At first blush, the computer-bleated guitar drones of Christian Fennesz mirror, in a dreamy manner, the rise and fall of Sakamoto’s rolling piano chords and gentle note-runs. Quite apart from the pairs first effort, which seemed all but trapped in Fennesz’ serrated nest, Cendre initially seems to bear out Sakamoto’s fluid, sweeping signature and, as such, may perhaps be likened to a warped Satie pastiche. Successive sojourns through the album makes apparent that more of a spiderweb logic is at play here, though. The contours and emotional birthmarks of ‘Mono’ slowly morph. When a piece consists of wispy electronic sounds and the smooth glide of Sakamoto’s piano and an internal harmony is achieved, the piece is turned away from its truth in a subtle manner, either by Fennesz’ droning power-chords hanging suspended in a curious aura or by acts of challenge and mimicry, all of which serve to lend the work a ritualistic quality. As an extension, the work is undoubtedly repetitive, but it’s one which is mostly absorbing rather than flustering in its palpable presence.
For all their tiny, refracted events, for all of their needling stutters, cascading loop constructions and moments of harmonious ascendance, pieces dwell in a hinterworld, without an origin or end, and are simply fascinated with their own muted melodrama, with the reversal of their signs and the ongoing trials involved in each player trying to outbid the other. ‘Haru’ presents this in the most obvious, and perhaps also most affecting manner, pinned down as it is by weighty piano chords, tracing a contemplative, slightly forlorn melody, and shaded by resonant echoing tones and distant, searching buzzsaw fuzz. Although fashioned by way of the impersonal medium known as e-mail (or perhaps because of it), Cendre is a multifaceted work whose tremulous breaths prove intoxicating stuff.
Max Schaefer
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