There’s a certain advantage to creating your own audio emitting devices, particularly in the sense that as an artist it affords you the ability to carve and create your own particular brand of sound. Martin Freeman certainly seems aware of this point. As the man behind Repeater Electronics, he builds many an audio mangling device and unruly multi-oscillator unit, for the most part housed neatly inside old cigar boxes. In his latest outing for Output Noise under the Repeater moniker, Freeman seemingly puts these boxes to good use, sometimes evoking more subtle drones, other times steadily bitcrushing tones into the haze. Many textures are explored between Repeater’s two untitled tracks, both improvised experiments in oscillation.
The first piece casually slides into view, establishing itself as a slow burning exercise in drone and stasis. Sinewy tones and oscillations slide in and out of focus, embellishing the track with a sense of evolution, albeit strictly at its own pace. As it rolls along like a slow moving cloud, it becomes clear that this piece is in no hurry to get anywhere, comfortably exploring its own textures and frequencies. Tones bubble away in the background, casually making themselves known before simmering back into the haze they came from, as other warbling pitches jostle for space amongst one another. It somehow never gets ahead of itself, and yet never collapses under its own weight , holding your attention via continuously introducing tones and notes, then dismissing them just a quickly, like a child searching through its toy box.
Just shy of 15 minutes later, the second piece instantly establishes itself as a much neater version of it’s predecessor, clocking in at around 9 and a half minutes, functioning almost exclusively around a singular, haunting melody. A pleasant counterbalance to the first track, Freeman’s focused approach allows a more streamlined approach as opposed to sprawling out across the aural landscape. Gently bitcrushed waves flow back and forth across the melodic centrepiece, in many instances recalling Keith Fullerton-Whitman’s quieter moments, particularly ‘Track4(2waysuperimposed)’s modular synth meditations. It never forgets where it’s going yet spreads out dreamily enough within its own confines. Upon its somewhat abrupt conclusion, i found myself hungry for alot more of it.
The artwork accompanying the disc draws distinct parallels to the music enclosed, featuring what appears to be a hand, with one or two digits in focus and the rest smudged and stretched hazily out of comprehension. If all of Repeater Electronics’ devices can make sounds this beautiful, I’ll be purchasing some quick smart. Short and sweet, blissfully recommended.
Nick Giles
