REVIEWS

vital weekly, FRANS DE WAARD:

I wanted to play the other new Mikroton release straight away, but I realized after a minute that would be the wrong choice right now, so I returned a few days later. This is probably one of those releases by Mikroton, where mister Mikroton and me (sounds like a band name!) would disagree on the various nomenclature. Here we have Ken Ganfield (synthesizers, electronics), Kurt Liedwart (synthesizers, cracked homemade and everyday electronics; we spot the relationship there with Norbert Möslang) and Petr Vrba (synthesizers, electronics), who worked together in Prague in August 2017. I have some idea what to imagine happens at such a session. Various people, operating various instruments play together (one could perhaps also call this improvisation; unless in advance it is known what will be played out) and all is recorded. Either each player records his own part or a multi-track recorder has been put in place, or, alternatively, everything is recorded to two tracks (stereo). Anyway, following the recording Kurt Liedwart sat down with the material and mixed it at all. I assume he prefers every player to be recorded individually, so when it comes to mixing (which in this case equals 'composing', I think) there are lots of choices to be made. I don't know for sure if this is the case here, and it is just an assumption. What for Liedwart might be clear examples of composing, might sound like improvising for others; me for instance. I like to believe I heard quite a fair few of this kind of 'composed'/edited' sessions to think at the core it is improvised and in some case that shines through the end result. This is surely one of those instances. It has perhaps to do with what I think is composed and to what extent. Here, on the two pieces on this release, there is quite a bit of cracking and sudden leaps in sound noticeable, jumping up and down, which gave me the impression that this is indeed more or less improvised music (I am carefull here; I am just giving my considerations!) and it's just categorization. I actually like the music very much. It's vibrant, energetic, bouncing, thoughtful and comes with quite a bit of interesting perspectives and abrupt changes in the overall compositions. It's an excellent release. You don't need to call it [fill in whatever you think it is not] if the term shocks you.

his voice, jan faix:

V žižkovském avantgardním klubu Punctum vznikla již řada pozoruhodných nahrávek, o jejichž publikování se postaralo lecjaké vydavatelství zaměřené na experimentální hudbu. Letos k nim přibyla i značka Mikroton, na níž vyšel záznam z čistě elektronického koncertu jejího provozovatele, moskevského rodáka Kurta Liedwarta společně s Petrem Vrbou a v Praze dlouho domestikovaným Američanem Kenem Ganfieldem.

V minulém roce jsem recenzoval album Punkt, které společně natočili Liedwart a Vrba. Ti letos na tento počin navázali vydáním nahrávky z koncertu, který se uskutečnil v pražském klubu Punctum v srpnu roku 2017. Na něm navíc figuruje hráč na modulární syntezátory Ken Ganfield, zde především na legendární britský nástroj známý například z klasických alb Pink Floyd, Synthi AKS. Petr Vrba zde pracuje též hlavně se syntezátory a Liedwart doplnil špinavější lo-fi DIY vrstvu zapojením původně spíše nehudební domácí elektroniky a podomácku vyrobených nástrojů či efektů. Jejich společné analogové orgie daly vzniknout dvěma více než dvacetiminutovým trackům se slovními hříčkami v názvech, Unbearable a Nauseating.

Úvodní tři minuty alba Something Wrong There působí poněkud laškovně. Elektronické nástroje se zde seznamují, klidně si i poněkud neomaleně vymezují svůj díl akustického prostoru. Připojí se snivé melodicko-harmonické ostinato, nevede však hudebníky ke zvážnění, spíše k hlubšímu ponoru do světa nevyzpytatelnosti. Party jednotlivých aktérů nejde od sebe příliš odlišit, každý občas rytmizovaně cvrliká, opájí se dronem, nebo se pouští do noisových či industriálních surovostí. To vše v sytých a šťavnatých zvukových barvách. Radost poslouchat až do táhlého ambientního doznívání.

Nauseating v podstatě jen perkusivněji naváže na první kus (s velkou pravděpodobností může na tomto albu jít zkrátka o poloviny či dva vystřižené dominantní úseky jednoho koncertního setu). Na počátku jinak pracuje i se zmiňovaným ambientním motivem z Unbearable, postupně se ale dostaneme do příjemně noisové plavby.

Svým způsobem je těžké tuto nahrávku označit za experimentální. Používá v žánru soudobé elektronické psychedelie standardní přístupy k analogovým syntezátorům, no-input elektronice a možná k samplingu. Avšak zvukových zdrojů, především oscilátorů, je tu mnoho a jsou pod kontrolou šesti zkušených rukou na mnoha potenciometrech, takže je výsledek velice poutavý a v improvizované aranži neustále překvapující. Mně osobně to dokládá i množství rotací tohoto velice sympatického CD v mém domácím přehrávači. Co je podle titulu na této nahrávce špatně, jsem opravdu nezjistil.

Vazby labelu Mikroton na naši domácí scénu se dále prohlubují, v dubnu letošního roku vydal také dlouho očekávaný projekt Wabi Experience Tomáše Procházky a Járy Tarnovského.

a2, Petr Ferenc:

„Něco je tam špatně.“ Nebo snad: „Něco tam nehraje“? Těžko říct, jak by správný překlad měl znít. Jisté je, že disk Something Wrong There vyšel na ruské značce Mikroton a dvojici hlasitostně neupejpavých dvacetiminutovek vytvořila trojice hráčů na analogové syntezátory a další, často podomácku dobastlenou elektroniku: v Praze žijící hudebníci Ken Ganfield a Petr Vrba a sám vydavatel, ruský improvizátor vystupující pod pseudonymem Kurt Liedwart. Materiál vznikl před dvěma lety při improvizovaném neveřejném hraní v žižkovském klubu Punctum, tedy na místě, které na pražské mapě hlukových, experimentálních, spontánních a podzemních hudebních aktivit aktuálně představuje středobod. Nahrávka zaujme neobyčejnou dynamikou a dojmem neustálého vířivého pohybu. Pokud se vám dělá špatně třeba na kolotoči, buďte jemně varováni názvy tracků – Unbearable a Nauseating. Čeká vás totiž jízda, při níž ani na okamžik nebudete tušit, co se skrývá za nejbližší zatáčkou a zda nejsou předměty v oslňujícím zrcátku mnohem blíže, než se zdají. Kolega Jan Faix v recenzi alba pro HIS Voice použil slovo, jež by mě samotného nenapadlo: psychedelie. Vlastně má pravdu, je­-li psychedelická taková hudba, jejíž emocionální účinek nelze vystihnout verbálně. Desku je sice možné popsat pár slovy, opakované poslechy ale pokaždé odhalí něco nového – tu další pnutí, tu naopak skrytý klid.

chain d.l.k, Vito Camarretta:

What can you expect by an album title "Something Wrong There", consisting of two tracks titled "Unbearable" and "Nauseating", lasting more than 20 minutes each? One of the most logical answer could compile a list of side effects, related to intoxication or nervous breakdown. Well, some granola-heads could argue that it's better to avoid it, but besides a certain humour and a clear self awareness, the aesthetical choices by Kan Ganfield (synthesizers, electronics), Kurt Liedwart (synthesizers, cracked homemade and everyday electronics) and Petr Vrba (synthesizers and electronics) seems to assemble slices of electronics, fragmented crumbs of synthetic sounds and noises from dead radio transmissions into pulps of electric turmoils, that sound like feeding themselves. The ghost of ambient and cosmic music get violently pushed to the borders of something that could vaguely resemble an improvisational set, but where there's a willful sonic strategy, that could vanish the sometimes disliked label of 'improv'. Recorded in the August 2017 in Punctum, a cultural centre in the vibrant district of Zizkov in Prague, this turgid declension of electronics is often piercing and ferocious (in spite of occasional spray of flat pads and reassuring entities - vaguely resembling deformed pop melodies - in the middle of maelstrom) that you can surmise that the real purpose of this trio was to create a stress test for nerves and stomach for true, but I'm pretty sure both the testers/makers and the tested eardrums/audience enjoyed such a session.

the squid's ear, dave madden:

Mikroton label boss Kurt Liedwart cites literary great and Oulipo founder Raymond Queneau as an influence on his own composition and performance technique. While it would be a time-intensive endeavor to analyze and dissect the dense Something Wrong There with one of that collective’s methodologies — or doing so in the way you did with Schoenberg orchestral works during grad school — a few concepts from the Oulipian philosophy resonate when reading about Liedwart’s approach to the record:

•"Inspiration which consists in blind obedience to every impulse is in reality a sort of slavery.” (Queneau)

• “…once the Apollonian structure has been circumscribed, Dionysus can work his magic.” (Andrew Gallix, The Guardian 07-12-2013)

• “I set myself rules in order to be totally free.” (Georges Perec)

To step back, Something Wrong There is culled from improvisations by electronics specialists Ken Garfield, Petr Vrba and Liedwart. The latter reworked and molded said sessions to, per Mikroton, “create (the) sonically fresh sound worlds” that he didn’t achieve with the original results. In other words, Liedwart didn’t trust (or put trust in?) his instincts, experimented, and came back to his rulebook. Reverse Oulipo! Don’t fall into the abyss of freedom, Kurt. Anyway.

Beginning with “Unbearable”, the music is a fusion of continuously churning cyclones, hyper-rhythmic and overdriven sizzles and sputters, juggernauts of low end, and harmonically loose material courtesy of modular synthesizers, laptops and hacked devices. Avoiding idiosyncratic chaos, Liedwart corrals the various maelstroms of blips and crackles into a relatively organized casing and form; think of large cruise ships, full of bodies and objects moving according to disparate whims and moods, intermittently bumping into one another near the dock.

Over chugging rumbles, warbling melodies brighten and squirm back to the shadows, returning with more fire in arpeggio form; ascending glissandi fight with scratchy twitches for attention; mechanical rain showers fill the backdrop behind junky transports armed with sonar, Geiger counters and electric telegraphs. After 20 minutes of the near-24-minute piece, the storms recede, and we’re left with an ensemble of faintly pulsing bleeps, gravelly ticks and glitches, and a repeating garble that sounds like a kid imitating a rocket lift-off (“SHRRRRRRRRR”). A switch is flicked, and each element gradually powers down.

This abeyance carries into the first few minutes of the second half, “Nauseating”. Gentle whirring and breathy, filtered drones swirl around an animated bed of detritus. Deep, full-figured bursts of distorted square waves pop out of your right speaker, and a tense submerged beat periodically interrupt until…

There is one reoccurring, grounding theme that pops in several times across the two works, even closing the second half. A spectral transmission, this shimmering, palpable cloud escaped a ballroom where “In a Sentimental Mood” was performed a few too many times (and is forever trapped like smoke in the walled atmosphere). Each time it hits, one is reminded of a Lortab haze, or the first shot of whiskey you spent too much on, or both of those done from the superficially innocuous bar in The Shining. Rather than integrate with the sonic palette, it stands as a looming counterpoint of tension and release to disrupt — for better or worse (I’m still not sure what to make of it) — the narrative.

Speaking of which, despite Liedwart’s dislike of linear narrative (see the link in the first sentence), truly, the visual storyline this audio inspires is vast — as sound waves free from time signatures and a tonal center and purposely defying labels are prone to do; The Adventures of James Cameron in the Mariana Trench, A Tale of Two Star Destroyers, My Stratosphere Journals, and A Night in the Engine Room would be apt screenplays. As an author of 100 takes on the same anecdote, Queneau would be proud.

kathodik, A. G. Bertinetto:

Alle prese con elettronica e sintetizzatori, i tre componenti di questo trio propongono quello che dice nome stesso del disco: qualcosa che non va. I titoli dei due lunghi brani in cui esso si articola sono ancora più espliciti: Unbearable e Nauseating. Certamente (o almeno suppongo!) si tratta di autoironia. Ma è significativo che l’autoironia vada in questa direzione: del resto potrebbe il noise essere dolce e armonioso? Ecco, qui una pletora di rumori di varia fattura, consistenza e texture si mescola e alterna per colpire e affondare le nostre orecchie. La lusinga seducente non è certo un problema dei noisists. Il carattere di ricerca e sperimentazione è indubbio: ma non sarà un o’ una moda, un gesto, una nicchia sicura, un rifugio da cui inveire contro la banalità di tutto il resto e soprattutto della melodia, questa signorina carina, ben formata e priva di rughe? Sappiamo che anche nel jazz si parla di wrong notes (che sono wrong solo perché il contesto armonico-ritmico non è quello tradizionale), ma qui non ci sono notes e se qualcosa è wrong qui, non sono le note. Credo sia piuttosto il fatto che - e mi ripeto fino alla nausea (provocatami dal brano sera citato) - manca qui, cioè qui nello spazio solitario in cui mi trovo all’ascolto, la dimensione sociale e performativa di un club dove la mia percezione avrebbe avuto più motivi per accogliere le suggestioni di questi esperimenti, aggrappandosi a un’immaginazione più viva e concreta. Però sono comunque suggestioni interessanti, materiali non privi di spunti creativi.