Tech-hop. Kusjuures jälle on süüdi Kanada (kui päritolumaa). Dustin Craig on mehe nimi ja see, mis ta teeb, eemaldub nii paljudest klieedest, nii hip- kui ka avant-hopi omadest, et on põhjust tähele panna. See pole ka mingi veretu hübriid indiga, mida hip-hopis viimasel ajal ette on tulnud. Muusika on endiselt käre, kuid mitte peavoolu paugutamine ega ka mitte ainult heli(efekti)de salatile rõhuv nagu mingit liiki avant-hop. Headphone Science on igati loogiline ja sidus, kohati instrumentaalne, kohati dnb-stiilis MC-ga. Tavalisest hip-hopist eristab see, et HS lisab käigupõhisele meloodiale veel ühe, pikema meloodiakihi, mis lähendab teda IDM-le (nagu ka see, et see meloodia loo arenedes muutub). Prefuse 73 ja Common on audis. 8/10.

Produced in 1999, before Tomas Jirku’s debut CD Variants, Bleak 1999 came out in mid-2003. Its release could be interpreted as a sign of how Jirku was caught off guard by his relative success. Then again, it can be seen as a gift to fans waiting for a follow-up to Entropy. Recycling or not, Bleak 1999 is an excellent disc, displaying a surprising level of maturity for an artist who was still forging his approach. More dance-oriented than Variants (i.e. closer in sound to Jirku’s alias The Viceroy), this generous album (73 minutes) combines clicks ’n’ cuts, radio transmissions, and textural experiments. Nothing really new, you might say, there are plenty of electronic artists working in these fringes. True, but this album stands out because of the highly convincing balance the artist has reached between these elements. Click house beats surface to urge you on (Haloperidol, Ca), short abstract cuts (Clindamycin, LiCO₃) throw things off balance regularly to check if you’re paying attention. A melody is sketched in wide strokes, a song structure can almost be recognized in the addition and subtraction of sound layers. Above all that is Jirku’s knack for keeping things from stretching out too long. His tracks make sense, they please the ear on first listen and captivate the imagination for many more. A comparison could be made with CoH, but Ivan Pavlov’s music has a dirty sense of humor that Jirku replaces with something more naive, almost tender. Recommended to both fans and newcomers.

Listening to a Books on Tape album is a bit like watching an old detective series. You know all the cliches: the cars, the girls, the guns, the attitudes, and yet every time one of those features pop up on the screen you can’t help but smile and be glad they’re still there. Not to say that Todd Drootin uses the same tricks over and over, but he does get into that zone where you are not surprised when he tries to surprise you. And that’s just perfect. Kid606 does something similar but with a cynicism that makes your teeth grind. Sings the Blues is instead a labor of good-humored pranskterism and double-dare dance tunes. No source is sacred: Drootin plunders everything, from electronica to rock ‘n’ roll, not to mention free jazz — who’s that saxophone in The Crucial that is looped into an insisting leitmotiv? The technique is crudely basic: sample unrelated tunes, loop and reconstruct them into pieces that will run around like baby Frankenstein monsters — they bump into each other, put themselves back together and start running again in a different direction. The melody is constantly cheerful, simplistic, irresistible. In fact, you could say that Books on Tape is the missing link between Kid606 and Felix Kubin. Highlights include Republic Of, She’s Dead To Me, the spooky Frisson and the aforementioned The Crucial. It’s all good chopped-up, jerky, yet very sleek fun.

Après une première collaboration à l’occasion de la compilation Miniatures concrètes en 1998, on ne s’étonne pas de retrouver aujourd’hui sur le label canadien empreintes DIGITALes le suédois multi-primé Åke Parmerud pour un enregistrement personnel de six somptueuses pièces électroacoustiques conçues entre 1986 et 1994.

Basé à Montréal, le label empreintes DIGITALes est en quelque sorte la référence incontournable pour tout passionné de musique électroacoustique. Créé il y a plus de 10 ans maintenant, il compte dans son catalogue la crème des compositeurs canadiens et mondiaux du genre.

Réunies sous le titre Jeu d’ombres, faisant probablement référence à l’atmosphère intrigante de chacune d’elles, ces six compositions signées Åke Parmerud sont de véritables bijoux de musicalité et de technique mariant à la perfection la richesse des harmoniques instrumentales et la froideur des sonorités synthétiques (cf la harpe de Sofia Asunción Claro exceptionnellement appropriée sur le morceau Strings & Shadows).

Témoin de la formation classique du compositeur et de sa pratique instrumentale, c’est aussi et surtout cette maîtrise étonnante du rythme qui donne à ses pièces la vigueur et l’épaisseur tragique faisant trop souvent défaut aux compositeurs contemporains européens, encombrés d’une atonalité devenue obligatoire.

Il faut croire que le Suédois se moque éperdument de ce genre de considérations, impression confirmée lorsqu’on l’entend utiliser sans complexe d’antiques instruments comme la viole de gambe et le luth, réunis pour l’exécution d’une danse guillerette de la Renaissance à la fin d’un morceau très dense lui-même élaboré à partir de vieux synthétiseurs analogiques (Renaissance, 1994).

Même remarque quand sur Retur (1992-93), il triture des solos de Charlie Parker en juxtaposant bandes originales, composition pour quatuor de saxophones et effets synthétiques métalliques en une sorte d’hommage qui réussit miraculeusement à ne pas tomber dans le pillage bas de gamme.

Et c’est véritablement cette décontraction dans son approche de l’histoire de la musique qui permet à Parmerud de toujours garder claire son intention et de ne pas définitivement larguer son auditeur quand pourtant sa musique est bien loin des ritournelles standardisées, musique contemporaine comprise.

À la fois décomplexé et rigoureux, étudié et accessible, ce Jeu d’ombres est donc résolument le disque à se procurer pour se réconcilier à la fois avec l’électroacoustique et plus généralement avec la musique contemporaine.

Funny, downtempo, uptempo, slightly experimental, melodic. All keywords of Books on Tape Sings the Blues. The only thing possible missing is the blues.

Those who know Books on Tape a bit know the sometimes freaky, but always attractive rhythms, bass and melodies that can come from the mastermind that is Todd Drootin. This disc definately does not really change anything about that: It just confirms that a mad genius is at work here.

A highly entertaining album of weird freakiness, laidback downtempo and experimental fun.

Il confine tra dub, idm e drum’n bass è estremamente sottile e sfocato in questa micro-opera di debutto di Dustin Craig. Il giovane compositore di Oakland, meglio conosciuto con i moniker Headphone Science ed ElasticLego, infatuato tanto dalla musica concreta quanto dagli esperimenti elettro-radicali di Richard D James e Kid 606, si cimenta in un’accattivante session in cui ogni brano rivendica una propria, scalpitante, autonomia. Con un incipit come We Remain Faded, emozionante coacervo di umori dub scandito da eleganti intromissioni di tastiere, è impossibile non gridare alla rivelazione. La scarnificata jungle di Games, ripulita con minuzia da qualsiasi enfasi ritmica, e l’hip hop sfigurato, ridotto a mero corpo simulacrale, di Larcenous e Life Struggles Constant lasciano trasparire un’indole da “bricoleur” che si esprime al meglio nei grotteschi esperimenti di Air Bubble Material, in cui nervosismo glitch e tappeti ritmici down-tempo si fondono con scaltra naturalezza, e nelle bizzarra nomenclatura sonora di To Dine in Distance, raffinata da gustose sonorità jazz. Con un debutto simile è quasi impossibile non nutrire grandi aspettative per il futuro.