Nils Quak: unspecified instruments.
This CD marks my first meeting with the music of Quak, manifestly addressed to listeners willing to plunge into pensive melancholy. Luckily, the unbearable lassitude that seems to imbue a great number of albums in this domain is largely missing. Sure, the sonorities employed by the composer are not what one characterizes as “innovational” – being relatively proportional to most everything presented in the past from Eno, Keith Berry or Fennesz (and many more in-between imitators), in a slightly skin-deep variant for good measure. Yet these somehow beaten constituents are at least put at work with epigrammatic skillfulness, thus preventing us from arriving at the dreaded “OK, enough of that” point. On the contrary, spinning the disc unendingly (well, let’s say three consecutive times…) will reveal the presence of a couple of secure rooms, useful for a bit of “dispirited daydreaming” dressed with unresolved subsonic activity and environmental glances surrounded by nebulous auras. Had those dog-tired vinyl tricks and computerized clicks and pops been left out, I would be happier. However, the summoning power of this release is greater than its deficiencies.