A hypnotic study of temporality that braids together a deliriously cryptic sequence of interconnected vignettes, Byron Westbrook's Shelter Press debut is his most mesmerizing album to date - a set of electroacoustic pieces that advances the rough blueprints laid out by legends like Maryanne Amacher, Bernard Parmegiani and Luc Ferrari.
Westbrook's last album, the Ash International-released 'Mirror Views', knocked us sideways; unlike the Los Angeles-based artist's previous records, it was a delirious long-form study that evolved slowly over 72 minutes, camouflaging its poignant real-world soundscapes with feedback tones and psychedelic white noise. On 'Translucents', he tightens his method by unsettling the spectrum with eloquent unprocessed environmental recordings and psychoacoustic trickery. Like its predecessor, it's a single long-form composition, but this time Westbrook bounces from idea to idea with manic glee, joining the dots between vintage synthwork, durational drone, heady electroacoustic installation work and euphoric, (nearly) new age ambience.
The album is intended to provoke the listener into considering the act of listening itself, and Westbrook achieves this by using dramatic set pieces that prevent the music from fading into the background. His vignettes start and stop unexpectedly, cutting abruptly to nauseous negative space and then exploding like a sonic hand grenade. But the composition is never completely jarring - we're being treated to a radio play of sorts that's able to drag us through electroacoustic history while nudging us gently towards the future. 'Translucents' started life in 2016 when Westbrook was stationed at Stockholm's Elektronmusikstudion and given access to the Serge and Buchla 200 modular systems. He spent the next seven years tweaking and recomposing his initial synth sketches, adding microscopically detailed industrial and natural world recordings and spatializing the results.
His general concept was to use sound to explore "the experiential phenomena of time" by using a single composition to bind together radically different temporal elements. So we're hit by dizzy rhythmic sequences that shimmer into glacial ambience, and environmental snapshots that can't help but confuse things further. At some points, it's hard to work out exactly what you're hearing: scratches and rumbles flutter into gaseous exhalations and distant dance muzak bellows over oddly-tuned glassy whines. Westbrook is goading us into concentration, not by encouraging deep listening exactly - this isn't all barely-perceptible tonal changes, by any means - but by using bold dynamics, sonic illusions and clever musical rhymes.
It's a composition that echoes constantly, but never repeats itself. A gurgling multi-rhythmic synth element might be followed by ratcheting machine sounds that cast the mind back, but prompt us to consider the tempo that governs the entire piece, not its individual elements. Every time we've played it, we've heard something completely different, and that's not an easy task - if you're at all interested in electroacoustic music, 'Translucents' is just about as good as it gets.
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A hypnotic study of temporality that braids together a deliriously cryptic sequence of interconnected vignettes, Byron Westbrook's Shelter Press debut is his most mesmerizing album to date - a set of electroacoustic pieces that advances the rough blueprints laid out by legends like Maryanne Amacher, Bernard Parmegiani and Luc Ferrari.
Westbrook's last album, the Ash International-released 'Mirror Views', knocked us sideways; unlike the Los Angeles-based artist's previous records, it was a delirious long-form study that evolved slowly over 72 minutes, camouflaging its poignant real-world soundscapes with feedback tones and psychedelic white noise. On 'Translucents', he tightens his method by unsettling the spectrum with eloquent unprocessed environmental recordings and psychoacoustic trickery. Like its predecessor, it's a single long-form composition, but this time Westbrook bounces from idea to idea with manic glee, joining the dots between vintage synthwork, durational drone, heady electroacoustic installation work and euphoric, (nearly) new age ambience.
The album is intended to provoke the listener into considering the act of listening itself, and Westbrook achieves this by using dramatic set pieces that prevent the music from fading into the background. His vignettes start and stop unexpectedly, cutting abruptly to nauseous negative space and then exploding like a sonic hand grenade. But the composition is never completely jarring - we're being treated to a radio play of sorts that's able to drag us through electroacoustic history while nudging us gently towards the future. 'Translucents' started life in 2016 when Westbrook was stationed at Stockholm's Elektronmusikstudion and given access to the Serge and Buchla 200 modular systems. He spent the next seven years tweaking and recomposing his initial synth sketches, adding microscopically detailed industrial and natural world recordings and spatializing the results.
His general concept was to use sound to explore "the experiential phenomena of time" by using a single composition to bind together radically different temporal elements. So we're hit by dizzy rhythmic sequences that shimmer into glacial ambience, and environmental snapshots that can't help but confuse things further. At some points, it's hard to work out exactly what you're hearing: scratches and rumbles flutter into gaseous exhalations and distant dance muzak bellows over oddly-tuned glassy whines. Westbrook is goading us into concentration, not by encouraging deep listening exactly - this isn't all barely-perceptible tonal changes, by any means - but by using bold dynamics, sonic illusions and clever musical rhymes.
It's a composition that echoes constantly, but never repeats itself. A gurgling multi-rhythmic synth element might be followed by ratcheting machine sounds that cast the mind back, but prompt us to consider the tempo that governs the entire piece, not its individual elements. Every time we've played it, we've heard something completely different, and that's not an easy task - if you're at all interested in electroacoustic music, 'Translucents' is just about as good as it gets.
A hypnotic study of temporality that braids together a deliriously cryptic sequence of interconnected vignettes, Byron Westbrook's Shelter Press debut is his most mesmerizing album to date - a set of electroacoustic pieces that advances the rough blueprints laid out by legends like Maryanne Amacher, Bernard Parmegiani and Luc Ferrari.
Westbrook's last album, the Ash International-released 'Mirror Views', knocked us sideways; unlike the Los Angeles-based artist's previous records, it was a delirious long-form study that evolved slowly over 72 minutes, camouflaging its poignant real-world soundscapes with feedback tones and psychedelic white noise. On 'Translucents', he tightens his method by unsettling the spectrum with eloquent unprocessed environmental recordings and psychoacoustic trickery. Like its predecessor, it's a single long-form composition, but this time Westbrook bounces from idea to idea with manic glee, joining the dots between vintage synthwork, durational drone, heady electroacoustic installation work and euphoric, (nearly) new age ambience.
The album is intended to provoke the listener into considering the act of listening itself, and Westbrook achieves this by using dramatic set pieces that prevent the music from fading into the background. His vignettes start and stop unexpectedly, cutting abruptly to nauseous negative space and then exploding like a sonic hand grenade. But the composition is never completely jarring - we're being treated to a radio play of sorts that's able to drag us through electroacoustic history while nudging us gently towards the future. 'Translucents' started life in 2016 when Westbrook was stationed at Stockholm's Elektronmusikstudion and given access to the Serge and Buchla 200 modular systems. He spent the next seven years tweaking and recomposing his initial synth sketches, adding microscopically detailed industrial and natural world recordings and spatializing the results.
His general concept was to use sound to explore "the experiential phenomena of time" by using a single composition to bind together radically different temporal elements. So we're hit by dizzy rhythmic sequences that shimmer into glacial ambience, and environmental snapshots that can't help but confuse things further. At some points, it's hard to work out exactly what you're hearing: scratches and rumbles flutter into gaseous exhalations and distant dance muzak bellows over oddly-tuned glassy whines. Westbrook is goading us into concentration, not by encouraging deep listening exactly - this isn't all barely-perceptible tonal changes, by any means - but by using bold dynamics, sonic illusions and clever musical rhymes.
It's a composition that echoes constantly, but never repeats itself. A gurgling multi-rhythmic synth element might be followed by ratcheting machine sounds that cast the mind back, but prompt us to consider the tempo that governs the entire piece, not its individual elements. Every time we've played it, we've heard something completely different, and that's not an easy task - if you're at all interested in electroacoustic music, 'Translucents' is just about as good as it gets.
A hypnotic study of temporality that braids together a deliriously cryptic sequence of interconnected vignettes, Byron Westbrook's Shelter Press debut is his most mesmerizing album to date - a set of electroacoustic pieces that advances the rough blueprints laid out by legends like Maryanne Amacher, Bernard Parmegiani and Luc Ferrari.
Westbrook's last album, the Ash International-released 'Mirror Views', knocked us sideways; unlike the Los Angeles-based artist's previous records, it was a delirious long-form study that evolved slowly over 72 minutes, camouflaging its poignant real-world soundscapes with feedback tones and psychedelic white noise. On 'Translucents', he tightens his method by unsettling the spectrum with eloquent unprocessed environmental recordings and psychoacoustic trickery. Like its predecessor, it's a single long-form composition, but this time Westbrook bounces from idea to idea with manic glee, joining the dots between vintage synthwork, durational drone, heady electroacoustic installation work and euphoric, (nearly) new age ambience.
The album is intended to provoke the listener into considering the act of listening itself, and Westbrook achieves this by using dramatic set pieces that prevent the music from fading into the background. His vignettes start and stop unexpectedly, cutting abruptly to nauseous negative space and then exploding like a sonic hand grenade. But the composition is never completely jarring - we're being treated to a radio play of sorts that's able to drag us through electroacoustic history while nudging us gently towards the future. 'Translucents' started life in 2016 when Westbrook was stationed at Stockholm's Elektronmusikstudion and given access to the Serge and Buchla 200 modular systems. He spent the next seven years tweaking and recomposing his initial synth sketches, adding microscopically detailed industrial and natural world recordings and spatializing the results.
His general concept was to use sound to explore "the experiential phenomena of time" by using a single composition to bind together radically different temporal elements. So we're hit by dizzy rhythmic sequences that shimmer into glacial ambience, and environmental snapshots that can't help but confuse things further. At some points, it's hard to work out exactly what you're hearing: scratches and rumbles flutter into gaseous exhalations and distant dance muzak bellows over oddly-tuned glassy whines. Westbrook is goading us into concentration, not by encouraging deep listening exactly - this isn't all barely-perceptible tonal changes, by any means - but by using bold dynamics, sonic illusions and clever musical rhymes.
It's a composition that echoes constantly, but never repeats itself. A gurgling multi-rhythmic synth element might be followed by ratcheting machine sounds that cast the mind back, but prompt us to consider the tempo that governs the entire piece, not its individual elements. Every time we've played it, we've heard something completely different, and that's not an easy task - if you're at all interested in electroacoustic music, 'Translucents' is just about as good as it gets.
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Printed inner and outer sleeves with gloss varnish, includes a16-page suite of photographs and an essay by the composer, plus a download of the album dropped to your account.
A hypnotic study of temporality that braids together a deliriously cryptic sequence of interconnected vignettes, Byron Westbrook's Shelter Press debut is his most mesmerizing album to date - a set of electroacoustic pieces that advances the rough blueprints laid out by legends like Maryanne Amacher, Bernard Parmegiani and Luc Ferrari.
Westbrook's last album, the Ash International-released 'Mirror Views', knocked us sideways; unlike the Los Angeles-based artist's previous records, it was a delirious long-form study that evolved slowly over 72 minutes, camouflaging its poignant real-world soundscapes with feedback tones and psychedelic white noise. On 'Translucents', he tightens his method by unsettling the spectrum with eloquent unprocessed environmental recordings and psychoacoustic trickery. Like its predecessor, it's a single long-form composition, but this time Westbrook bounces from idea to idea with manic glee, joining the dots between vintage synthwork, durational drone, heady electroacoustic installation work and euphoric, (nearly) new age ambience.
The album is intended to provoke the listener into considering the act of listening itself, and Westbrook achieves this by using dramatic set pieces that prevent the music from fading into the background. His vignettes start and stop unexpectedly, cutting abruptly to nauseous negative space and then exploding like a sonic hand grenade. But the composition is never completely jarring - we're being treated to a radio play of sorts that's able to drag us through electroacoustic history while nudging us gently towards the future. 'Translucents' started life in 2016 when Westbrook was stationed at Stockholm's Elektronmusikstudion and given access to the Serge and Buchla 200 modular systems. He spent the next seven years tweaking and recomposing his initial synth sketches, adding microscopically detailed industrial and natural world recordings and spatializing the results.
His general concept was to use sound to explore "the experiential phenomena of time" by using a single composition to bind together radically different temporal elements. So we're hit by dizzy rhythmic sequences that shimmer into glacial ambience, and environmental snapshots that can't help but confuse things further. At some points, it's hard to work out exactly what you're hearing: scratches and rumbles flutter into gaseous exhalations and distant dance muzak bellows over oddly-tuned glassy whines. Westbrook is goading us into concentration, not by encouraging deep listening exactly - this isn't all barely-perceptible tonal changes, by any means - but by using bold dynamics, sonic illusions and clever musical rhymes.
It's a composition that echoes constantly, but never repeats itself. A gurgling multi-rhythmic synth element might be followed by ratcheting machine sounds that cast the mind back, but prompt us to consider the tempo that governs the entire piece, not its individual elements. Every time we've played it, we've heard something completely different, and that's not an easy task - if you're at all interested in electroacoustic music, 'Translucents' is just about as good as it gets.