There’s a pulsing organic throb that echoes throughout Palestine, a steady droning heartbeat or skeleton perhaps, over which the remainder of the sounds drape themselves, bleeding in and out. Initial listens suggests a low-key semi improvised meandering effort, yet that’s not fair. This is music that is operating on a different level, particularly structurally. It can be sparse, with open spaces, utilising repetition and an almost collage like nature, yet thereÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s also at some point in listening a light bulb moment, where the looseness suddenly makes sense, where all the ingredients pare down and devolve, and you understand how carefully composed this music is.
The thing is that the washes of ill defined sonic detritus form as important structural role as more conventional instruments. It’s a beautiful ambient work, a soundscape in the purest sense, the percussion sounds like someone shuffling a deck of cards, or hitting a wooden table, then there’s these strange organic electronic hums and rattles, backward masking. The sounds eke and flow, increase in volume, waft in and out, like you’re driving past in a car, or it’s the sound of a city drifting through an open window. This is not your normal music, and perhaps given the title and techniques the notion that the album is dedicated to the late Bryn Jones, or Muslimgauze may not come as much surprise.
ItÃ¢â‚¬â„¢s the work of the Arizona based duo of Ryan Keane and R.A Sanchez, and this is their third album. TheyÃ¢â‚¬â„¢ve roped in a multitude of guests, including folks from their own Lost Tribe Sounds label, including the likes of William Ryan Fritch (Vieo Abiungo) and the result album is brimming with cello, marimba, mandolin, flute, banjo, 12 string, piano, even the odd taste of vocals. It’s also the final release from fine English label Moteer and without doubt a challenging yet beautiful swansong for an innovative label that will be sorely missed.
Then there’s the limited edition remix disc which boasts mixes from Australian artists Part Timer and Children of the Wave alongside the likes Vieo Abiungo, Remote Viewer and Scissors and Cellotape amongst others. The mixes are of course disparate, yet elements of this strange and gentle source material manage to bleed their way through. And this is a good thing.
Bob Baker Fish