Category Archives: Switched On

Switched on – Jacaszek: Music for Film (Ghostly International)

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What’s the story?

Polish composer Michal Jacaszek has pulled together excerpts from a number of different cinematic projects into a single work that runs for 45 minutes. It includes music from Rainer Sarnet’s black and white film November, a fantasy drama from 2017, where the brief was to create music ‘full of dark magic, strange beliefs, poverty, grit and natural beauty’, all around a story of love in old Estonian pagan times. Also included is music from He Dreams of Giants (2019) and Golgota wrocławska (2008).

What’s the music like?

As you might expect, Music For Film offers vivid imagery, often with cold and dark undertones. Jacaszek’s music unfolds with a measured tread throughout, a slow but determined walk forward that often leads into places of darkness. There is a close link to the music of Penderecki and Górecki here, more in mood than in explicit style, for Jacaszek is individual enough to hold his own comfortably.

The sparse textures of 49 are an ominous introduction, with a particularly cold piano sound, and this leads into the unsettling scene described by The Iron Bridge. Dance, too, has an underlying dread, the metallic and macabre sounds shuffling above a steadily moving bass line, eked out on a pizzicato bass instrument. Liina has a similarly bleak profile, with a cold vocal taking the lead.

There is white light in and around this music however, carefully and often beautifully shaded. Christ Blood Theme makes slow and stately progress while Encounter Me In The Orchard stops the listener in their tracks with a rich choral texture, like an imported piece from the Renaissance suspended in time.

November Early is particularly striking, painting the natural beauty required by the Estonian picture while reminding us of the bitter cold. Soft pianos toll, distant strings offer icy tremolos, but the steady foundations of pizzicato strings are what holds this music together, Jacaszek recreating the figurations of an old baroque-style Chaconne. By contrast the remove November Late builds from sparse beginnings to a full blooded orchestral climax.

Does it all work?

Yes, though Jacaszek’s work should come with the caveat that the listener needs to be in the right frame of mind to fully appreciate it! There are some very cold scenes here, achieved through masterly orchestration and the intriguing and often lingering glances towards older musical forms. Again this is in common with fellow Polish composers, but Jacaszek has plenty of original touches himself.

Is it recommended?

Yes. Jacaszek writes with powerful emotion, often through restraint. His music is often headed for dark places but it is well worth encountering if you haven’t previously heard it.

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Switched On – Ian William Craig: Red Sun Through Smoke (130701)

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Before listening to this album, read the story behind it on Ian William Craig’s Bandcamp page. It may initially look like a long piece of text but there is a reason for that, as so much happened in his life when this album was being made. Looking back, it’s a minor miracle it was made at all.

Yet the music clearly powered Craig through an incredibly eventful and difficult passage of his life. Red Sun Through Smoke began as an album documenting the increasingly powerful and consuming forest fires experienced throughout British Columbia each summertime, but once Craig was recording it at his granddads, it took on extremely personal dimensions.

Craig lost his grandfather during the recording of the album, but with his family’s blessing and encouragement continued to record at his home, and use his piano, across the street from the care home where he died. Almost simultaneously he also fell in love, but had to manage his relationship remotely between Vancouver, his home, and the subject of his affections, who had recently moved to Paris.

All these things – grief, love, anger, affection and musicality – feed into the music of Red Sun Through Smoke, where they are led by the piano, the first time Craig has turned to the instrument in a while.

What’s the music like?

Given the emotional baggage surrounding this album Craig could be forgiven for musical indulgence. Yet that is never the case, for as the music unfolds with a wide array of shades and colours, it tells the story in a way only music can. Knowing the tale beforehand is undoubtedly helpful, giving insight into the twists and turns we experience.

There are several acappella tracks, the first of which – Random – begins the album with an almost nostalgic air. It harks back towards the sound of more primitive North American hymns, with open fifths and a relatively coarse timbre. Later on, Comma climbs higher, while the third unaccompanied vocal track, Take, also hits the heights. Craig’s vibrato-rich voice is heard alone, then layered, on Weight, while in the brief Supper he laments on how ‘we had grief for supper’. Far and Then Farther, also unaccompanied, moves towards consolation.

Despite all the vocals the piano remains the star. It takes the edge off with the mottled textures of The Smokefallen, and appears in distracted form on Last Of The Lantern Oil, an incredibly distinctive track with beautiful spatial effects to stop the listener in their tracks.

Craig uses thick distortion on the dense and rather threatening Condx QRN, which is calmed by the reappearance of the piano on Mountains Astray. Both elements combine on Open Like A Loss, a tense piece of contrary emotions.

Does it all work?

As a piece of descriptive work Red Sun Through Smoke is incredibly effective and really takes its listener through the emotional and physical impact of the unfolding story. Because of that it is not really suitable for passive listening, and nor will the layered vocals be to everybody’s taste. That is absolutely no reflection on their quality or meaning; more an indication of how individual they are, and how profound they turn out to be.

Is it recommended?

Yes. Ian William Craig tells a very powerful story here, made even more meaningful by its restraint and deep set emotion. As a historical document in British Columbia’s recent history it also deserves to be widely heard, carrying as it does a number of keenly felt warnings for the future.

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Switched On – Daniel Avery & Alessandro Cortini: Illusion of Time (Phantasy)

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Daniel Avery and the Nine Inch Nails’ Alessandro Cortini began working together in 2017 with the remotely-achieved collaboration Sun Draw Water, a limited release whose promise hinted heavily at greater things to come.

They completed Illusion of Time a year later when both were touring with the Nine Inch Nails themselves. Since then Avery has delivered Drone Logic, one of 2018’s finest electronic albums, and Cortini has also excelled in a solo capacity with Volume Massimo, clearing the decks for the release of this 45-minute work.

What’s the music like?

Illusion of Time is all about atmosphere, and the ability to press pause on life itself, achieved through an often fascinating blend of analogue electronics and atmospherics. The description from the promotional material of ‘quietly powerful’ is very accurate, and is achieved without any use of drums or percussion.

While that implies much less emphasis on rhythm, Avery and Cortini use textures, pitch and slowly drawn out melodies to create considerable tension and release. The likes of Enter Exit, an expansive track on a bed of white noise, or the first track Sun, emerging through a crackle of white noise and atmospherics, embody this. They alternate slowly between pitches, with indistinct sounds passing across the stereo picture. The title track then gets a more definitive loop that oscillates at an easy pace.

Inside The Ruins is ominous, to these ears at least painting a picture of oppressive history within a decrepit building. It may stand still but there are dark shadows and unseen hazards at hand. By complete contrast, At First Sight has a wonderful depth to surround its soft-centred loop. This steady pulse is the closest Illusion of Time gets to percussion, the bass notes marking time beneath thick swirls of ambience and a piercing melody of otherworldly beauty.

Water, the longest piece of music, is literally a deep dive, dark hues of blue and purple coming to mind as the music gains wonderful depth. It runs seamlessly into Stills, a coda based on a single, warm chord with a foamy crescendo that sinks back to nothing.

Does it all work?

Yes. Time spent listening closely to this album brings the most rewards, for Avery and Cortini are masters of their craft, carefully selecting their blend of sounds to describe the unseen subject matter. Their music is ultimately calming, but with frissons of danger and darkness around the edges.

Is it recommended?

Yes. Illusion of Time is a fascinating meeting of minds, which ends up being the ideal collaboration in the sense that we end up with an equally divided – and united – musical approach. It may fall into the category of ‘ambient’, but with descriptive picture painting and ever-shifting sounds it has a great deal of depth too.

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Switched On – The Orb: Abolition of the Royal Familia (Cooking Vinyl)

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The Orb need no introduction of course, being long familiar to admirers of ambient music since 1988. Theirs is an ever-changing line-up, orbiting the one constant of the equation, Dr Alex Paterson, and on this, their 17th studio album, Michael Rendall is elevated to the top table. He joins Paterson at the controls for a record including a number of starry guest turns.

Regular collaborators Steve Hillage and Miquette Giraudy (aka System 7) and Youth appear, alongside Roger Eno, David Harrow of On-U Sound, and – this being The Orb – a four legged friend, the Paterson pooch Ruby.

The album takes as its lead the royal family’s nod to the East India Company and its opium trade – both an inspiration and a protest against a movement causing two wars between India and China in the 18th and 19th centuries.

What’s the music like?

Lovely. There is little sense of explicit protest, and the guests all fit in to the overall mood seamlessly. The Orb have a very happy knack for matching quantity with quality, and even though it is barely a year since their last outing, Abolition of the Royal Familia sounds fresh and very much at ease in its own company.

At 77 minutes it’s a good stretch, but that gives the listener even more room to drift in and out of focus if required. Working together as Paterson and Rendall do means the door is never closed to a variety of styles and, very happily, humour too.

The speed with which Daze slips into a comfortable groove might surprise, a lead on which House of Narcotics and Hawk King build with their chugging beats. The latter displays The Orb’s familiar ambient house credentials as well as paying affectionate tribute to one of their most famous fans.

Gradually the tracks pan out and we experience more horizontal musical thoughts. Spacious intros provide warmth on a Californian scale, the listener allowed to bathe in consonant harmonies that drift back and forward like the ebbing of the tide. Shape Shifters (In Two Parts) goes further, adding a dreamy trumpet solo from 17-year old Oli Cripps, who Paterson met in his local record shop.

Also easing into the long form bracket is The Weekend It Rained Forever, a spacey, piano-led number towards the end, proving the ideal foil for the clattering breakbeats of The Queen Of Hearts preceding it.

Happily the band’s trademark collage of samples will make you smile, despite the inevitable rejection of a Prince Charles number. “We are WNBC”, begins Afros, Afghans and Angels, “the West Norwood Broadcasting Corporation. Streaming live to you whoever, wherever and whatever you are.” Yet a surprising and devastating payoff is saved for the finish. “Stay in your homes, do not attempt to contact loved ones or attorneys”, runs the key refrain of Slave Till U Die No Matter What U Buy, the Jello Biafra homage unintentionally marking itself out as an isolation anthem for our time.

Does it all work?

Yes. It is arguably too long, but with music like this duration is much less of an issue, especially with plenty going on around the perimeter on headphones. Certainly seasoned Orb followers will not see it as a problem. It could also be argued that Abolition of the Royal Familia does not introduce anything particularly new – again, not a problem, since The Orb always know how to reach those ambient parts few others can reach.

Is it recommended?

Yes. Abolition of the Royal Familia falls seamlessly into line alongside the recent additions to The Orb’s cannon, and has many moments of genuine bliss. It is like a sonic warm bath at either end of a trying day.

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Switched On – BVDUB: Ten Times The World Lied (Glacial Movements)

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Life begins at forty, goes the saying – but that is the figure on which Brock Van Wey, or BVDUB as he is better known in musical circles, is closing in. That’s forty albums, too, an astonishing achievement when you consider the consistency of his ability to write pure musical ambience that also touches the heart.

Van Wey’s fifth for the Glacial Movements label has a provocative title, especially in these testing times for the world against which he rails. It has a powerful order to it as well – ten tracks, each of them recorded on the tenth of the month, recording ending ten months after it began.

For the first time Van Wey dispenses with vocals, letting his electronics and sound files do the talking.

What’s the music like?

Ten Ways The World Lied is incredibly descriptive, and also profoundly moving if heard at the right time and place. The slow moving musical motifs are often cast in the midst of thick, ambient clouds, yet there is a deep set feeling too that connects them closely to the earth.

Van Wey’s layered approach has a keen sonic beauty on headphones or on big speaker systems, the textures swirling closely around the listener but also allowing for an expanse of vast space.

Despite the titles there is no obvious protest element to the music, though it does feel very closely connected to primal and natural forms. Not Yours To See is underwritten by a lovely piano line, while Not Yours To Give sounds like a distant choir. Not Yours To Find is very richly textured, the sounds floating, while Not Yours To Keep pans out further, moving slowly but surely before a warmer swirl of sounds near the end.

Not Yours To Take keeps the soft harmonies but adds a lovely heat haze, and while Not Yours To Rule is similarly warm Not Yours To Break provides the ultimate resolution, a warm breeze that gradually settles on a beautifully held note.

Does it all work?

Yes. Once again BVDUB secures the deceptively difficult combination of simplicity and powerful expression, through musical content that moves slowly but can prove to be completely hypnotic and calming.

Is it recommended?

Very much so. An excellent collection of a producer who has been a deserved mainstay of electronica’s top table for more than two decades, and whose music can cover a wide selection of dancefloors. It should encourage listeners to delve even further into his considerable early output. I know I will!

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