The project focuses on sound textures, an exploration rather than a pure melody, at others, the feeling comes across like the low-end rumble of a beat-less Berlin nightclub seeping up through the floorboards.
A work that is beautiful as often as it’s uncomfortable
The album casts an ominous air, resourcing some inspiration from nature reclaiming the planet from mankind, animal rights, abandoned buildings, empty cities in the morning, a time for death and rebirth as if told through a philosophical drone. A world filled with the fractured snippets of digital strings and orphaned voices.
It’s decidedly macabre stuff, though pleasingly contemplative, with contrasting layers of ambiance and distortion that are masterfully woven together to create a work that is beautiful as often as it’s uncomfortable. Melding occult field-recordings with bone-shattering synthesis, I understand that Succulent Succubus is a pivot in Federico Balducci & fourthousandblackbirds’ ongoing collaboration.
The music of Puerto Rican guitarist and composer Federico Balducci can be described as a mixture of classical and ambient music with unusually intricate harmonies; and fourthousandblackbirds is the project of experimental audiovisual artist Albérick based in Montreal, Canada.
As if exploring Albert Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus and the philosophy of absurdity, to my ears the sound sometimes feels like the lost soundtrack to an art-house horror flick. The duo question human existence through themes of the chemical process of decomposition of a corpse and resurrection, a mode of deconstruction and re-creation that is evident in their invocative sound world. The project focuses on sound textures, an exploration rather than a pure melody, at others, the feeling comes across like the low-end rumble of a beat-less Berlin nightclub seeping up through the floorboards.
The first track might be a short film, maybe all the tracks are short films. “Digital Witchcraft” (5:54) opens with all those blackbirds, they are very calm and electronically twittering amongst themselves, and there is a guitar nimbly noodling. I think that we are out in the jungle wilderness. There are birds and pianos, nothing is real. Everything is both unnatural and supernatural. Someone is speaking in there, she has the voice of an expert. I cannot make out much of any of the words but I hear the tone of the lesson, broken in all the echoes and textures, she dissolves. Ghost caves fleeting with fluttering flying things. Now she is back, the one who was speaking earlier. Some of the words are easier to make out, until we are left with just the electronic birds. I’m going back again.
Ghost caves fleeting with fluttering flying things ::
The next track’s title is longer than the track’s play time, there is a video too. “Once calcium is introduced into the cytosol, it binds to the troponin of thin filaments” (1:58) which has a dark resonating and complex ear, with a melodic vibe, hidden deep within a nest of orchestral strings and pizzicato heard through cavernous electronics. By the end of the track, we are inside another very large cave with deep water and ships in the distance. Or maybe not, I am often wrong about these kinds of musical illusions.
Now think of springtime, with bright pretty strings and breathing vocalizations. Don’t blink. “Flies Part 1 – Sarcophagidae (Flesh-flies)” (5:16) this is more celestial sounding in a sense, more than the suggestion of organic flying insects in musical feeling, but from a bug’s point of view. This could be a bright and holy thing, very sparkly and shimmering, always just sort of hanging there. Soon we take a turn and the distances quietly explode. I think I hear someone. But who is she?
Or maybe she was never here. I think that the song title suggests mortal darkness, but the sound has a hopeful vibe, with edges that drop into infinity below. Way down there, where there are floating horns fading out. “The Muscular Tissues Become Rigid and Incapable of Relaxing” (4:04) while listening to this it makes me think of little creatures in a small tree. Hidden in the leaves, the sound is a sustained tone with strings and drones. Now it gets closer and closer, the harsh electronic textures conflicting with the green glowing drones, like angry squirrels fussing. The scale increases. What if your cat was 15 feet tall? My eyes are wavering, I fade out. “Synchronicity” (4:54) is where we enter to see the lost legions signaling through the shield, just behind the glass. I hear woodwinds and electronics in a large metal box, a dragon on a stick, and chimes in a large cathedral. Over there someone is walking cautiously in a thicket. I hear a dialog with a buzzer and a prayer bowl. A deep science riddle, I think this new one is immediately related to organic chemistry. “32g of nitrogen 10g of phosphorus 4g of potassium and 1g of magnesium for every kilogram” (2:59) where an orchestra awakens in a deeply frozen place. I dig a creaky dark listen. Something slow and sustained. Sometimes I think of a talking choir merging into one singular tone, the sense of motion is spectacular. A singularity, a persistent feeling of being far from anybody, and getting further.
Those flies have returned, the “Flies Part 2 – Calliphoridae (Blow-flies)” (2:34) which opens and the machine turns on and heats up. There is the feeling of hand percussion deep inside the electronica. Flowing and coasting, we get going and things calm down, for a spell the mood gets quiet, eventually there comes a drone, slowly moving, dark and spooky. Look for the simultaneous layers in motion, most of the initial exuberance is reformed so perfectly, darn calm and steady. Suggesting a complex sadness that is paradoxically hopeful overall. Now for a very slow fade in, “The Moberly-Jourdain Incident” (2:39) begins, taking a slow approach. I hear a distant heartbeat in the mix, a presence that feels hidden and low down. Then, something comes along, in through some slowly banging metallic ducts, with endless echoes. I imagine anthropomorphic robot features upon the face of this new emerging drone, now at last there is a beat, or are those laser shots? The blasts are eventually diminishing. This is all far away in the distance, from here it can be hard to hear.
Here, this next short film starts with emerging moonlight in a tangle of slow horns and harmonics, “The excessive brittleness and fragility of the moon” (1:00) which takes place in a huge sky. Look, the moon is just barely held, thinner than ever, then it fades out.
Everything is dark and then something is coming, “Vacuum” (1:57) has a slight carnival feel, with a keyboard that mysteriously wheezes. I remember we were moving slowly and then these strange monsters were talking to us, everything is in slow motion. Somehow the strange monsters are not scary, the sound is sometimes backwards, and usually set at the wrong speed. Everything settles eventually, until the final room is quiet, with that hint of carnival, and the monsters hiding in the dark.
“20220224” (2:16) begins with sirens, but far away, as if there were hot summer thunder tonight, or the sound of something big bumping into something else big, just way on up there. Now there is an alarm (I hate alarms) over and over, a sharp buzz or shocking sound, until the strings and echoes rescue me. I hope so. Perhaps the alarm does stop and things wrap up nicely.
The next track begins all creaky and dark, something big is hiding out there for sure this time. It is “The Succulent Succubus” (2:38). Please stop all of the wars. We can have a better idea, the melody might be from the circus upwind or it might be some machines working. There could not be a choir of lady specters, it turns out to be a keyboard. Eternally the mood becomes even more dark and spooky, with echoes. There is a voice trying to break through, maybe shortwave? I love darkness and spooky noises, this one has a cold ending, very abrupt. Why so glum? “Up to 15 years in prison and fines of up to 5 million rubles” (2:12) an angelic wilderness with no hope, but there is spirit stuck in here with me. I am kept alive with remembering the noodling guitar in a bright sunny electronic room. Sometimes there are strange squeaking or grinding noises fading in while the guitar noodles on. I think this is very pleasant and thought inspiring. I need to explain that there is also some kind of rusty machine in there too. Now think about this: “George Washington never knew dinosaurs existed” (1:52).
Those were mean old dinosaurs ::
Things begin with some scratchy antiquated kinds of chamber music in the glitch, and the simulation of a feverish fog, and accurately depicted approximations of the scary monsters in the cave. I hear a bevy of strings. Now contrast this with the electronic screaming string ensemble and some harsh laser beam sounds. To some, some of the electronics can be quite unpleasant, but I think it fits. Those were mean old dinosaurs.
Now we come to the final puzzle. “Mussels Muscles” (1:58), what if I told you the tempo sounds like a bromance dance for statues? I can imagine pits and bits of hissing sibilance, and some field recordings of construction sounds. I tell you there are strings, or ghosts of strings, hidden in there too. The track has soon got sort of a simple beat, yes it is catchy…
And then it is gone.
Recorded by Federico Balducci & Albérick between March 2022 and June 2023, with field recording on track 11 by StasTeterevlev, and Mixed by Albérick. Federico Balducci has a Bachelor’s Degree in Film Scoring from the prestigious Berklee College of Music. Currently, he mostly works on film scores for short films and documentaries.
Federico & Albérick have been working together since 2018 and have never met in person. The duo, described by local music critics as a philosophical drone, has released albums on labels such as Lurker Bias and Somewherecold and is currently working on a new album based on Les Mouches (The Flies) by Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980).
Succulent Succubus is available on Difficult Art And Music. [Bandcamp | Site]
