All Melody - Nils Frahm

Track list:

1. The Whole Universe Wants to Be Touched
2. Sunson
3. A Place
4. My Friend the Forest
5. Human Range
6. Forever Changeless
7. All Melody
8. #2
9. Momentum
10. Fundamental Values
11. Kaleidoscope
12. Harm Hymn

Running time: 73 minutes
Released: 2018

So another insert here, as I decided I did want to follow up on investigating Nils Frahm after the collaboration with Ólafur Arnalds. The first disc sold me, even though I was disappointed by the second.

The first, short, intro tune starts with ~10 seconds of silence. In a sub-2 minute track that's a significant chunk of time. I can see how and why silence might be used in structuring pieces, but I do wonder about tacking it on to the start or end of the track. In a live performance it might set tone and expectation, but on record? Not so sure.

This is a long disc and I have got up early on a Sunday to make time for it. I failed to find the right energy to do it last night (wash out all round, alas) and am trying to set that right. Soon I have to go off to do a huge shop (for two separate households) and then play dutiful son for a while. Yesterday was cleaning mold from windows that hadn't seen a cleanse in too long. Life's full of fun, eh?

It takes a little while to kick in, but Sunson has the pulsing staccato electronics that endeared the first disc of the Frahm/Arnalds collaboration to me. These kind of rhythms and patterns appeal to me a lot, I wonder why? A constant reference point, perhaps, or a subconscious connection to the heartbeat? I don't think "pulse" is a bad term for it at all. Over the top of this there are wandering pipes. I am reminded a little of Vangelis of all people. There is a little bit of a throwback vibe here. Then, about two thirds of the way through the track just stops. This is better use of silence, a reset, reformulate. The theme that comes back after the break is immediately relevant to what went before but framed very differently, so the quick enforced quiet between the two presentations allows for that relationship without the change being jarring or lost.

I find this hard to place. There's more going on in the pieces than perhaps I expected there would be so it's less immediately relaxing than I anticipated. Finding the words to describe where it would sit is tough. 

Vangelis probably is my best touchstone or reference point, despite this being less synth heavy, because of the variety. There are similarities in the structuring of the tracks and themes moreso than the actual sounds. Even the use of space, such as in the nice keyboard melody on My Friend the Forest, has echoes of the Greek. Actually here I feel there are actual melodic reflections of Vangelis tracks too, albeit with a more stripped down sound. The next track then veers off in a different direction, with taught trumpets that remind me of Scandinavian jazz, but with a slow tempo that, in combination, is really quite disturbing and hard to listen to.

By contrast, when Frahm brings out the keyboard, he has a nice, light touch, surprisingly so.

Is the title meant to be ironic? All Melody starts with anything but. Sure, a tune emerges from the electronics as it moves forward but it is not immediately melodic. My point of reference here dives to Ben Prunty's soundtrack for sci-fi roguelike FTL, a frustrating little game scored perfectly to enhance its tension.  Here the track builds a similar sense of edginess, the sound rounds out over time and the crescendo this involves is effective at subtly ratcheting up that dial further too. The track evolves as it goes, whilst always maintaining that tense aspect. 

You know, I totally missed a change of track there. The electronic rhythm seemed to continue right through with no break, and when you're talking two back-to-back 9 minute tunes...I am liking this mid section of the album though. Pulse, tempo, and tension. Ambient or electronica can be waffly and vague, purposeless. These three elements give it form and structure, give something to get your teeth into, something to lose yourself in, rather than simply losing track of the tune. 

I am losing track of this though... my mind has checked out, seeking refuge in nothingness as an antidote to the day ahead. I look forward to the day when I don't feel put upon, but I don't know if my mind will ever let me get there. We're almost through the album now, Kaleidoscope and its messy approximation of wind chimes and devotional singing is a but jarring. The low vocals on their own are nicely curated but the sounds layered over them are less appealing. It seemed as though the track got better in the latter stages of its 8 minute timeframe but to be honest I think I blocked out the bits that were less immediately accessible to me and concentrated on the part that I enjoyed

Overall this has been a strange listen for a number of reasons. The music itself is certainly one, but the timing (starting before 9am on a Sunday) is probably the key one, along with cutting away between tracks to get things done. It's not ideal, but then neither is finding a 73 minute block to dedicate when life continues on. I need my space and time, but for my own wellbeing I need to find a way to continue things like this, too... if I am not, it means my energy levels are down and I'm probably in a rut. 

The final track ends with silence, more than 10 seconds worth, but still a noticeable mirror to how it began. Overall I think there are some wonderful moments in this disc but it struggles to maintain the peak quality throughout.

Collaborative Works, Disc 2 - Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm

Track list:

1. 20:17
2. 21:05
3. 23:17
4. 23:52
5. 00:26
6. 01:41
7. 03:06
8. Untitled

Running time: 40 minutes
Released: 2015

After the first disc of this collection was largely a hit, what does round two have to offer?

If the track titles for the first half of this set were odd, these are just as inscrutable. I can only assume that the titles are timestamps as the liner notes suggest these tunes were put together in a single sitting. 

The soft piano that opens us up is clear, unadorned by any electronics this time around, its melody is sweet and simple, but not really a midday kind of sound. Then, in truth, it rather meanders to a conclusion, and a very unclear track changeover. Thus far it lacks the urgency and demanding features of the companion disc. For all the beauty in the notes there is something missing here. Vibrancy, points of difference. In another mood, where I was looking for laid back light melody, I think I would value this highly, but right now - this listen being a way of kickstarting my day, far later than it should have been - it falls a little flat.

Isn't it funny how our sense of self can completely realign how we view things? It's not just appreciation of music that depends wildly on mood, I've noticed it with books too of late. One evening I read a passage and thought it was dross, that I'd jack the book in there and then. I went back to it the next night and ended up with a more charitable view. The last time I picked up that book, a couple of days ago now, I ended up back in the first camp. Now, clearly that suggests it isn't a great read, but it is also interesting the degree to which my impressions of it shifted. I think I might be done with it now but... I kinda feel like I have to give it one more chance?

Why the digression? Because thinking about that is to think, too, about this project. When I started I was itchy on the trigger finger, cutting quite a lot. I have dialed back on that some of late (I didn't excise B1 from disc 1 for example). Does that mean another chance to appreciate things, or does it mean more dross in the mix? Probably both, to different degrees.

Meanwhile the lonely piano has been joined by some other sounds. The aural tapestry is better for it, but I still don't feel that this disc is living up to yesterday's standards. It was the whirs and clicks, the obfuscation of the melodies and tunes, those subtle electronic highlights that Arnalds made a name with that made those first pieces sing. Here they are either absent or applied with more force than is required. As we approach midnight (assuming timestamps) things are darker, edgier, but rather than a coherent aesthetic evoking in me memories or thoughts of references to other mediums, 23:52 ends up presenting me with a wall of wails, not song. It's not bad but it's not what I had hoped for on the basis of yesterday evening.

Ah, now. Into the new day and there we have it. Those staccato statics, and a pulsing sound to the main instrumentation. It's more sparse than anything preceding it on this disc, but also more vital, more immediate - all because of some sonic disruption that provides a constant nagging rhythm. It reminds me a bit of Boards of Canada's Tomorrow's Harvest, which is a good thing. There is still a more urgent edge to the following piece too, though it seems to be a solo xylaphone or similar, the pace is kept up. 

Until it morphs into a recording of people moving around the studio anyway, then it mellows out and loses the urgency. Sigh.

It recovers a little in the end, through presentation of a nice central theme, but my disappointment with the piece as a whole stands, and at the moment that disappointment reflects my overall feeling on this album. As the last titled track begins, another nice key-led tune, I wonder how much today's disappointment was setup by last night's enjoyment. This is nice, but doesn't have the same wow factor, doesn't draw me in and demand my attention. It's like there's no real sell here, just a meander through some notes and sounds for the sake of it. Some of those notes and sounds are gorgeous, some less so, but on its own that isn't enough somehow. They spoiled me before.

Collaborative Works, Disc 1 - Ólafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm

Track list:

1. Four
2. Three
3. Wide Open
4. W
5. M
6. A1
7. A2
8. B1
9. Life Story
10. Love And Glory

Running time: 61 minutes
Released: 2015

OK, so another impulse purchase makes its way in before I can close out the Wedding Present box set of Peel. This time it is a collaboration between Ólafur Arnalds, of whom I am a fan, and Nils Frahm, who I don't know from Adam, but might find myself interested in after this...

These tracks are named... oddly. For the most part they say absolutely nothing about what they might contain. I find the opening notes of Four to be almost brilliantly enticing. I like the tune they play but the buzzing electro edge to them is annoying in the same way a wasp or fly in the room can be. When the tune dies out and we are left with just chimes if feels empty, unfulfilling. 

Fulfillment is something I am craving right now. April was a difficult month in a number of ways and whilst I am starting May on holiday (well, not working this week; I'm at home) I am yet to get back to a baseline where I feel truly myself, or truly human. A combination of work stress and family matters, and a growing dissatisfaction with my solitary life. I am hoping that somewhere in these swirling sounds there might be some gold dust, the touchstone to reignite my velocity on this project (I'd like to get a listen in every day between now and when I go back to work on the 8th, but...). 

Three is also very mellow and feels more complete somehow, whilst Wide Open has punching static, needle scratches, giving a staccato, radio-signal loss effect. I think this is really effective. It sounds like the tune behind these breaks would work as a fluid number but the ticks shake it up, making it sound more dense with notes than it actually is. I feel like the closest thing to this I've heard before is Jon Hopkins, not Arnalds' solo work. In places it hints at a much deeper web of sounds, but they are all inaccessible, held back behind the barrier built by the static. It could be massively frustrating and a let down, but it ends up being highly satisfying. 

W sounds like videogame music... rising tension, peaks and troughs, right out of cyberpunk. I don't mean that in a pejorative sense at all, by the by. Even listening on a sunny spring evening this piece is very effective at generating an oppressive atmosphere of dark intrigue. There isn't really that much going on in the track, and yet it is gripping for most of its length. By the end the trick has grown old, and the relaxing tension leaves me cold. 

It seems that this double-disc collection was originally 4 releases, three of which make up the one album I am listening to tonight. There has definitely been a shift in tone from the laid back sounds of that first trio of tunes to this next couple, all edgy. There is a nice rhythm to this though, more staccato, pulsing, evoking sci-fi and space. 

On the surface level this is quite a bleak sound but beneath the distant beeps and clicks and whirs there is real heart, and I find myself tapping out rhythms that aren't necessarily actually there as it plays. These two composers have created a space that invites you to hear things in it. Whether claustrophobic or wide open in tone their sounds push you to imagine others, faint echoes in their chambers, tapping time. These pieces work best when they are busy, the slower, sparser moments feel empty, if only by comparison to the main thrust of the work. 

As much as I am rather enjoying this, it is awfully samey in places, and when they hit on a theme or loop that doesn't jive with me the charm falls away fast.

I see that at the start of the 13 minute long epic, B1. A low warbling sound with a repeating pattern of odd sounds that I cannot put into words. It leaves me very cold and there is not enough variation in the first 3 minutes of the track to make the discomfiture abate. The track does evolve a bit over its run, but it never really breaks from the initial mould and I find it by far the weakest moment to date. There is just too much emphasis on repetition and those odd pattern-notes. I would argue the main meat of the track is the background, where the change really happens, but it is locked away behind these unpleasant blotchy sounds which simply make the piece too unapproachable for me. And then it ends in the most abrupt fashion... just odd.

Hopefully the last two numbers return to form... early signs are good, as Life Story is a nice piano melody that, whilst very different in tone from the early tracks does have the same base engagement, the underlying warmth of the sound, framed in a way as to draw you into the web. The rustling static that serves as percussion is so soft in places as to be almost imperceptible, but I guarantee you would miss it if it wasn't there... it adds a fuzz, a glow, to the sounds of the keys which otherwise might be too stark and cold.

With all that said, there is still a loneliness to the track, and it leaves me with a little lump in my throat as it closes and we tick over into Love and Glory, which has a similar structure. This piece is more hopeful, lighter. Uncertain but expected happiness, this feels much more a celebration, as befits its title.

Overall, then... a wonderful set of tunes, one outlier aside. It's a pity that outlier was almost 25% of the disc by time.

The Chopin Project - Ólafur Arnalds & Alice Sara Ott

Track list:

1. Verses
2. Piano Sonata No.3: Largo
3. Nocturne in C Sharp Minor
4. Reminiscence
5. Nocturne in G Minor
6. Eyes Shut - Nocturne in C Minor
7. Written In Stone
8. Letters Of A Traveller
9. Prélude in D Flat Major ("Raindrop")

Running time: 45 minutes
Released: 2015

Ólafur Arnalds is the reason I bought this. I remember thinking at the time that I would get to it soon - I had been doing this blogging exercise for a few months at the time. Now, more than 2 years later I finally get to it, not having listened to any of the tracks even once. Arnalds' compositions have moved me in the past, and whilst I don't exactly have a lot of classical music - not knowledge of, not possession of, not real interest in - I am certainly not anti-classical. It will sound trite to many to compare the classics of our forebears to soundtrack artists, but it is through soundtracks - TV, film and games - that I explore more "classical" sounds - vocal-less melodies with traditional instruments or elements. I know little of Chopin, though I seem to recall that my mother is a fan; I wonder what Arnalds adds to the underlying work, and how he combines with Ott, the pianist, to deliver that to us.

As I start the album playing, I am surprised to find Arnalds listed as the composer for a small majority of the tracks. I am not familiar enough with Chopin to reconcile that. Verses wraps us in a blanket woven of strings, a pleasant cocoon of soothing sounds, its central theme repeating through many octaves, winding down to the close. When this tune completes, we get the first blast of Ott's piano, a strong opening that relaxes back into a more sedate melody. The road outside wants to set this to car horns, very out of place in this sleepy sonata, but it persists with sirens adding to the incongruous  mix. There is an echo-y, fishbowl like quality to the sound which must be a deliberate artefact of the recording. Every so often that contrasts with a wonderfully deft flick of the fingers, producing a trill that skips away over the airwaves, gone almost before it registers.

Too much of the tune is one handed though, the depth of sound and interest are unfortunately short of something vital for large stretches. I found the richer tapestry of strings on Verses far more inviting, enveloping and rewarding. As much as I can see why tunes like this appeal, I find it less soothing because it is too slow, too sparse and the rhythm of the piece, constructed entirely from the piano, is too irregular to fall into pattern recognition and familiarity. My train of thought is interrupted by high pitched sounds. I thought woodwind at first because there was a breathy quality to the initial piercing, but as the tune moves forward it resolves that it is clearly strings. The track has ticked over and the Nocturne is keeping me at arms length, its mournful minor tones consisting of drawn out, paper thin high notes which screech into my ears in a demanding fashion.

I think the tune has improved, come to life, but in fact we have moved on again, a melody breaks out - still mournful in tone but more structured, rooted by a simple stepping bass that helps me build a connection with the piece - titled appropriately as Reminiscence. This reminds me a lot of Arnalds' work on ... And They Have Escaped the Weight of Darkness, and I find myself really, really liking it, my appreciation growing with each new swell of the string section. I find the end of the tune comes on rather suddenly and it lessens the overall impact a bit but that is picking nits.

It is Good Friday, start of a busy Easter weekend; plans in some form every day except Sunday - on top of a week of busy evenings. I have my nephew's birthday party tomorrow, his bedsheet-wrapped present is sitting on my dining table ready for the journey down. The odd wrapping makes perfect sense in context of the gift, but I am sure that I'll get some funny looks! Meanwhile a track that was heavy on environmental effects has passed, with what sounded like waves rolling up a beach overlayed on the music - an affectation that persists to some degree into the following number, too - though it becomes more like a constant rustling wind by that time. A fuzziness on the microphone, a blurred edge to the sound. Trying to artificially recreate some of the impurities of early recording, perhaps? Interestingly the effect drops out mid-way through Eyes Shut - conveniently times with a particular change in focus in the piano part. I was wondering before the listen what Arnalds in would add to a recording of established classical pieces and whether I would even notice; I guess in this particular piece I did.

I should mention that I really like the way Eyes Shut is this nice piano melody sandwiched between bleaker, more abstract sounds, too. Possibly another affectation, then - embedding Chopin's piece in novel composition? I would need to know more of the original work to be sure (or I could, y'know, Google it - but that holds no charm).

The idea that not knowing is sometimes better than knowing is a strange one, yet also undeniably a real thing.

I mentioned soundtracks in my introduction to this post, and Written in Stone sounds like it could be one.

I let my mind wander a bit.

I rather like this.

Looking back at that second piece with the perspective of the rest, it seems like a complete and utter trough, a low that sits out of place, undeserving of being alongside the rest of these. Not as interesting, not as captivating. I have reached the closing number now, and it has a familiarity to me that suggests it is a piece that my mum used to play. We had a grand piano in the house - she still does, though she has resolved to sell; particularly as a teenager, and again when I moved back in after university I was frequently frustrated by her sitting down to play, loudly, late in the evening when I was trying to sleep. I recognise less of the tune as it progresses though, so it may in fact be that the opening refrains have been used elsewhere and seeped into my consciousness through other media.

When I heard about The Chopin Project I didn't hesitate to buy it; I thought I would probably enjoy it or find some interest within. I did, however, hesitate to listen to it. This was the first time through; I don't think it will be the last.

Alba - Markus Stockhausen and Florian Weber

Track list:

1. What Can I Do for You?
2. Mondtraum
3. Surfboard
4. Ishta
5. Emergenzen
6. Barycenter
7. Emilio
8. Possibility I
9. Befreiung
10. Resonances
11. Die Weise Zauberin
12. Synergy Melody
13. Better World
14. Zephir
15. Today

Running time: 61 minutes
Released: 2016

Another new purchase now. Popped up when browsing online shops, had an interesting title which made me look, and an interesting description that made me buy. First listen time.

When I wrote the intro for the last post, I figured that I would be finding more time to listen. Instead I have been short of it. This disc arrived more than a week back now and I have accumulated drafts from new purchases; time to start knocking them off.

This opens quietly, tensely, trembling. It is a soft and warm sound, but neither of the leads. They arrive later - a high pitched, colder, piano, and a Davis-like horn. I think this is a really strong start, a mournful loneliness in there belies the atmosphere in my living room with a muted TV showing pictures of an FA cup semifinal in the periphery of my vision, and the day being as bright now as it has been at any point. The music though is my immediate concern, and one that intrigues and pleases without dragging my mind into the lonely states that I hear. The second piece starts with a starkly clear, crisp piano tune. The trumpet layers in on top. These pieces have a certain soundtrack-like element to them in places, long distance shots, people moving in the distance, but disengaged from our viewpoint.

The name of this album appealed and drew me in as I was browsing, as Alba is an old name, a Gaelic name, for Scotland, as used in the Albion RPG which I am still occasionally running. I wonder if the two Germans behind this music knew that - about the name, I mean; clearly they know nothing and care nothing for my game! I don't think the themes here evoke imagery of the crags and lochs though. It seems an unlikely inspiration, though would fit with the sense of isolation the early tunes convey and perhaps with the snow-blown image on the cover. The third track blows the atmosphere though. A more staccato, more involved, piano tune here is energised, busy it a way that the first two were not. It reminds me of another modern jazz record that I have, but I don't remember if it is GoGo Penguin or Roller Trio. This tone is misplaced here, not fitting given the slower and more considered sounds before and, now, afterwards. Surfboard feels like it has been dropped in from another album, without comment or particular thought - an impression that was there at the beginning of the piece, but cemented by Ishta's return to the initial feel.

I really like the slow, lonely sounds here. I wonder though whether they would still appeal if this wasn't new to me. I think so. Whilst I don't see myself coming back to this over and over as I do with my favourite piano jazz (two albums from Esbjörn Svensson Trio in particular - Seven Days of Falling and Tuesday Wonderland), in the right moods I could see myself looking out time to listen to this again. There is a sedate pacing to the themes here, even when the melody is busy and full of notes. We seem to rely more heavily on the piano than on the horn here, which makes sense... the keys provide more structure, the brass injects presence. When it appears the tunes change noticeably, it dominates.

Barycenter is an interlude - a frenetic piano tune for a minute. It again breaks the tone set by what came before, and what follows. A second occurrence of this is suggestive that the break is intentional, but I am struggling to see what it adds to inject these incongruous numbers. Emilio returns us to a slower and more thoughtful piece and is immediately more pleasant for that. I was expecting Possibility I to be another fish out of water based on the name but whilst it is short it doesn't break the feel of the overall piece so much, and nor does Befreiung despite having a faster pace, a warmer feel and sunnier outlook. This still oozes the relaxed air, though the key part has more urgency and the trumpet plays more positively.

The brighter tone is temporary though as the Resonances are sparse. This time it is the trumpet left to its own devices, plotting its lonely course through a sea of silence. Two minutes fly by, and for the first time I am feeling the obligatory 40s LA vibe that all jazz of a certain type seems to evoke, those dark overhead pans from black and white movies, sleazy joints and private dicks. The feel continues into the following tune, dissipates part way through as the music returns to the themes and feel that have dominated the majority of this disc, then surprises me by re-emerging again. I rather like that as I was caught unawares by the subtle tonic shifts. This is definitely a slow ablum; in that, it feels like a little bit of an antidote to the modern world. For the most part though it does not sound dated or out of place.

I prefer the slower pieces, the really sedate ones. There is a depth to the sound that belies the sparse arrangement as the interplay between our primary actors fills the stage masterfully. Some of the themes are empty enough that it allows my mind to wander along with my eye, and I suspect I am missing some finer points, but the best thing I am finding in these pieces is a sense of peace. The playing still calls to mind Miles Davis more than I was expecting going in. I would naturally have expected a bent towards a more European or Nordic sound. Meanwhile the piano reminds me of latter-day Herbie Hancock, as this is not really piano-led jazz in the same way as Svensson's was. Here the magic is all in the combination, the whole, and the spaces they leave for each other, which brings me back to the Davis reference. It may not be the horn playing itself, it could be the construction of the pieces as a whole harking back to specific moments, likely from Kind of Blue. For shame I can't give a clear reference to back that up, alas.

And just like that I am approaching the end of this one. The hour has zipped by faster than I was expecting and despite the often sedate pacing it hasn't dragged once. There were low points - particularly that first injection of pace and energy which really wasn't needed - but overall I was very impressed and taken with both the individual pieces and the general theme that the album shot for. The final short number finishes very abruptly (if something so stately in pace can be abrupt), which is a little jarring. Still nothing like as jarring as the couple of tracks that broke ranks on pace and tone, though. I am not going to ditch them offhand - first listen and all - but may do in future.