(01.26.06) Merck’s latest compilation, Aurora 2, is an ambient journey
that has been hard to listen to. Merck has recently announced they’ll
be closing up shop sometime in 2006 when they release their 50th CD
and LP. Aurora 2 is the 36th release and is, in my mind, much
too close to the end. A departure from their regular programming, the
ambience of Aurora 2 is tinged with sadness, a slow fade to
black that is heartbreaking to hear.
While Ginormous’ “To Reveal Interiors” peaks with a huge rush of
sound, it comes with such delicacy and grace that it feels ephemeral,
a burst of light that is already transparent by the time it reaches
its peak. Sabi’s “Uki Reflection” is an ocean of sound, both literal
and metaphorical as the tones wash back and forth over a field
recording from a beach. Though, it is the sound of children playing,
giving an Arovane-esque touch to the track, which lends it a wistful
air. Sabi’s other contribution, “Black Ink, Dancing In A Rainstorm,”
is a gorgeous piece of wind and sticks and light percussion over a
wave of watery ambience, a rolling rushing flood of sound which easily
overwhelms the listener and transports you along hidden streams to
secret pools and waterfalls.
Max Spransy’s “The Lights in the Sky Are Stars” opens with a dim
reverberation and echoing piano notes, a plaintive melody that is
clearly lost in the vastness of the sky. As a washing machine adds a
percussive rhythm to the piece, a flamenco-inflected guitar lightly
trips through a sequence of notes, wringing a sweet song of vanished
love. Blamstrain’s ten minute “Spring/Summer” is a slow burn, filled
with echoing bells that grow more strident as the background material
becomes darker and more menacing. This is the spring of dark storms,
the change from gentle rain and bright sun to tornadoes and dry,
pervasive heat. Twerk’s “From Brown to Green” uses glitch dub as the
basis for its lament and is filled with echoes so deep you can fall
into them completely. Voices try to make themselves heard but are
always cut off by the resonating clatter of an overbearing squirt of
fragmented melody.
Kettel offers two tracks that are environmentally rich, filled with
synthesizer melodies that soar like pigeons being released while tiny
mechanical engines make miniscule noises underneath; while Cepia’s
“Ncoin Arrange” feels like a flower folding in on itself, filled with
melodies that curl back on themselves as metallic percussion hints at
a rhythm but decays too quickly to have any shape. The Shapeshifters
close out the hour with “Tranquil Vapor,” a slumbering symphony of
winds and tones and moving fluids that sends me into a trance-like
state. The song ends the ambient journey with a lingering finality, a
diminishing series of echoes that speak of an era drawing to a close.
It’s a fitting end to a record which opened with such an expansive
anthem of enlightened acceptance (Deru’s horizon-bending “Only The
Circle,” filled with a cascade of marimbas and a elegiac hiss of dusty
static).
I’m going to miss you Merck, and thanks for the introspective moment
offered by Aurora 2. I’m glad this isn’t the last record of
the label; it works well here and now where we can grieve in private,
quietly. There are fourteen more records to go. I hope they set all
the decks on fire.
Aurora 2 is out now on Merck.
