Kurt Liedwart’s Mikroton label keeps releasing music by broad-minded artists whose vision is served by electroacoustic palettes where stimulating sound waves and quasi-organic motility are regarded as a self-enhancing silence. In Future Perfect, the initial physical response originates an ascension across subsequent stages of intuitive comprehension that’s finalized in half an hour. More and more frequently this appears to be the ideal length in such a sonic ambit, provided that the textural juxtapositions – and relative consequences – come from individuals who are ready. Not only technically.
This “triple B” unit leaves no doubt in that sense. One immediately recognizes the directness of a message as proportional to its depth; this coincides with the amalgamation of the sources to a point of, so to speak, “nowhere mind”. You don’t care anymore about where the guitar is, or who created that hum, while merged with a joint resonance. The perceived phenomena are noted as remarkable for a split second, but there is no real need to study and file them; instinct works alone. As always, a (mostly useless) description might use pictorial distractions: elongated pitches, mild distortion, stretched partials, noises firstly greeted as gently intrusive that become piercingly nasty a little later. The pulses may be minimal, yet each gesture weighs an awful lot. Gossamer drones and gradual variations in color and dynamics appear at the same time intentional and entirely natural. Quiet concentration prevails, the performers definitely aware of their role of aural architects inside a short fragment of timelessness. These experiential transmissions are defined by accuracy and humbleness.