KMRU extends 2022's 'Temporary Stored', a bold decolonial exercise that re-appropriates "stolen sounds" collected from the Royal Museum of Central Africa's archives, with a new composition and a set of additional responses from Jessica Ekomane, Aho Ssan, Lamin Fofana, Nyokabi Kariũki.
The European cultural landscape has long been blighted by its extraction processes - the lifting of artifacts from outside countries for fetishistic display to unconnected locals. These histories aren't simply decorative, or even just educational, they're often part of a spiritual present, made to be passed on and understood by successive generations so that they are able to live in an evolving cultural backdrop of their own. KMRU doesn't attempt to right the wrongs of the past with 'Temporary Stored', but reconsider the purpose of the archive of sounds he was given access to at Tervuren's museum. And his responses are respectful; he doesn't carve into the rituals, rhythms and melodies, he adds contemporary context. It's a conversation with history that's all too aware of the institutional art world's Eurocentric bias and attempts to wrest back a narrative that's been purposefully obscured, using gentle processes, dreamy synths and responsive field recordings to meditate on the past - and look towards the future.
KMRU's choice of collaborators is equally thoughtful. He bundles the original set of six recordings with five more, the first of which comes from New York-based producer Lamin Fofana, who follows his ace recent run on TTT, Honest Jon's and Peak Oil with the thoughtful 'Intimacies of Affliction'. Like KMRU, Fofana zeroes in on the bluest emotions, setting pensive keys in marshy, saturated environmental recordings, and in the track's final act, we get to hear an echoing song fragment that helps join the dots. Kenyan composer Nyokabi Kariũki cleverly makes use of the archive's identifying stings and dated ethnographic commentaries on 'Item no. ______', creating a spine-chilling sonic auction that she augments with swirling vocals and pounding, distorted drums. And on 'MR.2023.9.5-A3', Jessica Ekomane resynthesizes what sounds like a string instrument, using its rubbery prang to draw attention to the constantly shifting rhythm. Aho Ssan meanwhile brings back memories of his noisy KMRU collaboration 'Limen' on 'They Heard Us', drowning out flute sounds and stirring vocals with waves of digital grit, and KMRU finishes his set with 'Entangled', a dubby blend of haunted acoustic clangs and pillowy synths.
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KMRU extends 2022's 'Temporary Stored', a bold decolonial exercise that re-appropriates "stolen sounds" collected from the Royal Museum of Central Africa's archives, with a new composition and a set of additional responses from Jessica Ekomane, Aho Ssan, Lamin Fofana, Nyokabi Kariũki.
The European cultural landscape has long been blighted by its extraction processes - the lifting of artifacts from outside countries for fetishistic display to unconnected locals. These histories aren't simply decorative, or even just educational, they're often part of a spiritual present, made to be passed on and understood by successive generations so that they are able to live in an evolving cultural backdrop of their own. KMRU doesn't attempt to right the wrongs of the past with 'Temporary Stored', but reconsider the purpose of the archive of sounds he was given access to at Tervuren's museum. And his responses are respectful; he doesn't carve into the rituals, rhythms and melodies, he adds contemporary context. It's a conversation with history that's all too aware of the institutional art world's Eurocentric bias and attempts to wrest back a narrative that's been purposefully obscured, using gentle processes, dreamy synths and responsive field recordings to meditate on the past - and look towards the future.
KMRU's choice of collaborators is equally thoughtful. He bundles the original set of six recordings with five more, the first of which comes from New York-based producer Lamin Fofana, who follows his ace recent run on TTT, Honest Jon's and Peak Oil with the thoughtful 'Intimacies of Affliction'. Like KMRU, Fofana zeroes in on the bluest emotions, setting pensive keys in marshy, saturated environmental recordings, and in the track's final act, we get to hear an echoing song fragment that helps join the dots. Kenyan composer Nyokabi Kariũki cleverly makes use of the archive's identifying stings and dated ethnographic commentaries on 'Item no. ______', creating a spine-chilling sonic auction that she augments with swirling vocals and pounding, distorted drums. And on 'MR.2023.9.5-A3', Jessica Ekomane resynthesizes what sounds like a string instrument, using its rubbery prang to draw attention to the constantly shifting rhythm. Aho Ssan meanwhile brings back memories of his noisy KMRU collaboration 'Limen' on 'They Heard Us', drowning out flute sounds and stirring vocals with waves of digital grit, and KMRU finishes his set with 'Entangled', a dubby blend of haunted acoustic clangs and pillowy synths.
KMRU extends 2022's 'Temporary Stored', a bold decolonial exercise that re-appropriates "stolen sounds" collected from the Royal Museum of Central Africa's archives, with a new composition and a set of additional responses from Jessica Ekomane, Aho Ssan, Lamin Fofana, Nyokabi Kariũki.
The European cultural landscape has long been blighted by its extraction processes - the lifting of artifacts from outside countries for fetishistic display to unconnected locals. These histories aren't simply decorative, or even just educational, they're often part of a spiritual present, made to be passed on and understood by successive generations so that they are able to live in an evolving cultural backdrop of their own. KMRU doesn't attempt to right the wrongs of the past with 'Temporary Stored', but reconsider the purpose of the archive of sounds he was given access to at Tervuren's museum. And his responses are respectful; he doesn't carve into the rituals, rhythms and melodies, he adds contemporary context. It's a conversation with history that's all too aware of the institutional art world's Eurocentric bias and attempts to wrest back a narrative that's been purposefully obscured, using gentle processes, dreamy synths and responsive field recordings to meditate on the past - and look towards the future.
KMRU's choice of collaborators is equally thoughtful. He bundles the original set of six recordings with five more, the first of which comes from New York-based producer Lamin Fofana, who follows his ace recent run on TTT, Honest Jon's and Peak Oil with the thoughtful 'Intimacies of Affliction'. Like KMRU, Fofana zeroes in on the bluest emotions, setting pensive keys in marshy, saturated environmental recordings, and in the track's final act, we get to hear an echoing song fragment that helps join the dots. Kenyan composer Nyokabi Kariũki cleverly makes use of the archive's identifying stings and dated ethnographic commentaries on 'Item no. ______', creating a spine-chilling sonic auction that she augments with swirling vocals and pounding, distorted drums. And on 'MR.2023.9.5-A3', Jessica Ekomane resynthesizes what sounds like a string instrument, using its rubbery prang to draw attention to the constantly shifting rhythm. Aho Ssan meanwhile brings back memories of his noisy KMRU collaboration 'Limen' on 'They Heard Us', drowning out flute sounds and stirring vocals with waves of digital grit, and KMRU finishes his set with 'Entangled', a dubby blend of haunted acoustic clangs and pillowy synths.
KMRU extends 2022's 'Temporary Stored', a bold decolonial exercise that re-appropriates "stolen sounds" collected from the Royal Museum of Central Africa's archives, with a new composition and a set of additional responses from Jessica Ekomane, Aho Ssan, Lamin Fofana, Nyokabi Kariũki.
The European cultural landscape has long been blighted by its extraction processes - the lifting of artifacts from outside countries for fetishistic display to unconnected locals. These histories aren't simply decorative, or even just educational, they're often part of a spiritual present, made to be passed on and understood by successive generations so that they are able to live in an evolving cultural backdrop of their own. KMRU doesn't attempt to right the wrongs of the past with 'Temporary Stored', but reconsider the purpose of the archive of sounds he was given access to at Tervuren's museum. And his responses are respectful; he doesn't carve into the rituals, rhythms and melodies, he adds contemporary context. It's a conversation with history that's all too aware of the institutional art world's Eurocentric bias and attempts to wrest back a narrative that's been purposefully obscured, using gentle processes, dreamy synths and responsive field recordings to meditate on the past - and look towards the future.
KMRU's choice of collaborators is equally thoughtful. He bundles the original set of six recordings with five more, the first of which comes from New York-based producer Lamin Fofana, who follows his ace recent run on TTT, Honest Jon's and Peak Oil with the thoughtful 'Intimacies of Affliction'. Like KMRU, Fofana zeroes in on the bluest emotions, setting pensive keys in marshy, saturated environmental recordings, and in the track's final act, we get to hear an echoing song fragment that helps join the dots. Kenyan composer Nyokabi Kariũki cleverly makes use of the archive's identifying stings and dated ethnographic commentaries on 'Item no. ______', creating a spine-chilling sonic auction that she augments with swirling vocals and pounding, distorted drums. And on 'MR.2023.9.5-A3', Jessica Ekomane resynthesizes what sounds like a string instrument, using its rubbery prang to draw attention to the constantly shifting rhythm. Aho Ssan meanwhile brings back memories of his noisy KMRU collaboration 'Limen' on 'They Heard Us', drowning out flute sounds and stirring vocals with waves of digital grit, and KMRU finishes his set with 'Entangled', a dubby blend of haunted acoustic clangs and pillowy synths.
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KMRU extends 2022's 'Temporary Stored', a bold decolonial exercise that re-appropriates "stolen sounds" collected from the Royal Museum of Central Africa's archives, with a new composition and a set of additional responses from Jessica Ekomane, Aho Ssan, Lamin Fofana, Nyokabi Kariũki.
The European cultural landscape has long been blighted by its extraction processes - the lifting of artifacts from outside countries for fetishistic display to unconnected locals. These histories aren't simply decorative, or even just educational, they're often part of a spiritual present, made to be passed on and understood by successive generations so that they are able to live in an evolving cultural backdrop of their own. KMRU doesn't attempt to right the wrongs of the past with 'Temporary Stored', but reconsider the purpose of the archive of sounds he was given access to at Tervuren's museum. And his responses are respectful; he doesn't carve into the rituals, rhythms and melodies, he adds contemporary context. It's a conversation with history that's all too aware of the institutional art world's Eurocentric bias and attempts to wrest back a narrative that's been purposefully obscured, using gentle processes, dreamy synths and responsive field recordings to meditate on the past - and look towards the future.
KMRU's choice of collaborators is equally thoughtful. He bundles the original set of six recordings with five more, the first of which comes from New York-based producer Lamin Fofana, who follows his ace recent run on TTT, Honest Jon's and Peak Oil with the thoughtful 'Intimacies of Affliction'. Like KMRU, Fofana zeroes in on the bluest emotions, setting pensive keys in marshy, saturated environmental recordings, and in the track's final act, we get to hear an echoing song fragment that helps join the dots. Kenyan composer Nyokabi Kariũki cleverly makes use of the archive's identifying stings and dated ethnographic commentaries on 'Item no. ______', creating a spine-chilling sonic auction that she augments with swirling vocals and pounding, distorted drums. And on 'MR.2023.9.5-A3', Jessica Ekomane resynthesizes what sounds like a string instrument, using its rubbery prang to draw attention to the constantly shifting rhythm. Aho Ssan meanwhile brings back memories of his noisy KMRU collaboration 'Limen' on 'They Heard Us', drowning out flute sounds and stirring vocals with waves of digital grit, and KMRU finishes his set with 'Entangled', a dubby blend of haunted acoustic clangs and pillowy synths.