Every now and then someone comes along who makes you appreciate the bedroom labours; appreciate hours toiling away at some strange messed up piece of sonic tapestry that barely makes sense to anyone who hasn’t constructed it. Portland native Jesse Munro Johnson is one such individual. Working with loops, trumpets, drones, synths, all manner of found sounds and digital refuse, he makes these incredible compositions, which seem ad hoc, yet on closer inspection are revealed to be quite delicately put together. They pay heed to beats, to avant electronica, to sound art, particularly in terms of the palette, yet feel like so much more. Form is putty in his hand, one moment you’re thinking Boards of Canada, the next you’re wondering if perhaps Miles got stuck in a post industrial landscape. Yet the kicker is the xylophone, I’ve always worked on the philosophy that no matter how dense and desperate the piece it can always be solved by xylophone. It’s clear that Johnson agrees. It’s not that his pieces need saving, it’s just that he uses the xylophone in such inappropriate ways. It’s his debut album, which suggests that this but the beginning.
Bob Baker Fish
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