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andarctica: longview anthéne: weightless Brad Deschamps wrote the material for his latest anthéne collection before the birth of his baby daughter, the idea being that weightless would be “an album for her to sleep to.” To be honest, pretty much any of the anthéne releases in his discography would meet that criterion, given the degree to which much of his output shares certain understated, ethereal qualities—which isn't to suggest we doubt he had that concept in mind when this particular set was being created. Released in CD and digital formats on Ian Hawgood's Home Normal rather than Deschamps' own Polar Seas imprint, weightless was produced by the Torontonian using guitar, synthesizer, field recordings, and laptop and fits comfortably into a meditative minimal ambient genre custom-tailored to induce becalmed reflection. Swathed in the atmospheric details of field recordings, the eight concise slow-burners (only two push past five minutes) are lustrous, delicately textured sound paintings. Softly murmuring, each makes its case humbly, processed guitar shadings often the center around which other grainy details constellate. More than anything else, it's Deschamps' guitar that gives the material individuating character; without succumbing to the cliches of conventional guitar practice, he solos in these pieces, but the guitar's used in this context as a fragile, questioning presence (see “wind catcher” as a particularly lovely example). Interestingly, one of the tracks is titled “silver screen,” a term typically applied to early cinema as opposed to the blockbuster overkill we know today. Consistent with that, Deschamps' material exudes a wistful quality that suggests longing for a sadly long-past and out-of-reach era. And how fitting it is that he selected the album title he did: these artful constructions evidence a lightness of touch that makes listening to them an all the more satisfying experience. You definitely get your money's worth from Brian Barth's hour-long andarctica set, made available from Polar Seas in cassette (the forty copies now sold out) and digital formats. Not unusual for an ambient release, little background info accompanies longview beyond clarifying that its six tracks were recorded in Amsterdam during fall of 2018 and “grew out of field recordings, tape loops, and moments of quiet focus.” It's also immersive stuff, never more so than the three pieces that extend past ten minutes, the longest of them seventeen. It doesn't take long for longview to catch the ear, which happens the moment strings swoop upwardly to introduce the fifteen minutes of oceanic shimmer and undulation that is “meant.” With Barth adopting a style reminiscent of Wolfgang Voigt's Gas, the track's washes loop over and over, growing ever more entrancing as they do so and at times sounding a little bit like the output of an advanced mellotron. Occasionally a subtle change in the design occurs to render the presentation less static, but for the most part it deviates little from its general character. In other tracks, the sound design is less grandiose, Barth opting in these instances for something minimal and stripped-down but haunting nonetheless. “wash” and “borealis” might be pitched at quieter levels, for example, but the combination of their softly murmuring tones and steely electrical reverberations makes for disarmingly beautiful and unexpectedly moving results. Even more understated is the seventeen-minute “as,” a serene meditation whose softly glowing ripples feel like the aural equivalent of consciousness slowly awakening. Throughout longview, Barth demonstrates an impressively assured hand in the way he allows these settings to develop as patiently as they do; he also shows himself to be an expert at pacing and determining when to adjust the arc of a given piece's development. It's one thing to be able to assemble elements into an arresting sound design; it's another to know how to optimize the impact of their unfolding through time, which he does on this release repeatedly.May 2019 |