John Bishop‘s latest Tortusa release, Bre, finds him teaming up with a group of like-minded sonic explorers to prepare a series of fantastical, elemental soundscapes that act as ciphers for the extraordinary images on the cover. The sounds sweep from the speakers, appearing at once modern yet ageless, as if they were generated with no understanding or knowledge of the current state of music. With a guest player or two on each piece, they all shine with a different energy, but the instruments are barely recognisable as such, coated as they are with layers of texture and dusty beauty.
It is interesting how the guest players lend a little tension to the pieces, as if the various components are not necessarily suited. They are like hybrid patchworks, with natural found sounds rubbing shoulders with encroachments of the modern world in a meeting of ancient and modern that then finds a treated instrument floated over the top like a paper boat making its way gently downstream.
Some instruments are treated in such a way that they are hard to distinguish, as if they are transforming into something new. Arve Henriksen‘s playing on “Ubvegelige” is fleeting, and the sparse junglescape over which his sounds escape draw you further into this imagined world. The pieces often shimmer, but the dusty glitches that populate the spaces between breaths react against the glistening backdrop. Unexpected things appear and disappear, as if seen through mist; but at other times, they appear as if from a heat haze, materialising in front of you and then sweeping away, just as you think you have them. The sounds all feel so carefully crafted, each player putting their elements in just the right place, hewn from some unknown substance and synthesised into sound. It is interesting how even though you kind of recognise the instruments, or at least that they are instruments, they feel like something else, something without human involvement, like the heartbeat of the earth mixed with its rhythms and mysteries.“Ikke Tale” creeps suffused with a myriad of tiny sounds, soothing trumpet balm pushing it way beyond jazz to some other realm over which music as we know it has no bearing. Birdsong, the rush of water, the cackling of animals, the settling of substance, it all merges like a true moment of realisation, as if we are being shown everything that we have to appreciate around us, but are being shown without any prejudices, just a whole fresh perspective.
At times, Bre is like the wild dreams of childhood reimagined; yet at others, with the slow crackling of fire or electricity on closer “Orten”, the rippling trails and long echoes over ancient, barren land show us dreams we never thought we would have, a whole universe just out of reach. Thanks to these subtle players and their thoughtful imaginings, those unexpected vistas become ours as well.-Mr Olivetti-
