… both a plangent and disquieting experiencing. — e/i magazine, ÉU
iambroken… wasn’t so much created as it was wrenched from the collective guts of Mitchell Akiyama and Joshua Treble. Recorded over an intense two week session in Cincinnati, the duo’s follow-up to their critically acclaimed debut, Climate Variations, is a powerful hybrid of live instrumental performance and shattered electronics. As on Climate Variations, the guitar remains central in Désormais’ new work, but iambroken… finds the group incorporating piano and viola as well as contributions on drums by Eric Craven (Hanged Up), cello by Becky Foon (A Silver Mount Zion) and vocals by Jenna Robertson. iambroken… ranges in sound and scope from Steve Reich to Godspeed you! black emperor with a fragmented sensibility akin to Fennesz or Oval. It is a mature and powerful work from two musicians that continue to turn ears.
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- Étiquette: Intr_version
- INTR 007 / 2003
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Mitchell Akiyama’s first release under the Désormais moniker, Climate Variations, followed hard on the heels of Fennesz’s Endless Summer, crystallizing the “dronewash glitchscape” sub-genre. Iambroken… is a more extreme exploration of similar territory, attended by glitched-out sonics, incorporating elements of abstract noise haze, guitar shards, massed strings, and rogue drum loops. Abrasive, but with a soft center, spiky, but through a haze, this is a work of radical glitchery, feeding post-rock through digital depredations as Endless Summer did with ’60s guitar-strummy dream pop. From Now On kicks off in bizarre hybrid territory wearing Désormais’ influences - Fennesz, Godspeed You! Black Emperor and MBV - on its sleeve, along with what sounds like a Middle Eastern chamber orchestra tuning up. Then acoustic guitar plays over an ominous build-up of drone textures. On No Mysteries Can Be Tolerated a massive outfolding of plucked strings disappears inside itself, then suddenly all hell breaks loose, drums falling from the skies amid viola entropy. A maelstrom of sawed strings inside a vortex of thrashed skins becomes progressively squeezed and filtered into nothing. On Broken Images and Pockets of Folded Light, a drunken bottleneck guitar weeps, gradually undergirded by a more sober relative. A Moroccan percussion incursion and faux-classical stabs transport the listener elsewhere. Under a Watching Sky does for glitch-guitar what MBV did for indie-thrash, making explicit the theorem of exponential glitch = the new feedback. On To Sing Before Going to Sleep, hugely reverberant and fretboard-squeaking acoustic is effectively milked for its overtones. The off-tune drone unanimity breaks up into skin-pummeling entropy, too grainy to distinguish rhythm and sound, disappearing down-a-tunnel darkly. Lullaby for Those Too Seared to Sleep sees the murk clearing, with a lighter major-after-all-the-minor feel. A terribly hopeful/wonderfully lost finale ebbs as if to nothing, recoups its strength, is dubbed out, then eaten up by electronics. Finally “assembled,” Iambrokenandremadeiambroken… is both a plangent and disquieting experiencing.