Doubtless the duo would blanch if pigeonholed with labels like “dark,” “hauntological,” “drone” or “witch house” but there’s no denying their penchant for the arcane and unsettling, whether through bleak soundscapes Andy Votel’s supernatural and apothecary artwork or the archival, low budget exploitation movie images that accompany their live performances.
What is it about Demdike Stare that renders their work somehow inescapable? Is it witchcraft, sorcery or alchemy? Posthypnotic suggestion perhaps? Are they putting something in the water? Because no matter how indifferent you may be to any particular track to begin with, chances are you’ll be ineluctably drawn back to it in the end. The seemingly effortless ease with which Sean Canty and Miles Whittaker brew their intoxicating sonic potions is as representative of the insanely diverse and eclectic material the duo have been obsessively collecting and listening to themselves as ever on Elemental.
Doubtless the duo would blanch if pigeonholed with labels like “dark,” “hauntological,” “drone” or “witch house” but there’s no denying their penchant for the arcane and unsettling, whether through bleak soundscapes Andy Votel’s supernatural and apothecary artwork or the archival, low budget exploitation movie images that accompany their live performances. Each of Demdike Stare’s previous releases had their own distinct personality, illustrating perfectly their mutating rather than evolving sound, the flayed skin of which has been stretched mighty thin over the brittle skeleton of Elemental.
Part 1 The Chrysanthemum, the Violet, the Iris and the Rose
The first iteration of Elemental is a four-part series of three track twelve inch EPs, each named after a flower and pressed up on correspondingly coloured vinyl. Where previous Demdike Stare releases featured an underlying theme, the elements of this series are a decidedly mixed bag of voodoo ingredients, both individually and collectively. Every track is possessed of such a potent, beguiling character and identity, however, that resisting the temptation to describe every single one of them here in minute detail is a genuine challenge.
The sort of minimal chills at which Demdike Stare excel are present right from the outset in “Mephisto’s Lament” (in folklore, an arch-demon often used as a representation of the devil) as waves of freezing exhalations billow from the choked body of some ancient, tormented spirit, the squeal of metal on metal accompanied by viscous clonk, volatile burr, deathly electric guitar sting and the chatter of vampire bats streaming through dark forests. “Kommunion” is a work in two parts, the first fading up to deep, floor-vibrating bass vocal chanting, magma-heated bass pads, searing washes and rolling arpeggios that are then dunked underwater, muffled and muted before finally emerging into a chamber of steam-engines powering a shuffling, syncopated production line with the occasional moustache-twirling zither of piano strings. Then there’s the aptly named “Unction” that struggles stickily to life to the pulse of huge generators, freakish strings and ghastly, ailing arrhythmic coughing and spluttering. And these are just from Chrysanthe, the very first part of the series.
Pretty much every Demdike Stare release has a stylistically standout moment and in Elemental‘s case it is the pace-changing “Mnemosyne.” Inflected with tribal rhythms, squeaky chanting, tabla and a persistent, background gabble of gibberish voices that place this in the same territory as Voices of Dust‘s “Hashashshin Chant,” it’s understandable that so many people initially played it at the wrong speed. Not only does it sound more consistent with the rest of the series played at 33⅓ RPM but is arguably almost as good. Similarly, there are tracks that make each previous Demdike Stare album seem like easy listening in comparison: the black as night, jabbed piano keys and shuddering cacophony of “Violetta,” the sand-blasted alien groans, zithering strings and frost-bitten gusts of “Nuance” or “Dauerlinie”‘s bowed, dark cello, crumbling drums, and the skewed glissando peeling/squealing of a drugged, hallucinating Clanger staggering towards its doom.
It’s not all darkness and despair, however, as what is left of the light occasionally picks its way through the brittle branches of Demdike Stare’s decaying sonic forests. A dawn chorus beams dappled life on to the opening moments of “Falling Off The Edge” leading into a thudding ritualistic beat, tribal drum clatter, the twisted sound of spinning tools and warped porcelain crunching and crumbling, before ending once again with choral song that concludes in a narratively beautiful locked groove. Then there’s the pulsating buzz, slip-sliding slurs, frozen, clattering rhythms and caustic strings of “Ishamel’s Intent” ending in a blood-curling scream and searing, speaker-blowing crescendo of wow and flutter, a fitting, intense finale to the Elemental experience. One can only imagine how immersive and atmospheric these tracks must be when performed live, some of which are easily Demdike Stare’s crowning achievements to date.
Part 2 Flora, Digitally Pressed
In early 2012 and a few weeks after Iris hit stores, the previously hyped 2CD edition of Elemental was released, touted to include nearly forty minutes of completely new bonus material as well as alternate versions of tracks from the four vinyl EPs. It sounded exciting at the time, but does it live up to the hype? Well, yes and no. There are actually seven additional tracks to be found here, the first of which has been squirreled away in the pregap space before the first track on disc one, but unlike Tryptych, which clearly demarcated the supplemental material with a “(Bonus Track)” suffix and placed them at the end of each disc, no such distinction appears to have been made here. Not helped, perhaps, by the incredible strength of the primary material, many of these bonus tracks are mere sketches (“All This Is Ours (Sunrise),” “We Have Already Died”) or interludes (“Shade,” “10th Floor Stairwell”) in comparison, more often than not stalling or over-extending the listening experience rather than enhancing it. For a more immersive and fluid experience, you might want to consider investing in the excellent 15 Mai 2011 Live At The Golden Pudel Club, an extremely compelling live recording featuring a seamlessly mixed collection of tracks primarily taken from Elemental.
For better or worse, the bulk of the new material is squeezed onto the first disc, the untitled pregap track kicking Elemental off in BBC Radiophonic Workshop style, all steely whirrs, burred feedback, trickles of minimal percussion and glitch before giving way to the exquisite aquatic bubble and burble, distant clanging and chiming of “New Use For Old Circuits” one of the best of the new tracks. Indeed these two tracks and “Metamorphosis” which bookend the first disc are easily the most successful additions in the set.
“All This Is Ours (Sunrise)” draws too much attention to itself squatting at the start of disc two, revealing a pretty but ultimately rather directionless sunburst drone that employs the same building-of-static tricks as others pieces with far less success. Arguably the worst offender is “We Have Already Died,” little more than a shuffling, wood-block percussive workout with the occasional, dusty background clearing of throats that displays such a staggering lack of progression that it makes the criminal error of becoming actively boring, partially sabotaging the success of the standout final track “Ishmael’s Intent.”
But the real disappointment is the “alternate versions” included in the package, of which there are only four. Of those, “Falling Off The Edge (Alternate Version)” is little more than an extended cut with an improved, slow building introduction (inexplicably omitted from the version on Rose despite there being plenty of room on side B for it) and a far more lacklustre conclusion while “In The Wake Of Chronos (Alternate Version)” is so similar to the original it’s almost impossible to divine any difference whatsoever. “Kommunion (Alternate Version)” shares a virtually identical second part, the much softer first stripped of its impact by virtually removing the spine-tingling, vocal incantations, and “Unction (Alternate Version)” is similarly softened. In every case, the vinyl versions of the tracks are arguably superior.
Part 3 The Toxic Bouquet
You can’t fault Modern Love when it comes to lavish, multi-format deluxe packaging, but annoyingly it is the way in which Elemental has been marketed that is slightly irksome and has come under some criticism. The first two parts, entitled Chrysanthe and Violetta were only available to purchase together but came housed in the aforementioned, bespoke quadruple gatefold sleeve exquisitely designed to house all four parts. Each came in its own printed inner sleeve featuring more of Andy Votel’s evocative, signature artwork, parts three and four available individually some weeks later.
So what’s the problem? Well, firstly there’s the sheer expense and impracticality of the four-part vinyl series. It’s all very well marketing Elemental as four individual EPs, but by the time they’ve been compiled into the lovely, but extremely pricey bespoke sleeve you can’t help but take a look back in hindsight and think: “Wait one second… twelve tracks across four, three-track discs… shouldn’t this really just be a double album? Why am I paying such an exorbitant price for this?” While charging a premium for the double-pack in the bespoke quad-gatefold sleeve isn’t such a stretch—these things can’t possibly be cheap, especially in such limited runs—there really doesn’t seem to be any justifiable reason for charging so much for the subsequent two parts, both of which are EPs at best, but effectively twelve-inch singles.
And it may sound like a minor niggle, even laziness perhaps, but playback is annoying as hell! All four of these discs play at 45 RPM on one side and 33⅓ on the other, so actually sitting down to listen to the full four-part series doesn’t so much involve sitting as it does leaping up and down like a jack-in-a-box every five or ten minutes to change sides AND speeds. If you have a manual speed turntable, do yourself a favour and copy the discs to digital and either stream or burn them to a CD-R and spare yourself the constant interruptions.
The 2CD edition followed weeks later in a six panel version of the superb, oversized digifile packs that Modern Love have championed with previous releases by Demdike Stare, Andy Stott and most recently the first volume of their magnificently curated Daphne Oram Tapes series. But what on earth is the thinking behind staggering the vinyl and two disc CD editions of Elemental if not to charge fans for the release twice over? Prior releases like Tryptych or Andy Stott’s Passed Me By/We Stay Together saw these CD editions emerge some considerable time after the original EPs/albums were issued, but both Modern Love and the consumer knew from day one that a double-disc version of ‘Elemental’ was in the pipeline. Hyping the “exclusive” content of each format turned out to be the dampest squib possible as the alternate versions were alternate in only the minutest detail, and there seems little reason to have excluded the bonus tracks from the vinyl EPs, each of which had ample space to include them.
All that said, the majority of the negative comments above are really the result of expectations being set astronomically high and should not deter you from picking up one edition or another of Elemental that is, in the end, a genre twisting, high watermark from Demdike Stare that you simply cannot afford to ignore.
Elemental is available on Modern Love. Buy at iTunes, Amazon or Juno.
