Author: harald

Carpe Sonum is proud to unveil the CD reissue of the 2005 LP-only recording from Multicast. First gaining notoriety via their own Obliq Recordings imprint back in the early oughts, Colorado-based electronic musicians Dave Alexander, Jeff Holland, and Nathan Jantz haven’t exactly vanished from the scene, releasing a slew of digital-only work in the interim. But their last appearance on a formal CD hasn’t been seen since the inspired and often-inspiring Further Obliq Perspectives in 2002 (itself a compendium of tracks from Multicast and other Obliq artists), so this reissue is indeed cause for celebration. Much has occurred both in, out, and around the various subphylum of electronic music during the past decade, and on Bahian Coastal Highway, Multicast make it abundantly clear that such diverse aesthetic approaches are integral to development and progression, as well as to the textural fiber binding the sinew of these densely calibrated tracks. The trio maintain that, “the feel we were shooting for was about arrival and departure, on a journey to Another Green World. There are Brazilian rhythms and chords, exotica and jungle references” with soundscapes conjuring “a new place, with new experiences met with open eyes.” At times, the Balearic, sunny environments suggested by most of these tracks seems at odds with the group’s former modus operandi, but then again, that’s precisely the point. Sidestepping pat categorical references, Multicast feel that this recording is their “most refined and resolved effort, featuring crystalline beauty amid soap-opera melodies, meeting in a sunny place. There is collaboration and interplay in the songwriting and structure that could only come from years of playing together, and through a telepathic musical connection.” Listening to Bahian Coastal Highway, an almost jarring array of sonic contradictions make themselves felt, but damn if the whole thing doesn’t still coalesce into a gorgeous whole. “Underdub”, for instance, might not conjure the ghosts of Eno past, but it’s solar-dappled synths, Hawaii-esque strings, and sputtering beats do in fact evoke imagistic landscapes sprouting forth all manners of chameleonic flora and fauna. Echoes of similarly-styled colleagues are evident throughout (Boards of Canada, Casino vs. Japan), but the aural melting pot that Multicast stir up feels far more pleasing to the palette; though recorded ten years ago, its embarassment of sonic riches remains thoroughly prescient. Though words such as ‘sublime’ tend to be casually bandied about when discussions of Multicast’s type of fleet electronica arise, in this case that description is spot on. It doesn’t come easy (what does?); the trio emphasize that though the end result is finely wrought during the editing process, “precision scalpel slicing and dicing can be a delicate thing.” In the case of Bahian Coastal Highway, Multicast’s keen attention to detail proffers us one helluva rich experience.

The mysterious entity known as Faex Optim is a relative newcomer on the scene, his representation made visible by net-only releases courtesy of the U.K.’s Kahvi Collective and via the artist’s requisite Soundcloud page. As usual, the braintrust here at Carpe Sonum are rescuing the good Faex Optim from his relative ‘obscurity’ and given him their aural blessing, as it were, in hard-media (neé CD) format with this quite beguiling debut.

Triskaidekaphobia breaks a bit from the the established label ‘house’ style, although truth be told, Carpe Sonum embraces eclectic sounds and myriad approaches to electronic music across the breadth of its catalog. But Faex Optim does exalt in being something of the anomaly regardless. Throughout the album, clever track titles illustrate a charmingly deceptive streak full of winsome IDM traceries that sport wide, cheshire-grinned palettesâ~@”classic ambient workouts this sure as heck isn’t. Faex Optim is apparently happy to let his gregarious ideas announce their intent within rather economical timeframes; these fifteen tracks don’t outstay their welcome, which makes for concentrated listening and more gratifying rewards. “Hollywood Dream Bubble”, for instance, recalls the sprightly historical footprints of Plaid, As One, Ochre, and any number of early provocative electronica storytellers. Across the five minute spread of the ironically-titled “Post Rock”, Faex Optim lets a faintly motorik beat anchor a nest of placid angles, widescreen whoosh, and timeless flutter, as the last breath of early aughts electronic ‘rock’ music is extinguished in a five minute grand gesture.

Elsewhere, Triskaidekaphobia exalts in revealing how rich indeed the last 40+ years of circuit-cracked musique has had such a profound effect on contemporary beatmakers, an effect filled with overwhelming affect. “I Look Like I’m from Space” manages to embrace its inner Cluster just as the piece kicks in its Warp driveâ~@”looking both backward and forward, the whole history of jaunty electronica is revealed in all its glory, writ meaty, beaty, big, and bouncy. Kudos to Faex Optim for making the old new again.

The first Carpe Sonum outing by Jacob Newman and Devin Underwood also has the distinction of being the first US-centric release on the label. Recorded in Colorado and Massachusetts and mastered in Colorado by Jason Corder (aka offthesky, himself a prolific experimental ambient artist), this new recording finds the pair on near equal footing with any number of their esteemed colleagues working a combined mojo of ambient drift and atmospheric toggle. The comparisons that acutely come to mind when discussing a work such as Sending the Past might well be obvious; not only does Pete Namlook’s ‘new environmental music’ explorations come to mind but also the taut-stretched horizons of Steve Roach, Eno’s delicate pastoralisms, the ambience (though not the strict instrumentation) of Russell Mills and Harold Budd, even the sacred space musics of practitioners as disparate as Ariel Kalma and Laraaji. What unites this slew of aesthetes together, Newman and Underwood included, is their love of landscape, place, total recall, and mental moving pictures. Over the course of a mere four minutes, “The Elusive” distills such phenomena in lucid, specfic detail, as a series of deliciously coaxed sonic entrails spiral out like gossamer webs, unidentifiable noises phosphoresce, and alien raindrops speckle across far-flung tundra. It’s a beguiling track that, like the finer moments on Eno’s On Land or Roach’s Structures from Silence, beckons you in to its womb-like formations and demands a suspension of time and space. Newman and Underwood’s modus operandi seems to mimic most other purveyors of contemporary ambient-space ritual, noting that like their brethren they “love to explore drones and tones, textures and spaces, as well as subtle melody.” That such nuance pervades Sending the Past is no surprise; they feel that this new recording differentiates itself somewhat from their established ‘template’, “proceeding in new directions as we continue to explore musical ideas and processing techniques”, but it’s their preternatural gift for intriguing sound design that sets the duo apart from the pack. In their case, Past makes perfect.

After a mere handful of striking releases on the Elektrolux family of labels, the enigmatic music of German trio Drøn finds a home on Carpe Sonum, and what a blazing debut it is. Mastered by the inimitable AtomTM (aka the ever-morphing Uwe Schmidt, founder of the Rather Interesting label & frequent FAX/Namlook collaborator), Comm recalls nothing less than the electrifying, halcyon days of the 90s, where were birthed the kind of mutant IDM/electro hybrids that Drøn spin ever-so-compellingly. A teeming microverse of simmering percussive patterns, randy oscillators, and hugely inventive modular synth acrobatics, Comm might well be the finest yet from a trio of unsung innovators carrying the torch of a bygone era well into the future. The members of Drøn—Christoph Abert, Frederik Dahlke, Ingo Zobel—make it abundantly clear that spontaneity is a key ingredient in successfully realizing their intricate, multi-spatial beatstorms. In a studio housing a cat’s cradle of more than 250 synth modules, they ‘conceptualize’ without actually devising a concept; for them, the font of sonic creation resides in a “dynamic process that is very mood-dependent, where nothing is planned beforehand, and ideas are allowed to process naturally and flow freely.” After considering numerous iterations, the trio insist that Comm’s end result, and it’s attendant ‘concept’, “emerges on its own” and with an identity forged from the effort “not to copy ourselves, which ensures that every album is different from the one before.” Far from understating the case, the whipsnapping tableau adorning the breadth of Comm speaks for itself. Throughout reams of juicy squelch and some of the most evocative analog arias unheard since the heyday of labels like GPR, Focus, Satamile, and, yes, Rather Interesting, Drøn have wrought what might eventually be considered a modern classic of expert knob twiddling.

Originally released digitally on Iboga in 2014, Live on the Roadblog is the latest full-length by Saafi Brothers, comprised of longtime dubtech-nician Gabriel Le Mar and partner Michael Kohlbecker, making its CD debut on the Novum sublabel of Carpe Sonum. The origins of Saafi Brothers are long and storied, their brand of smoky, world-weary ambient dub first arising from the Blue Room label in the 90s, and running concurrent with Le Mar’s numerous other projects, either solo or in tandem with other bong-busting wunderkinds. Gabriel Le Mar’s beginnings arose like many of his 90s colleagues from the ashes of the club, where the sturm und drang of bodybeat was at the epicenter of atmosphere. Le Mar’s tendencies towards compositional variety lifted him well out of the dancefloor ghetto to advance his visions of an anarchic, far-flung, ‘post-dance’ music. Effortlessly hard-wiring the strident lilt of original dubplate, Middle Eastern vibes, and Asiatic mosaics to a contemporary matrix of high-tech electronics, Le Mar singlehandedly tapped into a singular type of machine age voodoo. Within the larger remit of Saafi Brothers, Le Mar and Kohlbecker augured a long history of interwoven reverb and delay into a labyrinthine fabric of Orb-like, fourth-world fancy and spongiform rhythmic shudder. Live on the Roadblog is no different, but its hypnotic, rubbery textures and keening artificial interzones would make even Adrian Sherwood swoon. Le Mar and Kohlbecker at this point have far transcended their psychedelic trance roots, as evidenced by a track such as In the Eye of the Storm, where arcing Kraftwerkian pulses whir over, about, and under sinuous basslines, ghost-voices, and some spectacularly immersive rhythm programming. We’re delighted to be releasing this bold work on Carpe Sonum Novum; like fine wine, the Brothers have only improved with age.Live on the Roadblog includes a gorgeous 8-page “travelogue”-style booklet designed by Simon Ghahary (and this additional artwork is the reason for the higher-than-normal pricing).

Stripped reveals a veritable jungle of masterful mastodonian beat madness of a type not seen in electronic circles for decades. At once gleefully and respectfully signifying the engaging 90s era of IDM while simultaneously pointing into a far more cybernetic aural future, Stripped is hardly that; it’s somewhat more ‘streamlined’ than Le Mar’s early works, but that hardly diminishes its brilliant, complex, and magnetic sound design, where the listener’s attention is so engaged one must literally react to the rhythm. Le Mar’s rep amongst the post-dance glitterati is long secure, yet one can’t ignore the fact that there’s a reason he’s so admired despite a mere handful of recordings over the past 25+ years. Whether solo or under the guise of Saafi Brothers, Le Mar has the uncanny ability to turn a series of percussive skeins into one immersive harmonic convergence, deftly lacing up an assortment of melodic/rhythmic fragments into energizing knots of dubwise shift and burning techno chrome. Pulse becomes central to Stripped’s molten core; synths unleash both whooshing arpeggios as well as great yawning chasms of sound that nearly swallow the hurtling beats. Le Mar manages to balance the power struggle between stasis and momentum so the end result becomes even more stimulating to the inner ear. Stripped might well be one of the more disingenuously-titled albums in electronica. The descriptor is easily betrayed by Le Mar’s characteristic liquid squelch, digital snap and pop, and the sheer miasmic surface tension of the entire enterprise. And the better we listeners are for it.

The last time we heard from Petter Friberg, better known under his nom de disque Motionfield, was through his sole physical CD release Optical Flow, on the defunct Somnia label, way back in 2008. He hasn’t exactly been idle since then, keeping busy releasing download-only albums on a fairly regular basis. Those outings, however, seem but prelude to Luftrum, a beautifully sculpted multi-segment creation of ambient art which marks his triumphant return to more permanent media. Luftrum is that rare work, one that spotlights an artist working at a level of craft that far exceeds his years. Stylistically, the album harkens back to some of the weightier moments first starmapped by the Euro masters of kosmische but there’s a persistent ‘symphonic’ flavor linking the various movements that encompasses ages both new and old. Friberg effortlessly butts textures and layers against one another, mixing sounds of varying hues that alter both mind and mood. But Luftrum has many introspective moments peppered throughout the galactic expanse; it’s third movement in particular utilizes the pitter-patter of little beats to exude an earthbound psychedelia. Motionfield is certainly an apt moniker, as Friberg’s colorful eddies suggest anything but minimalist drone stasis. As tones stretch and time loses its kinetic sense, there’s enough cellular activity energizing Luftrum’s body sonica to make its hour-plus duration feel like one fluid day’s journey into night. Mastered by Manual mainman Jonas Munk, whose intuitive touch skillfully augments Friberg’s sound and vision.

Sinine Platoo was originally released in 2002, then reissued digitally with two bonus tracks in early 2013. Later that year, Carpe Sonum was born and contact was made with Galaktlan regarding a CD release. Sinine Platoo is an album of beautiful otherworldly electronica, chock full of warm, soaring melodies which might remind you of Arovane, or perhaps an easy listening version of Autechre.

From the original press release (slightly edited):

Sinine Platoo began as a study of fractal music. The tracks Sulase surm, Videoton, Tekitaja, Num and Sulase surm repriis contain melodic sequences generated via mathematical algorithms. The conclusion was that it’s possible for a machine to generate beautiful, emotional music–when ordered to do so. The truth is, music is math and emotions are in the eyes of the beholder.

Originally sent to Pete Namlook in 2006, Tales of Ten Worlds is certainly a storied release. Namlook responded kindly and praised the album, but declined to release it–noting that by then FAX had moved away from the palpable classic FAX sound of this album. Since that time, Tales of Ten Worlds has circulated among the FAX cognoscenti, and some have considered it “the one that got away.” In 2013, Si completely reworked two of the tracks and revisited the others, repairing some production issues that existed in the early version. The result is a sublime masterwork of ambient electronica filled with lush synths, ornate melodies, and delicate rhythms–all the necessary ingredients which harken back to the classic FAX label sound. Renew your passport, pack your bags, and prepare yourself for a journey through ten breathtaking sonic landscapes.

The ten tracks that comprise OI represent the culmination of a seven-year bicontinental journey, from North America to India and back. John Sobocan, aka Bubble, dreamt that Sathya Sai Baba had beckoned him to India, so off to India he went. Consequently, half of the tracks were recorded in Puttaparthi, within 200 meters of Sathya Sai Baba, and the other half were recorded 13000 km west, while John was dog sitting in a remote area north of Toronto. Even though the tracks were recorded in disparate locations, they share a common theme of zen-like spiritual ambience. Quench your sonic thirst with this heavenly brew combining a generous helping of environmental field recordings alongside serene, meditative compositions that uplift and calm the spirit.