Textured ambience of particulate detail, awash in harmonic liquid replete with grainy infusions, with Alluvium M&D presumably seeks both to represent and in so doing add resonance via the anchorage of entitling—mostly here with mineral and rock tags.
Alluvium (Latin, alluvius (n.), from alluere (vb.), ‘to wash against’) is loose unconsolidated sediment, eroded, reshaped by water in some form, and re-deposited in a non-marine setting—typically made up of fine particles of silt and clay and larger ones of sand and gravel. And Alluvium it is that gives its name to the latest from one of current ambient-drone and electro-acoustic’s most prolific producers, Tim Martin, though the Diagram man’s maps have seen relatively less service lately, perhaps reflecting a need for respite after the constant motion 0f recent years covered in a ‘view of Tim-released sound—a stream of releases bookended by Get Lost (2011) (and its reissue on Handstitched*) and thematic sequel, In Circles (2013), and a further multi-rear-view, rounded off with Being Empty (Unknown Tone) in igloo’s tops of 2013.
Textured ambience of particulate detail, awash in harmonic liquid replete with grainy infusions, with Alluvium M&D presumably seeks both to represent and in so doing add resonance via the anchorage of entitling—mostly here with mineral and rock tags, cf. “Hornblende” and “Jasper.” It’s a signifying strategy previously deployed with cosmic and geographic rather than geological targets. The tone is set with “Mica” voicing quavering melodies, with traces of Kosmische-tinged synth collusion, field recording infusions, lo-fi noise skirting, tape and analog FX flirting.These are as if mini-soundtracks to unoccupied zones of the imagination. “Quartz” starts with a backdrop of looped static and vinyl crackle gradually occupied by guitar-pluck resonance, arpeggiating synth-harp smeared with Nu-New Age Dolphins Into The Future-y daubings. The album’s gradual elapse brings interludes, eclipses and ellipsis. “Red” and “Variolite”—more refined vignettes of Budd-ist twilight twinkle and Labradfordian guitar gloaming. “Oolite”–a stretched sketch of hyper-timbral tintinnabulation and microsound vapour trails. “Kohle”–a spectral glide through ear space, building into foam-flecked swell. “Flint”–a sea of fizzing circuitry and shale-like in your shell-like sprayed like a gritty wash over a rich canvas. Mmm, that’s “Gneiss”—a field-found loam, saturated and filtered, fertile ground for etiolated sound going underground.
‘I have always tried to keep Maps and Diagrams on the verge of reality and speculation […]’ mused ‘Maps’ Martin (Headphone Commute) a few years ago. And Alluvium’s contents are ample, and varied, real and speculative, to make it another quietly compelling soundtrack for your head space cinema, couched in artfully balanced life-affirming tones—neither too dense nor too wispy, neither too gloopy nor ethereal; winsome without tumbling into twee, brooding without slumping into sullen. Alluvium may be pacific but is no mere comfort blanket, running through it an artful balance between the warm familiarity of instruments and a subtle alienation effect deriving from their processing.Its fourteen tracks are (well, were, to be precise) offered not only as a regular CD ltd to 50, but also split into three numbered sections as three dinky 3″ CDs in an even smaller edition of just 40. With such limited runs, face it, blink or not, most of us were going to miss them, so, both physical editions being long gone, the only way is down(load).
Alluvium is available on Handstitched*.
