A cluster of solo guitar compositions cobbled together one day within a church in Berlin, Monologue fully assumes its particularity so as to better evoke broader conceptions. In the absence of an audience and an impromptu manner of recording, the work may be judged solipsistic, yet by firmly embracing the limited, specific nature of his situation, Berlin-based composer – and one half of electronica project, I’m Not A Gun – Nishimoto finds himself well informed and articulate in the use of these styles as effective signs in the portrayal of more general human sentiments. Hence, the albums intimate, though indistinct sense of emotion. Songs emanate from distinct origins – a sprightly flamenco flourish on ‘Rider’, the cascading tremolo on ‘Interweave’ – yet their residue hangs suspended in the ether, is rendered mobile and diffuse and seems invested with something well beyond itself.
There is a vivacity and economy to Nishimoto’ playing, his able and careful hands summon glimmering strands, rustic melodies and graveyard fogs into the room with seemingly little effort. Subtle allusions are cast to many styles – among them, jazz, minimalism – and while Nishimoto conveys each in an expressive, erudite manner, there is a ponderous energy about the playing on a whole which serves to carry them just out of their respective orbits. This element also renders the compositions particularly susceptible to meandering passages, and a few do indeed slip into Nishimoto’ otherwise supple and plaintively distant compositions. This inconsistency bears out the fact that, though in some sense expressive, the album is not a surface riddled with a tremulous adoration, nor with a bristling energy, but one skillfully and strategically illuminated by a cold intermittent light. The continually sudden appearance and immanent disappearance of a melody or motif can fascinate and reflect much, but for all that, the work falls well short in its grasp of the deeper, perhaps intractable pangs of experience.
Max Schaefer
