I may have gotten a little carried away with how good this release is (score wise) but I stand by the review's assertion that this is a really engaging drone record. Read it all on The Silent Ballet, the blog that keeps me blogging.
The anonymity of this New York-based artist has an effect on the listening experience. The music is given the right to exist on its own, as if it had always existed. It stakes its claim in the mind, making the listener a collaborator in a seductive narrative-noire that travels through a hall of horrors and memories, an escort to a final resting place. One might encounter spirit animals, forgotten lovers, faceless apparitions, leviathan rifts, or a cozy blanket of stars. It is easy to become comfortable in the soothing darkness, and when it seems like eternity has arrived, Black Swan pulls the plug. Listen to it here.
Read the
review in its entirety on The Silent Ballet.
Unlike the "magic carpet sound" of Fennesz, Daniell (who plays in San Agustin) provides a more grounded guitar sound, reminiscent of other electronic folkscapes in the American midwest. As these three strangers get a feel for each other in opener "Unuberwindbare Wande", it is Daniell who provides the first road to follow, as he meanders around his guitar's neck, finding chords and notes like one picks berries. Buck's drumming here features bowed strings, gnarled shapes and clattered atmosphere, but his precision is notable (which is no surprise since he plays for The Necks). As the piece builds, the drums begin to erupt like a warming mud pit. While Fennesz stretches his granulated limbs and settles into an ambient skree, the listener must note that this is a very dense and fascinating way of people saying "hello" to one another. The musicians, after all, had never met before the day this was recorded.
