Rob Henke shepherds the travels of one Monolake - a guise under which much of the most fruitful aquatic techno has been harvested these some past few years. Crafted by pitch-shifting short pulses of filtered noise into a network of granular delays, Signal to Noise, however, is a harmonically dense, metallic dronework that, while mimicking the astringent timbres and whirring behavior of an oncoming monsoon, bears the blemishes of woe, imagination and awe that one often confronts before blustery weather.
Signal To Noise opens at the eye of the storm; an airy hum is placed alongside quivering shafts of electronics that at once resemble naked leaves shivering in the arms of brisk billowing winds. From this moment, the previously assiduous and ambient drone feeds upon the bustling debree of digital clicks, building in its weight and mass as it fills the aural space like a horde of chanting monks. Such moments demonstrate a fanatically careful control of each element within the acoustic space, flexible but focused playing, a harmonization between sound, structure and aura. In its deft patience at weaving extended passages awash of iridescent textures with a delicate, unobtrusive gauze of purring digitalia, Signal To Noise bears a certain resemblance to last years fine ode to winter in Rosy Parlane's Iris.
Wavering atop fifty-minutes, motifs do often repeat in the progression of each of the three tracks, but each piece does appear to branch out from the mimicking of storms found at the onset. Indeed, the final composition, particularly near the end, is pockmarked by dissonant pitches of static splinters that soar in rolling surges and crisp elongated tones that coalesce into shrill shards, running the length of each other like knives being sharpened. Though a dash more variety would have endowed this effort with a longer life-span, it nevertheless reaches a ripe maturity and, what's more, exists as a cordial companion for snow-scalloped afternoons, bookmarked by ennui.
Max Schaefer |
