One of the great things about writing for Cyclic Defrost is the exposure to music that just wouldn’t get a look-in, with the congested world that is my listening habits, any other way. Vernon & Burns were one such musical proposition, prior to getting intimately acquainted with their Light at the End of the Dial release from last year. Dark and resolutely dada, with a inscrutable British-ness about their sound collages, the duo are joined on Lost Lake by Luke Fowler and John W. Fail from Lied Music. Following on from 2006’s amusingly titled Lied Music Vs Boy Band Tax Returns,the duos reunite for a further round of concrete-based antics.
There’s a sinister whimsy, full of squeaky, overdriven instruments and radio static emerging from the Lost Lake. It’s as if the entire INA-GRM catalogue has been submerged in a neglected, overgrown wetland and allowed to infuse with the recorded works of Nurse With Wound and Stock, Hausen & Walkman. The cover-art for this limited vinyl release is suitably warped, a comfy living room, complete with lace curtains and needlework cushions, yet the reclining inhabitant has been replaced by a montage of oil tanks, circles and a refinery infrastructure, whilst retaining the silhouette. While this is not a startling technique in itself (check the Not Not Fun label or Sun Araw releases for a similar aesthetic), it’s executed in a manner that compliments the sounds contained within admirably.
There’s a spooked miasma smelling of half –remembered 78s, 101 Strings records (and the kitchen sink) on “Death knell for short-handed typists”. “Perpendicular to Love” is a three-minute naive ode to love, delivered in a slightly threatening, yet whimsical fashion. What does “Perpendicular to Love” mean? Separate from, but relating to love, or completely divorced from such intricacies of the heart? Side B, entitled “Chamber Game of the Skies” starts off with “Digging Runner of the Den” a confused and baffling journey through electroacoustic improvisation. Imagine Keiji Heino jamming with a bunch of Tibetan monks with access to an expansive array of analogue studio equipment. “Black Mint’s” blunted slo-mo tabla rhythms and soaring cello switches half-way through into something altogether more lopsided, as vocal snippets, clattering percussion and a malfunctioning string section vie to be first across the line.
Lost Lake is a haunted juxtaposition of faux-jazz and Delia Derbyshire meets AMM electronic bafflement. Vernon & Burns and Lied Music’s musique concrete approach could even be an appropriate accompaniment to your next dinner party, just make sure you spike the aperitifs with something stronger than usual.
Oliver Laing
