There is something about the sound of the modular synth that spells the future to me, more than any other music making device. It is the sound of science fiction, but also science fact, and it is the wonders of the universe rather then the horrors of the universe that they tend to evoke, that limitless space and the sense of endless adventure. Here, in the third volume of Ian Boddy‘s Tone Science label compilations, various artists have taken these venerable machines and constructed their own sound worlds, their eccentric orbits having some little spark in common, but generally heading out in their own directions.
That pendulum swing, the echo bouncing off planets scattered far in the distance is what opens the album. Robert Rich‘s “Cyclosporum” pitches that wide pendulum against the twinkling scatter of lights even further in the distance. It is a little like music for the fast-forward film of sunrises and sunsets squeezed into a moment as we await the stars to light up the night sky. The sound is clean and pure and full of wonder, moving through a slowly evolving myriad of patterns.
Caspar Hesselager‘s “The Divided Apparatus” is similar, but the pulse is slower and yet still retaining the wonder. The sounds are effusive and vibrant, but simple and repetitive and it is that evolving sense of repetition that is the thread running through a lot of these tracks. The tone incrementally increases, not so that you notice until things are louder, feeling like a journey drawing forever closer to some inevitable unknown. The imagination of the listener is a large part of the appeal here. The tracks are like canvases for you to project your own imagery. The contemplative drone and deep bass notes of Little Ambient Machine‘s “Anemones” suit the title perfectly. That sense of the rocking motion of deep underwater is evoked here. You can almost see the seahorses drifting past the anemones as the sounds swell and ebb in that strange back and forth motion, and even the little key textures are ruffled and sleepy. Not everything is tied to a rhythm though. Radek Rudnicki‘s “En-Edge” is far more abstract, with distorted Buddhist vocals and deep, sinister vibrations. It is unsettling, and for the first time the sense of adventure has left. There is a removed sense of movement, as if it were immense yet immeasurably distant with the sound of Tibetan bells, synthesised and warped, lending at least a little respite. It doesn’t move really, just kind of lingers, ominous and disconcerting.Eden Grey‘s “AVA2” is all about sinister footsteps passing through concrete passages buzzing with dangerous energy, while Benge‘s “Round#2” foregoes space for a kind of drifting pastoralism that is springlike and full of joy. The only thing that wrongfoots it is a disjointed drum track that appears oddly put of place. d’Voxx‘s “Angel” heads for space again, but with an even more exploratory nature; the sound of vast new worlds hoving into view. This sense of discovery unfolds as an interplay between searching forward motion and low, deep background stasis adds a touch of confusion. The Bureau B-like drone and pitter-patter of Redshift‘s “Berserker” is the most dancefloor-friendly thing here, and reminds us that these machines were often used to draw people up into motion. It has that Euro synth banger vibe that is full of energy, but contains enough interesting textures to satisfy those who just want to listen.
It is another different energy and one that is welcome as we descend into the final track, Jogging House‘s “Hands”. This is dreamlike, with unusual eastern textures that feel like being in an aquarium, but one that is close to the sea. The odd juxtaposition between the artifice of the aquarium and the faint memory of the hiss of surf is intriguing and a good note on which to end.Cosines And Tangents is a fascinating compilation, proving that there is so much mileage in the modular synth universe, its evocation of so many worlds and vistas almost limitless. The sense of warmth and adventure is there for everyone to experience.
-Mr Olivetti-
