The first husk of Territorial Objects is its incomplete presence, a vague diaspora of field recordings that, owing to their fleeting and irregular nature, resonate a multi-colored space of non-totalizable fragments and encourage the listener to both engage and, to some extent, complete the place with their own imaginings. The second has to do with the delirium of these very field recordings and their relative organization around certain acts of repetition and the imaginary associations that are their result.
The ensuing pieces toe a certain ritualistic line, which is much in keeping with Ruchalski’s basic penchants, but on this occasion it is enhanced by overlaid and interruptive rhythmic motifs, and gently interjected tolling string and bell vibrations. This transgression of Ruchalski’s meditative boundaries generally appears justified, even if, at the same time, it is occasionally evident that he is out of his element.
Thoughtful guitar or piano chords are abruptly and effectively swapped for percussion struck with religious violence; its blind insistency soon compressing the energy of the pieces, affording them a deleterious aspect that, though in check, sets the whole body of the piece a quiver. From these more extreme works, Ruchalski then realizes this grinding repetition in the slow motion bludgeoning of a number of other tracks. Breaking the proceedings up further, the rippling open stringed runs and precise fluttery, frettings of the odd piece brings back shades of the rural and the ordinary. It is this overflowing and the subsequent need to recoil, executed with insensate passion, that sets this album well in motion.
Max Schaefer
