Boomkat Product Review:
A flipping big yes to this cranky AF, heavily-cut-up concrète beating recorded in 1963 by Karel Appel - a Dutch artist, who, as he exclaims, “I Do Not Paint / I Hit!”, and is best known for his abstract-expressionist “hits” since the ‘50s. That’s him looking like an Audint member on the front cover, and going ham on the kettle drums on the back. What a guy?!
Sounding something like Sun Ra meets Gottfried Michael Koenig for a noisy night ‘round Varèse’s place, Musique Barbare Van Karel Appel is a raucous and captivatingly unhinged blow-out transposing Appel’s intuitive, inner-child-like approach to the traditional canvas onto a sonic backdrop of wild, beat-up drums, electronic devices, and hacked-up varispeed tape FX at the University of Utrecht.
It’s never been reissued since the original release in 1963, and therefore trades for a lot of money 2nd hand to those in the know; which isn’t us by the way - meaning it’s landing some serious punches on our unsuspecting bonce.
With a sense of unadulterated, unquantised freedom akin to Harry Bertoia’s also-just-reissued Sonambient collection, Appel treats his palette with a shockingly loose and tactile fashion, sending keys and careening drums skittering down flights of imagined stairs to explosive impact zones and frantic junctures of jagged, non-melodic colour.
There’s three pieces, each as mad as the next, sending us spiralling from the arrhythmic playtime of Paysage Electronique to the hoarse holler and relatively concise, proto-No Wave jammer Poème Barbare, and, a full side roll-out of crashing timpani, wigged-out organ fiyah and spoken word in Le Cavalier Blanc.
You can safely consider our minds blown, and take that as a warning/heavy-recommendation for your own swede.