Another month and another Martin Archer collaboration. You have the feeling that the man never sleeps, adventures in sound flowing through his veins at all moments.
The thing is, the quality never seems to dip even when the variety is so great. Here, he reconvenes with old friend John Jasnoch on bass guitar, percussionist Lee Allatson and Sarah Farmer on violin and electronics.
The title of Wasp Honey is curious, as is the album artwork. The idea of wasps making honey lends the question if they did, how would it taste? Bitter? Sour? Is this album attempting to replicate the sensation of stumbling across wasp honey in another world? The artwork is mysterious and slightly threatening, so how will the music appear?
Group improv “Flood” opens the proceedings, a shadowy murmur, the violin a lonely cry. The instruments feel overwhelmed by the abandoned imagery and they carry through the echoing corridors, hallways emptied of obvious life. The sax feels full of hurt, although as things progress so each player rallies round, supporting, banding together, disparate energies finding a common goal. The sparseness of the sound allows the listener to infer much.It is an intriguing opening gambit and you know that you are in for an ear-opening journey. On this album, John’s bass has the loveliest tone, leading a reflective cymbal filled dance on “Two Way Traffic”. A mellow turn, plucked violin hesitant, then the riff appears and Lee strikes out, lovely tom rolls gathering the momentum in both hands and coalescing around the fleeting, fleeing sax. The interaction is delightful and you feel they are safe indoors, away from threat.
The collisions at times sound accidental, but then something sparks one player to follow a thread and see where it leads. Someone may sit back and observe, allow things to unfold until their presence is right and then sweep back in; a sudden tumble of drums, a sweet swarm of sax notes or a romantic burr of violin. Woodland is viewed through shaded windows, a mere glance yet a whole physical yearning away. The refinement, the extraordinary patience speaks of hidden reserves, with Martin’s keening notes high and fluid, often leading an attempt. The fact that it was all recorded in an afternoon is so impressive, an effortless mosaic of texture and pattern. “Microagressor” is all about the low burn of bass depth and the simmering wildfire of percussion. There is a strange sense of constrained urgency, violin and reeds stuck in torpor; while “Swoon” has lachrymose violin against a constant pressure build of percussion. There is a pleasing solitude here, the violin hazing a layer of invasive drone, John’s bass the warm heart just waiting for Martin to let rip and suddenly all the latent energy of the previous pieces is spent, little details noticeable as almost silence follows.The larger album pieces are interspersed by solo snippets of a graphic score composed by Orchestra Of The Upper Atmosphere alum Walt Shaw and these act almost as palate cleansers. Weightless and animated sometimes, gruff sprinklings, some movements too quick to hear, all short and sweet but just waiting to be hung together.
The album closes with the title track, which is unexpectedly the sweetest thing here when perhaps I was expecting something else. The sax croons and although there is a hint of darkness in the creeping bass, it finishes Wasp Honey with a renewed outlook — although questions still remain.-Mr Olivetti-
