Loving the way that Felix Kubin and Hubert Zemler instinctively dovetail here as CEL, manage to claw out something so addictive, full of dissonant directions.
“Ping Korridor”’s xylophonics set in a bath of different percussives / purring tones, its shifting drum patterns side kicked in snappy splashes and owling contours, a nod to Moebius Plank Neumeier‘s Zero Set LP’s blistered vistas, this properly beams in the headphones. Its ten-minute duration is full of nuanced nous, moon-dusted by subtle radiophonic fallouts that ensnare, then erratically vaporise on a muffled event horizon.
Kubin’s electronic sequins hook out a curious melody throughout this album, bed-fellowing the forks in Zemler’s beats. A place where digital and acoustic blur, dream up new shapes, fraternise with the focus, get caught up in the duelling spontaneity of it all. “Lichtton”’s glowing torques scatter-crowing some ace post-rock drummage, the sciatic pulse of sci-fi motorik that has “Elektrybałt” dancing all DAF-like as its plumage is ruffled in spiky chords and shuddery aluminium. CEL’s revelry develops a life of it own, finds its own sweet mutation. A life that “Doppelbild” butters on whirling rotaries and needling Nintendo, distends its curious Irish jig start-out into something else entirely. The more you listen to CEL, the more you bathe in its compelling complexities, the slip’n’slide that weasels your hemispheres with unquestioning brightness.-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
