What I hear is existing simultaneously, a pattern is gathered and then begins cycling, with improvisations with how the pattern is expressed, trading solo jams within the marching machine cadence.
A fugue of pressure rising
Electronic storytelling, which leaves everything to your imagination. What I hear is existing simultaneously, a pattern is gathered and then begins cycling, with improvisations with how the pattern is expressed, trading solo jams within the marching machine cadence. What catches my interest is when some sounds are out of context, like looking into a spy peephole view of a mountain lake. The instrumentation includes Buchla modular, Eurorack modular, Korg opsix, plus all that imagination, from Tálknafjörður, Iceland.
Marching up, “In Dust Real” (6:12), low buzzing tones band together and make a locomotive sounding machine always slowly building in strength and repeating endlessly like creatures of the night, signaling in the darkness. The feeling I get is powerful and persistent. Who is that unknown individual? Meet “Mister E” (5:14) who sounds to me like one robot man dancing, long, slow and steady, and because in popular common legends, men always make a big deal about women, maybe the electronic sounds represent a dialog. That’s the thing about music, your explanation of what we hear is probably going to be complex, and might differ from what I hear. “Spectral” (5:47) I hear kinetic simmering and midway through. There is a break, a change while keeping the forward velocity. Galloping percussion takes over, there is an evolving spectrum of galloping forms, one after another. The sound gets rather peppy and agile, fast paced with melodic little gems traded back and forth. “Holographic” (5:02) might be fast data chatter, how computers talk on the original Star Trek, fast flashing sounds. Now add the Parallel World’s beats, and rotate the framework.
Spellbound by what is flickering by ::
I appreciate the abundance of interlocking patterns, creating a call and response back and forth, tucked into the overall composition. “Isolation” (5:16) I don’t expect you, to understand, the world is just a little town, but then, the sun will never disappear. What I hear feels huge and it is growing, building in intensity, no beats, just pressure, a fugue of pressure rising, is this forever or is something going to pop? Answer: forever. “Time Multiplier” (5:36) It seems like an extra long silence between the tracks, there is a very slow fade in. I hear a cave orchestra deep and dark in the back of the cavern. Is that the sound of waves crashing on a beach way off out there? Nope. Enter the beats, and the tempo gets lively, along comes the dancing robot, about half way through the track, and the feeling starts swinging, then builds to vanish into the echoes. “Reflections” (6:15) builds again from silence, the song fades in, soon the beat gets on it, interlocking melodic dance moves that fade into a sparkling infinity at the end of the track. I hear chirpy birdbots dancing, singing their day song, within a slowly building overstructure. The twirling birdbots wind through the structural forms, coming and going, playing at a brisk pace. Perhaps we are in a train looking out of the window, spellbound by what is flickering by.
Nice big fragments catch and repeat, the background forms react and frame melodic subtleties, and the dance continues. “Sinesculpture” (6:10) I could be watching someone in a movie, who is in turn watching a movie and dancing. The building rhythm machine brings a series of environments all set within the beat. The beat is returned and the sonic nuggets hidden in its forms, which react and in turn frame the melodies. The dance continues and fades into the past slowly.
Móatún 7 is a record label, operated by Futuregrapher, focusing on releasing 7” lathe cut vinyl and sometimes other formats as well. Physical copies are limited, but digital is always available. Lathe cuts are done in Iceland by vinyll.is — limited to 30 pressings for each release. CD’s, or other formats, are done in larger quantities.
Reflection is available on Móatún 7. [Bandcamp]
