What makes for a good drone/experimental record? I would argue that the success or failure of a record of this sort rests entirely on the subjective reaction of the listener. My favorite drone records are those that have either resonated with me emotionally as a result in shifts in the record's sonic dynamics, or those that I have been able to completely lose myself in through a process of audial immersion. Some of the best experimental records are rather dynamic with large arcs, squalls and swells, while others are completely static and meditative. There is no one formula for what works and what doesn't, or, I should say, what connects with the listener and what doesn't. It's more of a feeling, and not something that can be reduced to a scholastic exercise, although certainly some would argue otherwise. Philip Jeck has always been one of the more dynamic experimental artist in the field. Crafting soundscapes out of old records played on old record players and processed through effects pedals, Jeck is less a turntablist and more of a sound sculptor. I have had the fortune to see him perform, and I was amazed at the sound he was able to construct as he sat behind his turntables spinning nicked up and warped records. As with all things vinyl there is an immediate warmth to Jeck's sound, like sepia-toned memories. That warmth coupled with his ear for superbly effective dynamic structures throughout his compositions have made him one of the leading lights in experimental music alongside Fennesz and Tim Hecker. A simple look back at his catalog reveals some of the best records of the sort of the last ten years. "Surf" "Stoke" "7" and the massive "Vinyl Coda" series are all essential and necessary releases for any self-respecting fan of experimental music. So when a new Philip Jeck record drops, it is cause for more than a little excitement.
Jeck's last record "Sand" was somewhat of a let down in that it was comprised of smaller scale pieces not necessarily tied to one another either thematically or sonically, which brings up yet another commonality among truly great experimental recordings - they almost always take you on a journey from the time of the first tone to the fade of the last shimmer. They are records to be taken as a whole in one sitting without pause. "Sand" attempted to stuff Jeckian epics into shorter non-related pieces, which wasn't entirely a bad idea on paper, but it didn't quite succeed like his other more immersive recordings. "An Ark For The Listener" finds Jeck returning to the album as a journey template. Inspired by "a meditation on verse 33 of "The Wreck of the Deutchsland", Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem about the drowning on December 7th 1875 of five Franciscan nuns exiled from Germany," according to Jeck, the album remains consistent in tone and intent throughout. Even the two songs not related to the theme of the album; "All That's Allowed" and "Chime, Chime (re-rung)," which are remixes of two pieces from another essential Jeck release "Suite: Live in Liverpool," sound like they were created as part of the whole here.
Although Jeck has returned to a more consistent whole with "Ark," the album differs markedly from his previous records in that it is a much more subtle affair, with many of the dynamics easily glossed over during a casual listen. It took me days to unpack these recordings, and only when I strapped on the headphones did the album fully reveal itself. What initially sounds like simple and unimpressive (by Jeckian standards) drones on the first few listens eventually open up to expose their complex and dense layers of sounds. This isn't a record like "7" where pieces immediately reach out and grab you. You have to come to the song, spending time with it before you can fully submerge yourself in "Ark's" soundfield. The reward for that investment is a richly textured record that is both as challenging as it is meditative.
"Ark" is a bit darker than previous Jeck releases. Not that Jeck's dense sound worlds were ever a ray of sunshine, but there were often moments throughout his recordings of levity and brightness. Here the tones are mostly muted and smudged grayscale, with far less sepia. There is also a liquidity to the sound courtesy of some bass guitar, an instrument that Jeck seems to have gained an affinity for of late (check out his recent excellent solo bass ep "Spool" to see what I mean). All of these characteristics are only fitting for an album inspired by the drowning of a group of nuns. And trust me, by the time you are able to fully digest and submerge yourself in this recording, you will feel an affinity for those nuns, because like them you will find yourself feeling buried under walls of water slowly choking out your last breath. It's just that dense and claustrophobic of an affair at times.
"Ark" certainly wouldn't be the first record I would recommend for a Jeck novice, it is far too inaccessible. For the uninitiated I would suggest "7" or "Soak." But, for those of us who have found solace in Jeck throughout the past decade this is one of his most challenging and complicated works, but also incredibly rewarding. It will cause unease, and it will bury you both with its intent and execution, but it will astonish you with its clarity of vision as well as Jeck's ability to carry it out. This may not be the first record I will reach for in Jeck's collection, but it is the one I will grab when I don't want to take the easy way out.
"Thirtieth/Pilot Reprise"
"The All of Water"
No comments:
Post a Comment