It begins with the cry of a rooster and then an oriental sounding gong and before anyone can say ‘Mice Parade’, it’s descended into a dense vaguely Eastern repetitive piano flurry, which then somehow with the assistance of accordion, bass guitar and drums has transplanted its mood to provincial France. Which almost makes sense given that its creator Jeremy Barnes recorded part of the album in Saumur France. Much of A Hawk and a Hacksaw is held together by repetitive, frantic and almost comical piano work that wouldn’t be out of place in silent films. The presence of the accordion only serves to camp up the rustic rural flavour of the work, ensuring that A Hawk and a Hacksaw arrives somewhere between Tortoise and the frantic energy of Gypsy music. For the Leaf label, home to Susumu Yokota and Murcof it’s a peculiar and quite unexpected step, though there’s undoubtedly something unique and carefully crafted about Barnes’ work which no doubt attracted them to it. There are inspired and senseless drunken fireside stomps that end in crazed avant-garde soundscapes, twisted sound art piece and then these beautiful baroque piano runs. Everything seems thrown in together and its ingredients really don’t make sense, though it’s saved by the fact that A Hawk and a Hacksaw’s world is so inspiring, confusing and wonderful that concepts like sense no longer matter.
Bob Baker Fish
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