thirty-five minutes. I say lucidly, yet the opening moments secret themselves away at the infrasonic end of the sound spectrum, only clearly making their presence felt when you pause and un-pause the track, causing a pronounced click. A bit of heavy volume cranking reveals a stealthy sub-bass tone that you feel rather than hear, but beware the sudden eruption of percussive guitar harmonics at around 1:20. It's a sudden jolt in amplitude, ushering in the album proper. From here on, brooding ambiguous tones unfurl while high frequency blips pace out a pulse, until the guitar takes over altogether, drifting and fizzling away a little like the title track to David Sylvian's Blemish album. By this first piece's close, clicky contact mic textures lend your ear a more tactile, percussive focus before the second track offers a more immersive, in-depth listen, pieced together from filtered, reverberant string-like samples - much as you might hear on a Biosphere recording. At the risk of putting it too plainly, this is a very good bit indeed. More high frequency textures frame the final moments, leading us into the slightly noisier, bolder climes of the third section, which through certain stages sounds like a distant thunder storm. The booming, cloudy sonorities broaden the magnitude of the piece considerably, as if these airy tones are dissolving off into the horizon. Finally, tiny rhythms emerge, scratching and fizzing the album to a close. Strong material as ever from the prolific Dutchman, taking on a highly musical character despite the very minimal, disciplined sound set it's constructed from. Gorgeous.
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Recorded back in 2006, this album from Rutger Zudervelt must stand as a comparatively early entry into his prodigious catalogue, yet so many of the defining elements of his sound are present in this three-part set. The guitars, field recordings and micro-drones are all present and correct, spread out lucidly across thirty-five minutes. I say lucidly, yet the opening moments secret themselves away at the infrasonic end of the sound spectrum, only clearly making their presence felt when you pause and un-pause the track, causing a pronounced click. A bit of heavy volume cranking reveals a stealthy sub-bass tone that you feel rather than hear, but beware the sudden eruption of percussive guitar harmonics at around 1:20. It's a sudden jolt in amplitude, ushering in the album proper. From here on, brooding ambiguous tones unfurl while high frequency blips pace out a pulse, until the guitar takes over altogether, drifting and fizzling away a little like the title track to David Sylvian's Blemish album. By this first piece's close, clicky contact mic textures lend your ear a more tactile, percussive focus before the second track offers a more immersive, in-depth listen, pieced together from filtered, reverberant string-like samples - much as you might hear on a Biosphere recording. At the risk of putting it too plainly, this is a very good bit indeed. More high frequency textures frame the final moments, leading us into the slightly noisier, bolder climes of the third section, which through certain stages sounds like a distant thunder storm. The booming, cloudy sonorities broaden the magnitude of the piece considerably, as if these airy tones are dissolving off into the horizon. Finally, tiny rhythms emerge, scratching and fizzing the album to a close. Strong material as ever from the prolific Dutchman, taking on a highly musical character despite the very minimal, disciplined sound set it's constructed from. Gorgeous.
Recorded back in 2006, this album from Rutger Zudervelt must stand as a comparatively early entry into his prodigious catalogue, yet so many of the defining elements of his sound are present in this three-part set. The guitars, field recordings and micro-drones are all present and correct, spread out lucidly across thirty-five minutes. I say lucidly, yet the opening moments secret themselves away at the infrasonic end of the sound spectrum, only clearly making their presence felt when you pause and un-pause the track, causing a pronounced click. A bit of heavy volume cranking reveals a stealthy sub-bass tone that you feel rather than hear, but beware the sudden eruption of percussive guitar harmonics at around 1:20. It's a sudden jolt in amplitude, ushering in the album proper. From here on, brooding ambiguous tones unfurl while high frequency blips pace out a pulse, until the guitar takes over altogether, drifting and fizzling away a little like the title track to David Sylvian's Blemish album. By this first piece's close, clicky contact mic textures lend your ear a more tactile, percussive focus before the second track offers a more immersive, in-depth listen, pieced together from filtered, reverberant string-like samples - much as you might hear on a Biosphere recording. At the risk of putting it too plainly, this is a very good bit indeed. More high frequency textures frame the final moments, leading us into the slightly noisier, bolder climes of the third section, which through certain stages sounds like a distant thunder storm. The booming, cloudy sonorities broaden the magnitude of the piece considerably, as if these airy tones are dissolving off into the horizon. Finally, tiny rhythms emerge, scratching and fizzing the album to a close. Strong material as ever from the prolific Dutchman, taking on a highly musical character despite the very minimal, disciplined sound set it's constructed from. Gorgeous.