Ivar Grydeland, Ingar Zach: unspecified instruments
Founders of the very imprint that published the CD in 2011, Grydeland and Zach construct a fugacious monument to the barely expressible (at least via spoken communication). Even if they’re both credited with “music” instead of listing their instrumentation – I have come to sympathize with this attitude more and more over the years – one can envision a spectacle of metal objects and amplified skins and strings at the basis of these 29 minutes of magnificently pulsating maturation of pre-explosive drones. The outcome consists of seriously wobbly humming – almost to the point of increasing the brain’s rattle percentage in a couple of instances – and an onslaught of forbidding tones, most of them not really owning a decisive pitch. Imagine the sort of self-generated chain of reactions that might occur if some living creature was able to establish its life cycle inside huge electric cables, and maybe you can get a faint evidence of what I’m talking about. Once again I must emphasize the graduality in the improvisation’s short existence: the dynamic arc respects the needs of a natural process that seems to connect directly with our biological mechanisms, the body of an absorptive organism responding accordingly. The strength is there, but it’s not merely brute (though you may feel a bit threatened by the mass of Organum-meets-seismic rumble that begins after the fifteenth minute or so). The duo appears in total control of the angered temper of a bad low-frequency beast, and channels that ire into something formative, and physically exhilarating.