Susana Santos Silva & Alexandra Nilsson
Radio Two
Superpang scout the outer limits with a throwdown for trumpet and computer by Portuguese avant-player Silva and her Stockholm spar Nilsson
One to ping the pleasure centres of noisy nuts, ‘Radio Two’ pits brass and electronics in unpredictably inventive forms at the esteemed EMS institution. While Susanna Santos Silva has been knocking out releases with everyone from Fred Frith Trio to the Matière Mémoire label for a decade now, this is technically Alexandra Nilsson’s first release with her name at the top. They combine in various free strategies spanning spittle-inflected extended trumpet tekkerz and course, bristling noise on ‘Bagua’ to 10 minute of woozily smeared wind overtones and sibilant loops on ‘The Diving Bell And The Butterfly’, which reflects the locked-in, discomfiting nature of the film that like gave the piece its title.
They do proper convulsive shred in ‘Blue’; and more sensuously rhythmic burbles on ‘Carnaval in Svalbard’, while ‘ Messier 86’ sounds like Hassell channelling Haswell’s flies-on-a-corpse recordings and ‘Quasar’ resembles a distressed bagpiper in its resonant dissonance.
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Superpang scout the outer limits with a throwdown for trumpet and computer by Portuguese avant-player Silva and her Stockholm spar Nilsson
One to ping the pleasure centres of noisy nuts, ‘Radio Two’ pits brass and electronics in unpredictably inventive forms at the esteemed EMS institution. While Susanna Santos Silva has been knocking out releases with everyone from Fred Frith Trio to the Matière Mémoire label for a decade now, this is technically Alexandra Nilsson’s first release with her name at the top. They combine in various free strategies spanning spittle-inflected extended trumpet tekkerz and course, bristling noise on ‘Bagua’ to 10 minute of woozily smeared wind overtones and sibilant loops on ‘The Diving Bell And The Butterfly’, which reflects the locked-in, discomfiting nature of the film that like gave the piece its title.
They do proper convulsive shred in ‘Blue’; and more sensuously rhythmic burbles on ‘Carnaval in Svalbard’, while ‘ Messier 86’ sounds like Hassell channelling Haswell’s flies-on-a-corpse recordings and ‘Quasar’ resembles a distressed bagpiper in its resonant dissonance.
Superpang scout the outer limits with a throwdown for trumpet and computer by Portuguese avant-player Silva and her Stockholm spar Nilsson
One to ping the pleasure centres of noisy nuts, ‘Radio Two’ pits brass and electronics in unpredictably inventive forms at the esteemed EMS institution. While Susanna Santos Silva has been knocking out releases with everyone from Fred Frith Trio to the Matière Mémoire label for a decade now, this is technically Alexandra Nilsson’s first release with her name at the top. They combine in various free strategies spanning spittle-inflected extended trumpet tekkerz and course, bristling noise on ‘Bagua’ to 10 minute of woozily smeared wind overtones and sibilant loops on ‘The Diving Bell And The Butterfly’, which reflects the locked-in, discomfiting nature of the film that like gave the piece its title.
They do proper convulsive shred in ‘Blue’; and more sensuously rhythmic burbles on ‘Carnaval in Svalbard’, while ‘ Messier 86’ sounds like Hassell channelling Haswell’s flies-on-a-corpse recordings and ‘Quasar’ resembles a distressed bagpiper in its resonant dissonance.
Superpang scout the outer limits with a throwdown for trumpet and computer by Portuguese avant-player Silva and her Stockholm spar Nilsson
One to ping the pleasure centres of noisy nuts, ‘Radio Two’ pits brass and electronics in unpredictably inventive forms at the esteemed EMS institution. While Susanna Santos Silva has been knocking out releases with everyone from Fred Frith Trio to the Matière Mémoire label for a decade now, this is technically Alexandra Nilsson’s first release with her name at the top. They combine in various free strategies spanning spittle-inflected extended trumpet tekkerz and course, bristling noise on ‘Bagua’ to 10 minute of woozily smeared wind overtones and sibilant loops on ‘The Diving Bell And The Butterfly’, which reflects the locked-in, discomfiting nature of the film that like gave the piece its title.
They do proper convulsive shred in ‘Blue’; and more sensuously rhythmic burbles on ‘Carnaval in Svalbard’, while ‘ Messier 86’ sounds like Hassell channelling Haswell’s flies-on-a-corpse recordings and ‘Quasar’ resembles a distressed bagpiper in its resonant dissonance.