The Notwist - The Devil, You + Me (City Slang, 2008)
I'm really quite perplexed by the lack of attention afforded this release by the UK music press. This is the first album from The Notwist in nearly six years, and it follows the excellent 'Neon Golden', a record that saw the group make great strides in their musical and stylistic development. Perhaps the lack of column inches in the UK is a sign of just how much the UK market tends to ignore European acts, especially at a time when so much superb music is coming from Europe and Scandinavia.
Given Markus Acher's subsequent collaborations with Doseone in 13 and God and Subtle, it comes as something of a surprise that 'The Devil, You + Me' sounds, at least on first listen, like a more conventional record than its predecessor. The stream-of-consciousness surrealism that characterised those projects is completely absent here, on a graceful and considered album arguably more interested in sound than language.
The greater emphasis on melodic directness might well disappoint more adventurous listeners. However, the group have not entirely abandoned atmosphere for this record and their arrangements remain as fascinating and mesmerising as ever. The interventions of electronics are generally subtle (save for 'Where In This World', which could easily be an offcut from 'Neon Golden') and much of the music comes with delicate shadings and a restrained percussiveness.
The vocals are consistently relaxed and understated but the more accessible melodies and harmonies help imbue the music with warmth. The Notwist sound like a much less robotic band here, even if they are content not to push too many musical boundaries. This is a slow-building collection which, given time, draws the listener into its rather intricate and spellbinding web. Some of the percussion sounds are redolent of the more recent excursions of Einsturzende Neubaten, as they have abandoned abrasive anger in favour of something more emotionally complex. Whilst The Devil is a constant presence here, not just in the album's title, this is not however a nasty or evil sounding record - instead it seems to be hinting at the human agency of the devil, and is such the group's most human record to date.
There's a creeping menace to much of this music (particularly on the superb and sinister 'Hands On Us') that suggests the initial perception of convention might be misplaced. Even the most elemental tracks here ('Boneless' is a good example) are intelligently designed, building and developing, sometimes in a determinedly linear way characteristic of the group's signature style.
It's rare to find a group exercising quite so much care and control. This is subtle and involving music, full of nooks and crannies in which to hide. Of course, there's nothing wrong with having a good tune too, and as the Devil is believed to have the best of them, it seems somewhat appropriate that this such a breezy, light and melodic work.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Universal Language
Nico Muhly - Mothertongue (Bedroom Community, 2008)
At last, versatility and the search for connections between musical forms are becoming laudable qualities in contemporary composers. Nico Muhly is an infuriatingly young protege of minimalists such as Reich, Riley and Glass but might well be better known for his collaborative work with the likes of Bjork, Will Oldham and Antony Hegarty. 'Mothertongue' is the second recorded work in his own name, and one of the most effective examples of modern composition melding electronic and acoustic elements.
The unifying factor between these stylistically diverse pieces is the sound of the human voice and its power as a tool of communication. The title suite abandons conventional language entirely, instead manipulating samples of voices, layering them in rich textures and pitting them against a resonant combination of strings, piano and deep electronic bass notes. It's a compelling work, harking back to Gyorgy Ligeti's nonsense vocal works, albeit in a more contemplative and less theatrical way. There's a meditative, almost spiritual quality to this combination of languid music and fluttering, busy vocal lines.
It's likely that there will still be some purists who resent the use of electronic recording techniques to manipulate the human voice - but why shouldn't new composers at least try to offer something new? It's entirely reasonable that contemporary music should strive to juxtapose unusual instruments, and also make use of modern sounds and effects. There's always the danger of gimmickry, but Muhly's touch is sensitive and assured, and he has used his studio tools as an aid to the composing process, adding to the overall effect. My only reservation is that the bulk of the rhythmic invention in these pieces comes from the voices and the electronics, and the instrumentation is too frequently left to a textural or accompanying role.
The rest of the album is devoted to an audacious deconstruction of folk music, celebrating the rich and powerful language of ballads and folk song. Muhly's much praised label mate Sam Amidon proves surprisingly adept in this context, delivering a murder ballad with admirable candour and expression. There's an appropriate level of detachment in Muhly's music too - such that the folk songs seem almost amoral, and slightly chilling as a result.
Language and cultural theory are clearly of paramount importance to Muhly. He is every bit as capable and nuanced a writer as he is a composer, as his articles for The Guardian and New York Times demonstrate. He also writes a stimulating and provocative blog. With his impressive melding of chamber music, popular folk and modern electronica, he may be opening the doors for a new generation of innovative composers, open-minded to the many possibilities music still has to offer.
At last, versatility and the search for connections between musical forms are becoming laudable qualities in contemporary composers. Nico Muhly is an infuriatingly young protege of minimalists such as Reich, Riley and Glass but might well be better known for his collaborative work with the likes of Bjork, Will Oldham and Antony Hegarty. 'Mothertongue' is the second recorded work in his own name, and one of the most effective examples of modern composition melding electronic and acoustic elements.
The unifying factor between these stylistically diverse pieces is the sound of the human voice and its power as a tool of communication. The title suite abandons conventional language entirely, instead manipulating samples of voices, layering them in rich textures and pitting them against a resonant combination of strings, piano and deep electronic bass notes. It's a compelling work, harking back to Gyorgy Ligeti's nonsense vocal works, albeit in a more contemplative and less theatrical way. There's a meditative, almost spiritual quality to this combination of languid music and fluttering, busy vocal lines.
It's likely that there will still be some purists who resent the use of electronic recording techniques to manipulate the human voice - but why shouldn't new composers at least try to offer something new? It's entirely reasonable that contemporary music should strive to juxtapose unusual instruments, and also make use of modern sounds and effects. There's always the danger of gimmickry, but Muhly's touch is sensitive and assured, and he has used his studio tools as an aid to the composing process, adding to the overall effect. My only reservation is that the bulk of the rhythmic invention in these pieces comes from the voices and the electronics, and the instrumentation is too frequently left to a textural or accompanying role.
The rest of the album is devoted to an audacious deconstruction of folk music, celebrating the rich and powerful language of ballads and folk song. Muhly's much praised label mate Sam Amidon proves surprisingly adept in this context, delivering a murder ballad with admirable candour and expression. There's an appropriate level of detachment in Muhly's music too - such that the folk songs seem almost amoral, and slightly chilling as a result.
Language and cultural theory are clearly of paramount importance to Muhly. He is every bit as capable and nuanced a writer as he is a composer, as his articles for The Guardian and New York Times demonstrate. He also writes a stimulating and provocative blog. With his impressive melding of chamber music, popular folk and modern electronica, he may be opening the doors for a new generation of innovative composers, open-minded to the many possibilities music still has to offer.
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