Russ Young: all sounds, composition
“The impression of a location or object was absorbed and re-imagined with sound”. I kind of like this description by Russ Young who, in the nine chapters of Common Pond, devises strategies for a set of electronic miniatures that feature melodic warmheartedness, microscopic hues of real world and easy digestibility in equal doses. You know that I’m usually quite grouchy when it comes to evaluating this type of production, and I’m not going to kid anyone by declaring that there’s something authentically groundbreaking in this music. Still, Young distances himself from catchpenny collectives through a gift which I’d macroscopically describe as “love”. As a matter of fact, these snapshots convey feelings similar to those accompanying many summer reflections of the adolescence. Lights glow, insects buzz, liquids drip, objects clatter, reverse chords throb. Shades of blurriness and luminous shards get reflected all around the “holographic images” (to quote the composer yet again). Underwater songs, stratified indolence and, in general, a complete aversion to outrageousness make sure that anything occurring herein will not upset your daydreaming. By putting yourself in the soporific coils of “Belmont Transmitter”, chances are that you’ll end falling asleep on your couch with the mind entirely cleaned up. Me? I could listen to “East Bight Stones” all night long. Good one, this one.