Untitled No. 51
Swiss guitarist Ruven Nunez makes no frills guitar-driven ambient music that harks back to the chilly simplicity of early Brian Eno and Steve Roach, and it's absolutely delightful.
Sometimes you don't need bells and whistles for music to be effective. There's a trend in modern ambient music to hit out at with the most complex textural processes or excavate some next level Medieval vibe or other - Ruven Nunez proves with "Untitled No. 51" that none of that's necessary. He doesn't try to reinvent the wheel here, or honestly do anything that we haven't heard repeated by the litany of artists who were motivated by Eno's "Apollo", Roach's "Structures From Silence" or, more recently, Stars of the Lid's early run. But it hardly matters, the 20-minute piece is movingly bare bones - emotionally direct and sublimely enjoyable as a result.
There's no tape noise, no extraneous field recordings, no wow and absolutely no flutter. There's no Instagram modular, no succulents, no disintegration and, as far as we know, no loops. It's just hovering, melancholy, synthesized guitar tones, and sometimes that's all you need. Peaceful in the best possible way.
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Swiss guitarist Ruven Nunez makes no frills guitar-driven ambient music that harks back to the chilly simplicity of early Brian Eno and Steve Roach, and it's absolutely delightful.
Sometimes you don't need bells and whistles for music to be effective. There's a trend in modern ambient music to hit out at with the most complex textural processes or excavate some next level Medieval vibe or other - Ruven Nunez proves with "Untitled No. 51" that none of that's necessary. He doesn't try to reinvent the wheel here, or honestly do anything that we haven't heard repeated by the litany of artists who were motivated by Eno's "Apollo", Roach's "Structures From Silence" or, more recently, Stars of the Lid's early run. But it hardly matters, the 20-minute piece is movingly bare bones - emotionally direct and sublimely enjoyable as a result.
There's no tape noise, no extraneous field recordings, no wow and absolutely no flutter. There's no Instagram modular, no succulents, no disintegration and, as far as we know, no loops. It's just hovering, melancholy, synthesized guitar tones, and sometimes that's all you need. Peaceful in the best possible way.
Swiss guitarist Ruven Nunez makes no frills guitar-driven ambient music that harks back to the chilly simplicity of early Brian Eno and Steve Roach, and it's absolutely delightful.
Sometimes you don't need bells and whistles for music to be effective. There's a trend in modern ambient music to hit out at with the most complex textural processes or excavate some next level Medieval vibe or other - Ruven Nunez proves with "Untitled No. 51" that none of that's necessary. He doesn't try to reinvent the wheel here, or honestly do anything that we haven't heard repeated by the litany of artists who were motivated by Eno's "Apollo", Roach's "Structures From Silence" or, more recently, Stars of the Lid's early run. But it hardly matters, the 20-minute piece is movingly bare bones - emotionally direct and sublimely enjoyable as a result.
There's no tape noise, no extraneous field recordings, no wow and absolutely no flutter. There's no Instagram modular, no succulents, no disintegration and, as far as we know, no loops. It's just hovering, melancholy, synthesized guitar tones, and sometimes that's all you need. Peaceful in the best possible way.
Swiss guitarist Ruven Nunez makes no frills guitar-driven ambient music that harks back to the chilly simplicity of early Brian Eno and Steve Roach, and it's absolutely delightful.
Sometimes you don't need bells and whistles for music to be effective. There's a trend in modern ambient music to hit out at with the most complex textural processes or excavate some next level Medieval vibe or other - Ruven Nunez proves with "Untitled No. 51" that none of that's necessary. He doesn't try to reinvent the wheel here, or honestly do anything that we haven't heard repeated by the litany of artists who were motivated by Eno's "Apollo", Roach's "Structures From Silence" or, more recently, Stars of the Lid's early run. But it hardly matters, the 20-minute piece is movingly bare bones - emotionally direct and sublimely enjoyable as a result.
There's no tape noise, no extraneous field recordings, no wow and absolutely no flutter. There's no Instagram modular, no succulents, no disintegration and, as far as we know, no loops. It's just hovering, melancholy, synthesized guitar tones, and sometimes that's all you need. Peaceful in the best possible way.