Brilliant electronic explorations from Konrad Jandavs aka No UFO's following up a smattering of really strong releases for Spectrum Spools, Public Information and Nice Up Int’l a few years back, returning here with his debut album proper for the always-excellent Root Strata imprint.
Making use of a range of tape machines, foley libraries and rare synthesisers; this album is a curious thing, slowly probing the listeners perception of space, texture and tone with aleatoric enigma that goes from suffocating to blissful from one moment to the next. It’s a trick that’s first evident on the opening Apocryphal Blues, wherein a dense fog of simmering drone and found sounds abruptly give way at the 100 second mark to emotive shafts of light, delicate pads and washes of sound transporting you to the haze of a summer morning. And then, all too suddenly, you hear the tape spool grind to a halt and we’re back in the midst of an apocalyptic tableau.
The rest of the album carries on in this vein, from intricate concrète passages that sound like the most terrifying Italian Library recordings ever committed to wax, to sudden displays of emotional vulnerability - such as on the simple but magnificent Classic NU Shit - sounding like the more fxcked-up elder sibling of Boards of Canada, accompanied by intimate found sounds that could have been recorded 50 years ago for all the little they give away.
The more you listen to this album the more you get sucked into Jandavs’ very peculiar sonic vocabulary, constructed with a myriad microscopic elements, yet somehow managing to avoid sounding like a sterile academic exercise. As such, it ultimately makes for one of the most unique and satisfying quiet electronic albums of the year thus far.
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Brilliant electronic explorations from Konrad Jandavs aka No UFO's following up a smattering of really strong releases for Spectrum Spools, Public Information and Nice Up Int’l a few years back, returning here with his debut album proper for the always-excellent Root Strata imprint.
Making use of a range of tape machines, foley libraries and rare synthesisers; this album is a curious thing, slowly probing the listeners perception of space, texture and tone with aleatoric enigma that goes from suffocating to blissful from one moment to the next. It’s a trick that’s first evident on the opening Apocryphal Blues, wherein a dense fog of simmering drone and found sounds abruptly give way at the 100 second mark to emotive shafts of light, delicate pads and washes of sound transporting you to the haze of a summer morning. And then, all too suddenly, you hear the tape spool grind to a halt and we’re back in the midst of an apocalyptic tableau.
The rest of the album carries on in this vein, from intricate concrète passages that sound like the most terrifying Italian Library recordings ever committed to wax, to sudden displays of emotional vulnerability - such as on the simple but magnificent Classic NU Shit - sounding like the more fxcked-up elder sibling of Boards of Canada, accompanied by intimate found sounds that could have been recorded 50 years ago for all the little they give away.
The more you listen to this album the more you get sucked into Jandavs’ very peculiar sonic vocabulary, constructed with a myriad microscopic elements, yet somehow managing to avoid sounding like a sterile academic exercise. As such, it ultimately makes for one of the most unique and satisfying quiet electronic albums of the year thus far.