Martin Archer is once again proving himself one of the hardest-working people in music with two very different collaborations in quick succession.
It seems that every other release that comes from Discus involves his playing, but there is always an extraordinary diversity in styles and sounds. The latest albums here from avant-rock / prog jazz trio Das Rad and an improv duo with guitarist and old friend John Jasnoch are very different beasts, but continue in the searching vein for which the label has become a byword.
Das Rad’s Laik Tors is their third album in four years and in a way continues their charge into the outer reaches of what a trio can produce when giving full rein to their imagination. Spread across one hour and nine tracks, not only do they veer between heavy rhythmic workouts and less dynamic, more textural numbers, but the pieces themselves often start out in one direction before ending up somewhere else entirely.Vaporous keys and flute engage with a sinuous rhythm on opener “Offtwerk” and it dances off with a kind of proggy jazz feel, the rhythmic sturdiness supplemented by electronic whispers. Nick Robinson‘s guitar soloing is supple, dropping out and switching places with spiralling keyboards when you least expect it. There is a looser section where the sounds warp and find themselves dragged into a maelstrom of sound, before easing out the other side like a white-water raft.
There is a nice antithesis between one track and the next on this album, as if one were a reaction to the preceding. “Satanic Particles” is all bending and time-warping of sounds as spectral electronics hover in the background, with electric piano lending an air of gentleness to a haphazard chase, while the quasi-medieval string sounds of “Kapow!” come on a little like a spy theme. There is a a circular insistence led by the woodwind and a simple but effective rhythmic drive that uses space to lend an air of tension before the search for an exit leads to an explosive climax; and all this in just the opening three tracks. The battle between structureless interplay and rhythmic heft is played out across the album. The synth bass of “Lebensmude” appears as if from a post-rock mist, everything in a dew-covered and morning-lit Explosions In The Sky territory in which they firmly stake their claim, before hauling it into an effects-laden crevasse, fuzzed and whacked. “Kopfkino” hints at ancient battles long finished, the crying ranks of guitar ascending from an acoustic guitar and flute intro; while once again I am reminded of Trans Am in the night territory of “Mauger Hay”, its glistening synth glory scrapping with growling guitar and cold urban electronicsLaik Tors is a dizzying array of ideas and experiments that lead the listener all over the map with little respite. The tribal jaggedness and otherworldly drift of the title track is another unexpected avenue, nipping ghosts of electronics and fractured synths unleashing a guitar shred that seems to come from nowhere. It does feel over too soon, as if they still have a million ideas to unleash and the euphoric feeling that overrides the closing track warms the cockles, its spiralling sax and murky bob and weave highlighting the returning motif; while the real secret is the subtle percussion keeping below the radar but always there, ready for anything.
Their musical relationship goes back four decades, and on the elastic guitar and delirious horns of the opening track, the sounds they produce are almost speech-like; it feels like a conversation left dormant for years and then taken up again with no noticeable lag. The guitar ebbs and surges, the plucking and throbbing harsh, and it seems like rural mania under a clear blue sky, the two instruments causing similar sensations as they dovetail and drift into sublime peace.
The impression is of two players searching for a common end but using disparate methods is key on “World Heartbreak / Nuh”, where the bending strings of the guitar and the deep foam of the sax gives it a sultry succession. As the piece continues, the image of a child running endlessly in circles, waiting for the thrill of dizziness to envelop them, is just joyful as John searches the fretboard for answers to a never-ending list of questions.
The variety of instruments played here is mind-blowing, each player utilising six or seven to maximise the whirling effect. There is a train motion that could also be a loose radio signal on “Railroad Blues”, but the Hawaiian-style pedal steel melts that idea of movement into wide-open and dusty vista in which the yearning sax tugs at the heartstrings. The mournful battleground of “Slide Catch”, with its mystical flute and an ancient plucking, gives a certain lyrical abstraction, the scampering of the gentle guitar giving way to the subtle whisper of the flute, their secrets passed on through the ages. The dancing duo in the long-form “Provenance” has a fistful of passion, but also an element of uncertainty. The jazzy yet abstract chords are really sweet, with lovely little harmonics that ring in the ears long after the piece has moved on, its intricate pattern weaving with pockets of space left to be filled with faint sounds, like esoteric information awaiting just the right listener. You always feel like that person when listening to this album, as if somehow Martin and John have tapped into some innate language which binds you and draws you into their little world, if only for the duration of the album.Provenance is a lovely, intricate and pleasurable place to be and all the more special for its scarcity.
-Mr Olivetti-
