Behind the enigmatic title lies a work characterised by a pathology of perception, a disjunctive precariousness born of the very availability of so many motifs. Compositions work with a palette that consists of micro-samples of frenetic sax and snake-charming flute lines from Eric Dolphy, bucolic tinkling of electronics, and woozy, wobbling bass and drum patterns that brim with a sly storytelling style.
The samples drawn from Dolphy’ body of work are recognisable, yet Connor Bell’ processing and tape-based delay system reorganises and otherwise bathes them in reverb and echo. As these interventions grow more radical, the delay opens into more dizzying and psychedelic feedback patterns, diving the pieces into two distinct time frames, which spread apart and wash back into one another to startling effect. From here on, pieces are marked by a casual uneasiness, as stammering and gasping bass-clarinet lines get entangled in the bulbous surge of electronic detritus structured only by the undertow of a dirge-like rhythm.
A real virtuosity is shown in the playing and management of sounds, what with the record shifting easily from the aforementioned disorienting passages to those of a plangent minor key style, which shows affinities for ’60s minimalism. The pervasiveness of this off-centre approach proves challenging, and is a far cry from the mellow attractiveness of Connor’ previous ambient-electronic efforts, but the pieces are altogether rich and strange – managing a tangible freshness of spirit even in their most turbid and unremitting moments.
Max Schaefer
