I've taken Alex Copeland up on his offer to contribute FAX (and other) reviews. Thank Alex for lightening my load and touching upon a renowned label which I've been mysteriously lax about covering. Alex is e-mailable at Auraphage@aol.com. Tetsu Inoue: Psycho Acoustic   (Tzadik - 1998) Professing to be bored and disinterested with the conventions of electronic music, particularly those of a traditionally 'ambient' nature, Tetsu Inoue seems to have made good on his philosophy. Psycho Acoustic, released by Tzadik in 1998, is an electrifying portrait of a creative mind actualizing change. Going further than simply abjuring cliches and conventions, Inoue forcibly rockets himself away from them in almost every possible way and crafts a detailed masterwork in the process. Technically and philosophically, Psycho Acoustic is ostensibly as far away from Inoue's past work as possible. Whereas his established classics on the FAX label were characteristically slow-moving, melodic 'ambient' pieces, long-form and sometimes epic in length, and constructed entirely with analog electronics, the artworks that comprise Psycho Acoustic are high-speed and frenetic masses of meticulous brevity. Utterly in contrast to Inoue's "body music" of the recent past, the nine tracks presented here are entities of infinitesimal DSP intricacy and are accordingly polished. Reportedly thousands of hours went into the creation of these pieces, several of which fall merely near the 3-minute mark. This fact is even more impressive when considering Inoue used to record entire albums in the space of one day. The only attribute this new art of Inoue shares with his old work is the profound way in which his music evolves so smoothly, so naturally, so organically. The listener's utter immersion and surrender elicited by his older work remains, at its core, unchanged. Within this new context of ultra-fast composition, however, the naturalistic sense of progression is compressed and brought to the fore. Jarring and capricious though this album may be, not one element ever seems out of place. Melody, harmony, and rhythm were at one time familiar tools of Inoue. Psycho Acoustic almost wantonly mocks all three. The majority of sounds to be found here are entirely nonmelodic, and those that are melodic stand out all the more colorfully for it. Harmony is reduced to sporadic clusterings and disjointed fields of relation. Rhythm is for the most part completely disregarded, and is in its few appearances perverted and abased. The only track to prominently feature rhythm is the album's finale, which features another Japanese musician, Ikue Mori. (Here, a simple galloping beat provides a flat projection upon which countless microscopic blips, cracks, waves, whistles, scratches, ripples, and sprays liberally cavort.) All of this is not to say that Psycho Acoustic is an unstructured mess. Quite to the contrary, this is a work full of strong points. Inoue displays a master's touch for sound design, texture, and logical, constructive sound-grouping. Every element of this challenging album is laboriously conceived and put in place. Far from his former gilded euphorics, there is nary a moment to be found here where the listening space is not tingling, tearing, waving, rippling, mutating, pulsing, fracturing or crumpling. A great sense of unthreatening tension permeates all of it, and the unpredictability is wonderful. Granted, some listeners will inevitably be put off by Inoue's unfettered, almost Dadaist performance here. It's an undeniably idiomatic work, but in my view one that reflects the raw moment of inspiration and the evolution of an intense musical mind. Expectations are shattered in the confrontational mischief of Psycho Acoustic, and in the resulting disorientation, we the audience enjoy the fruits of an artist's metamorphosis. Jochem Paap: Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 II   (FAX Sublabel - 1998) Jochem Paap's sequel to his previous "Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 I" continues the theme of simplistic, intimate sound patterns, but pushes the envelope of minimalism farther than before. Consisting of only three tracks, "Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 II" represents the depth of the most stark and spare of musical concepts. Ranging from warm to cold, personal to alienating, these patient pieces embrace the listener with a profound stillness and offer up an experience of gentle extremes. The disc opens with the 6-minute "Dx-Snth". This short piece of euphony essentially epitomizes the spirit of melodic ambient music. Consisting of a classic three-chord sequence, the piece slowly grows into a storm of blissful harmony as ever more strains of heart-touching melodics evolve into a heavenly chorus. "Dx-Snth" seems to wring out all the emotion three chords are capable of holding, and it's somewhat breathtaking in its raw simplicity and concision. The second and longest piece, "Mrg-Rvx", is a different beast entirely. Originating (ostensibly) from only TWO notes, alternating and continuous strings of soundspots trail away into nothingness. Each note, as it is plucked from the dark and still fabric of the piece, ascends in rhythmic octaves like smoke curling up from flames. As the timings of these pluckings differ, the resulting soundstrings create varying tone-clusters. This approach is exceedingly sparse, but the organic variations, combined with a continuous reverberation-chamber effect and periods of insistent chorus-like swelling, create a captivating experience. As "Mrg-Rvx" nears its end, the pace is broken and slowed, eventually to a plodding halt. Here the decay of the sounds is the foremost factor: the growing absence of new sounds brings the remnants of those past into greater focus. Some listeners might find the duration (at 28 minutes) and execution of this piece agonizingly extended, but I find it to be quite suitable. The marching repetition creates a simultaneous feeling of isolation and lulling comfort. "Jchm-2ngn" is the third and final track. It recalls most notably the works of "Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 I" and is a wonderful piece of understatement. Another very simple setup of repeating tones cycles at differing speeds, creating light and dreamy clusters of harmony. This device is soon joined by a third repeating note and an oscillating veil of bass that lightly laps at the background. This structure is simply left as is for the next 15 minutes. Only a softly mournful melody, gusting and twisting in the distance, embellishes it further. The cottony-low frequency of bass is all that is left at the end, and it quietly departs to close this somewhat dirgeful finale. The way "Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 II" runs the borderline of overminimalism, childish emotion, and sadness is quite striking. I find the very simplicity of the work almost daring, and it seems to be wrought with a deep sense of confidence and self-assurance on the part of Jochem Paap. Solemn, intimate, and touchingly unpretentious, this is minimalism that really speaks to the heart. Alex's Reviews were posted here on April 30, 2000.

AmbiEntrance © 2001-97 by David J Opdyke (except CD cover art, rights retained by original owners).