Thirty-six minutes to ascend. Thirty-six minutes to grasp the interior of a piano and strum, stroke and pluck softly until it hums. Thirty-six minutes to clatter and hiss between strings and keys and electronic devices, to shuttle like a poltergeist rising mordant among ectoplasmic shudders.
Reinhold Friedl‘s prepared piano and Franck Vigroux‘s analogue synthesizers, tape recorders and other machinery collide on Tobel with the force of an occasionally irresistible gale meeting a clattery object, the pair rattling off each other until their collective instruments set to shaking. When they scrape and shine, they do so with the slow ear-grinding scream of metal caressing metal, brakes hauled and groaning in an agonising gasp undershot with distant detonations in the underpinnings. The duo like to buzz
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