Fabled Western Mass percussionist Jake Meginsky channels the teachings of his late mentor Milford Graves on this shockingly dynamic set of rhythmic experiments, assembling controlled, ping-ponging lattices of electronics that sound as ornate as a gamelan orchestra and as future-shocked as latter-day Autechre. If yr into Anthony Manning's cultish 'Islets in Pink Polypropylene', this one's for you.
Back in February 2021, Meginsky was hit with sadness and joy concurrently: his daughter Luce was born, and his friend and long-time instructor Milford Graves passed away at 79. An iconic jazz drummer, inventor, martial artist and sculptor, Graves was the subject of Meginsky's acclaimed 2018 documentary 'Full Mantis' and his unique musical philosophies have long underpinned Meginsky's musical output. So while he watched his newborn daughter sleep, Meginsky processed his stifled grief, using his own modular system to interpret Graves' theory of threes; the idea that triplets are the underlying structure and “grounded being” of all music.
The result is ‘Trinities’, a collection of triplet patterns that shift and mutate, fractalised thru Meginsky's innovative patches. Don't for a moment assume that it’s some dry collection of academic flexes; if you've heard Meginsky's music before you'll already know the level of skill he's able to channel through his tools, and 'Trinities' streamlines his creative process, propelling it further into the unknown.
Bubbling, pin-prick blips introduce us to the title track, interrupted by pregnant pauses and dizzying, electrified rolls. It's unmistakably electronic music that links back to the very earliest synthesisd rhythmic experiments, but never deviates from the drummer's path, sounding as woven into the creative fabric of contemporary avant percussionists Eli Keszler and Chris Corsano as it does the work of Mark Fell or Keith Fullerton Whitman. However, the most pressing comparison is to Anthony Manning's perennially overlooked 'Islets in Pink Polypropylene', a 1994 oddity that was made entirely on the Roland R8 drum machine, using its rudimentary sequencer to inform eccentric, weightless patterns of pitched drumming. Meginsky employs a very different technique, but the results are eerily harmonic; creating direct, physical music that's been mapped to modern electronics. it's still drumming, no matter how rubbery, improbably and neoteric the sounds and patterns might be.
The biggest surprise comes with the lengthy '2521', a lulling drone that Meginsky composed in the hospital's birthing room as he was waiting for his daughter to be born. Recorded straight to 4-track, it obscures his vision even further - listen closely and the drummer's instinct is still there as each breathy note suspires into the next. There's palpable rhythm to these notes that's been slowed to a crawl, deciphering an otherwise complex set of rules for the freshest possible set of ears. Poignant and unfathomably beautiful, it's a moment that should put Big Ambient to shame, bundling up the vulnerable emotionality of parenthood and Meginsky's mentor's ideology into ten minutes of levitational bliss.
When the album reaches its conclusion on 'Teorema' it sounds as if Meginsky’s two sonic poles colide, with blunt percussion blurring into spectral drones and gong-like resonances. It makes for startling, ahead-of-the-curve material from an artist we've been fascinated by for years. There just ain't nobody doing it quite this way.
View more
Edition of 300 copies, includes a download of the album dropped to your account. Art by Bill Nace, mastered by Carl Saff, layout by Izabel Nielsen & Johann Kauth
Out of Stock
Fabled Western Mass percussionist Jake Meginsky channels the teachings of his late mentor Milford Graves on this shockingly dynamic set of rhythmic experiments, assembling controlled, ping-ponging lattices of electronics that sound as ornate as a gamelan orchestra and as future-shocked as latter-day Autechre. If yr into Anthony Manning's cultish 'Islets in Pink Polypropylene', this one's for you.
Back in February 2021, Meginsky was hit with sadness and joy concurrently: his daughter Luce was born, and his friend and long-time instructor Milford Graves passed away at 79. An iconic jazz drummer, inventor, martial artist and sculptor, Graves was the subject of Meginsky's acclaimed 2018 documentary 'Full Mantis' and his unique musical philosophies have long underpinned Meginsky's musical output. So while he watched his newborn daughter sleep, Meginsky processed his stifled grief, using his own modular system to interpret Graves' theory of threes; the idea that triplets are the underlying structure and “grounded being” of all music.
The result is ‘Trinities’, a collection of triplet patterns that shift and mutate, fractalised thru Meginsky's innovative patches. Don't for a moment assume that it’s some dry collection of academic flexes; if you've heard Meginsky's music before you'll already know the level of skill he's able to channel through his tools, and 'Trinities' streamlines his creative process, propelling it further into the unknown.
Bubbling, pin-prick blips introduce us to the title track, interrupted by pregnant pauses and dizzying, electrified rolls. It's unmistakably electronic music that links back to the very earliest synthesisd rhythmic experiments, but never deviates from the drummer's path, sounding as woven into the creative fabric of contemporary avant percussionists Eli Keszler and Chris Corsano as it does the work of Mark Fell or Keith Fullerton Whitman. However, the most pressing comparison is to Anthony Manning's perennially overlooked 'Islets in Pink Polypropylene', a 1994 oddity that was made entirely on the Roland R8 drum machine, using its rudimentary sequencer to inform eccentric, weightless patterns of pitched drumming. Meginsky employs a very different technique, but the results are eerily harmonic; creating direct, physical music that's been mapped to modern electronics. it's still drumming, no matter how rubbery, improbably and neoteric the sounds and patterns might be.
The biggest surprise comes with the lengthy '2521', a lulling drone that Meginsky composed in the hospital's birthing room as he was waiting for his daughter to be born. Recorded straight to 4-track, it obscures his vision even further - listen closely and the drummer's instinct is still there as each breathy note suspires into the next. There's palpable rhythm to these notes that's been slowed to a crawl, deciphering an otherwise complex set of rules for the freshest possible set of ears. Poignant and unfathomably beautiful, it's a moment that should put Big Ambient to shame, bundling up the vulnerable emotionality of parenthood and Meginsky's mentor's ideology into ten minutes of levitational bliss.
When the album reaches its conclusion on 'Teorema' it sounds as if Meginsky’s two sonic poles colide, with blunt percussion blurring into spectral drones and gong-like resonances. It makes for startling, ahead-of-the-curve material from an artist we've been fascinated by for years. There just ain't nobody doing it quite this way.