The addition of bassist Jon Short to Das Rad‘s long-term trio of Nick Robinson, Martin Archer and Steve Dinsdale has lent an extra heft and low-end adventure to an already adventurous trio.
Although recently released, this album compiles work that dates back to 2020 and perhaps because of that runs an absolute gamut of styles and sounds, constantly switching positions, leading the listener astray and dropping hints that don’t always come to fruition and instead end up far from home.
All players bar Jon are credited with the extremely vague “keys”, so as well as the strength and density one might expect from players of this ilk, there is much mysterious and external stimuli that fill in any resultant gaps and prompting excrescent sidelines that move focus away from the main event. Whatever the album contains though, it is hard to describe it as jazz; there is much more of a cool European feel to the sly hypnotic bass groove of opener “Lutraphobia”. Why anyone could fear otters, I have no idea; but the swing of the track jars with the sticky, sleazy sax and guitar. There is an angry sort of energy in the guitar and that is palpable throughout the album, as if Nick is tired of pressing the point home where as Martin’s woodwind is generally lighter, often dropping hints to the listener and leading them into a fruitless search. Meanwhile the rhythm section forges its own muscular, sharp shapes.It is more about concocting an atmosphere than adhering to anything like guidelines; so the shadowy, barely contained mass of action that is “Bergen Cross” with its full kit work out and distorted ghost of Jon Lord keyboard runs melts into the brooding abstraction of “Confiture”. Tones combine for a thick fug that binds the listener, ensnaring with slow moving force; a gaggle of clarinet, a surge of disparate noise, all knitting together like a web around the listener, the looseness and surge of the sax tearing up the sky.
Some of it really broods with a sinister edge, prowling, searching in dark corners, gradually upping tempo until the pursuit is in full flight, querulous keys abetting malignant guitar. At other points, there is an airy lightness, with the pressure dropping and a clear sunrise sound appearing, turning its back on the night. The flute on “Farfalla” adds to a kind of sylvan fantasy with typewriter and radio lending a surreal edge. Incredibly, before the sprawling song suite “Expergefactor” takes hold of proceedings, the quartet takes a dash through a heavy ’80s influenced splurge of post-punk, the bass as wilful as you would want and the shards of guitar, sprinkling in your hair and also the reggae-ish swagger of “Kingdom Fall”, airy with echo that winks towards dub, but provides much space for surf-influenced guitar.To be honest, the album would be satisfying if it ended there; but the six-part finale really takes all the ideas already provided and slows them down, intensifying them, stitching them together and then unfurling them with the added confusion of Peter Rophone‘s treated voices, hidden insinuating whispers and random, restless outbursts. It is slow, it simmers, working at tangents, players feeling their way in, allowing time to take its toll, the tension and strength of guitar and bass offset by the flightier woodwind and the steady percussive precision.
At points it flirts with metal, but is far too fluid and changeable to stay for long, instead switching tack and looking down the long meandering road towards prog. Is it prog? Well, it is certainly progressive in ideas and outlook; but it is always restless and you know that momentum is in the back of their minds. At one point Peter’s voice echoes a train whistle, but a tranquil garden will ever be round the corner; and although some distant landmarks are possibly familiar, the scenery is in constant flux, its changes eventually rendering you lost and inevitably in their power.Working as a quartet adds further strength to an already impressive body of work and this might be Das Rad’s best yet. Let’s see how the next few years unfold.
-Mr Olivetti-
