The glitch isn't going to go away. Despite occasional
predictions by those in the electronic community that
the musical devices of tiny clicks, pops and 'stuck
CD' effects - pioneered by the likes of Autechre,
Matmos, Fennesz,
Raster-Noton and Oval - are just a passing trend, these
techniques seem to have ensconced themselves as an established
feature of the musical landscape. Perhaps one reason
for the longevity of these software-driven effects is
that they provide an extremely effective bridge between
abstract electronica (which through the nineties tended
to be instrumental) and the human voice. By 'glitching',
cutting the voice into fragments so as to treat it effectively
as an electronic instrument in its own right, it can
be blended into the computer soundscapes very naturally:
witness the work with vocalists of Herbert, Kieran
Hebden, Funkstörung
and Fennesz (whose
The End Of Europe with David Sylvian is a masterclass
in how extreme electronics can perfectly become part
of the structure of a timeless song), or the crazed
cut-up techno-soul of Jamie Lidell's live sets.
The closest point of comparison for laptop-and-vocals
duo Aoki Takamasa and Tujiko Noriko is probably Björk’s
work with Matmos on
her Vespertine
album (although minus the harps and other acoustic instruments).
28 certainly shares a sense of touching intimacy
and delicacy with that album, and just like it, the
tumbling patterns of clicks and hisses naturally form
part of the songs, and cut-ups of Noriko's voice blend
with her relatively untreated meandering lead vocals.
Her voice is much smoother and less mannered than Ms
Gudmundsdottir's, though, so her vocals - mostly
sung in Japanese - form more of a textural function.
The mood is contemplative throughout: on the deeply
lovely Doki Doki Last Night, the sparse rhythm
repeatedly pauses on a rising hiss sound, a dissipated
chord hangs in the air, and Noriko repeats the phrase
(in English) ‘last night I was...’, the
whole thing combining to give a sense of searching for
a memory, of something on the tip of the tongue.
Despite this thoughtful, almost tentative approach,
the whole album exudes confidence. There is no sense
of randomness to the laptop effects as can so often
be the case in glitch-based music; every crackle and
voice fragment seems to be placed as carefully as any
of the more traditionally 'musical' elements. Although
there are no acoustic instruments apparent in the sound,
this is still a very organic-sounding album, with all
the sounds extremely warm, rich and somehow non-synthetic
and the rhythms and melodies having a feel of being
played rather than programmed. Even when incongruous
elements appear, like the crashing slowed-down breakbeat
and male voice choir which sweep into the end section
of When The Night Comes. It's a shame that
the Japanese vocals and glitch techniques place this
CD in the realm of the 'exotic' or 'weird' for many
people; given a chance most people could not help but
be seduced by the truly beautiful newness and paradoxical
fragility and strength of these songs, which soar miles
above 99% of standard anodyne 'chillout' music. A real
balm for the mind.
Joe Muggs
4.3 |
