Easychord encourages us to listen closely to the slowly swirling eddies he stirs up, to understand what we hear, our own private interpretation of the aural data obtained.
[Release page] Textured abstraction like Easychord’s can be a porthole. Layers as delicately stacked as these are penetrable. As with certain abstract paintings, if you stare at it long enough, if you let yourself become swept up in Easychord’s gently shimmering ambient, you will see. This Italian artist’s media are mixed electronic and acoustic—synthesizers and piano, guitar too perhaps—all looped and stratified, a new wave overlapping the last one as it ebbs and recedes, blue and green, no glaring colours to draw attention to any particular detail.
In the seventies, critic John Berger explained abstract art “as if the painting—absolutely still, soundless— becomes a corridor, connecting the moment it represents with the moment at which you are looking at it,” because it transcends the precise moment in the world, capturing its persisting essence. Think of Not in My Family Tree like this, as “absolutely sound, formless” and how it can offer privileged access to reality betraying the moment for the longer now. Persistent essence is another way of saying, it stands the test of time.
Easychord encourages us to listen closely to the slowly swirling eddies he stirs up, to understand what we hear, our own private interpretation of the aural data obtained. Although I hear melody here and there and at times, it evokes certain moods or specific things, I imagine you would hear something else altogether, as would the next listener and the next.
The disc is beautifully housed deep at the bottom of a 21 x 13 cm glossy black paperboard envelope with a print mounted on the front.
Not in My Family Tree is available on Heart and Soul. [Release page]
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