bad alchemy, rigobert dittmann:

Mikrotöne mit dem Gesicht und dem 'Besame Mucho' von Consuelo Velázquez zu verbinden, das kam Angélica Castelló & Burkhard Stangl für Consuelo (mikroton cd 62) in den Sinn und lädt dazu ein, über Hauntology oder ein feminines Imaginäres in der Lower-Case-Improv-Ästhetik zu spekulieren. Die beiden nennen sich CHESTERFIELD und ich weiß nicht, ob ich da an Zigaretten, einen Mantel oder Ledermöbel denken soll. Die mit Paetzold, Blockflöten, Tapes, Electronics & Strings bzw. Gitarren & Piano erzeugte Klangwelt ist weder englisch noch wienerisch, vielmehr driftet man mit Costelló nach Mexiko, in mit Patina überzogene Erinnerungen, die von der Stimme von Consuelito durchzogen sind. Aber die Vergangenheit ist in diesem Dröhn- und Dreamscape ein vielschichtiges Palimpsest. Stangl pickt an den Saiten wie an Kaktusstacheln, Frösche quarren und wollen geküsst werden ('Bésame'), gern auch Tschechisch ('Polibek') oder Slovenisch ('Poljub'). Der Styx lappt ans Ufer, die Finger gewittern am Piano, träumen aber lieber auf der Gitarre Besame, Besame mucho / Como si fuera ésta noche / La última vez. Geharfte Griffe wechseln mit fordernden Schlägen auf den Saiten. Immer wieder schaffen Castellós Schmauchspuren, Feldaufnahmen oder der mexikanische Schlager im Radio Atmosphäre, und wenn es nur ein störendes Zischen, Pusten oder Knistern ist, in dem das "Bésame-Bésame-Bésame" auf der Stelle tritt. Stangl fingert zuletzt noch einmal als Herzensdieb ('Ladrón'), aber tastet vergeblich wie in Rauch, der unter Castellós flötendem Anhauch verschwindet.

we need no swords, paul margree:

It’s not only Liedwart who is well served by Mikroton. The Mexican sound artist Angélica Castelló is one of a bunch of musicians who have developed ongoing relationships with the label, having appeared a good four or five times in different configurations. This time round she’s teamed up with Burkhart Stangl, the duo conjuring up hazy wafts of hypnagogic improv whose woozy textures and reverberant depths evoke the psychic junk of memories long-buried.

In fact, the duo’s ghostly atmospheres and tentative melodies on ‘Consuelo’ would fit right into a David Lynch flick. Those off-kilter sounds, nostalgic cover art and (mostly) Spanish titles are a shoe-in for the Californian nightmare of ‘Mulholland Drive’, while more abrasive moments are perfect accompaniment for Agent Cooper’s recent shuffles round the Black Lodge.

Check out ‘En Un Nopal’, for example, where a cute tremolo guitar line picks its way through ominous low-end throbs, skipping off into the aether leaving only iron-lung breath and motorised whirrs. In ‘Besame’, cut-up fragments – voices, a pop song sampled and looped so that only the title phrase (Spanish for ‘kiss me’) repeats with frenetic abandon – gabble through gassy clouds, while field recordings of traffic add familiar rumbles. It’s as uncanny, and compelling, as a recurring anxiety dream. And, like Castelló’s other Mikroton outings, it’s damn fine.

the sound projector, ed pinsent:

Received two records featuring Angélica Castelló from the Mikroton label this season. Castelló is usually associated with the paetzold bass recorder, but she plays other instruments too, and I’m usually left with a dreamlike impression from her musical exploits, of which no two appear to be quite the same; besides her various group performance records, we’ve enjoyed hearing her as a member of Cilantro (with Billy Roisz). On Consuelo (MIKROTON CD 62), she’s recording with Burkhard Stangl and the pair appears as Chesterfield, an oddly reassuring name if you take it as a reference to a comfy sofa, plus there’s a nice nostalgic photo of a woman’s face on the cover. Austrian guitarist Stangl here adds some very romantic piano fugues to the sounds of Castelló (she is credited with tapes, electronic, cello and viola besides the recorders), most strikingly on the title track which is a lively romp through an imaginary Mexican hotel of the 1930s with zig-zag designs hanging on every wall. ‘Polibek’ is likewise an enchanting dream setting with swamp-like purrs and growls in among the gentle furniture movements; somehow Stangl’s spare guitar notes just bring everything into focus, just so. The rest of the album never quite reaches the agitation of that superb opening cut, but there is still much to savour by way of magical atmospheres and inspired moments where field recordings, found tapes of voices and strange layers of subdued music all come together perfectly. This works as an album of minimal improv if you just want to listen to restrained guitar picking and recorder drones, but Castelló is adding so many other elements that the whole of Consuelo emerges as a wonderful fantasy of times past, in Southern US states that never really existed.