quête:carrier frequency

Next up on Aris is a particularly special one - Ireland's first electronic music 12''- Carrier Frequency's Telecaster Man, a particularly Irish take on the acid house sounds of the late 80's, that still does the job 35 years later. ''A nine minute tune with two chords, it's just f-ckin' madness mostly - distortion and drum machines.'' simply put by one of the artist himself, but it's much more really. The record originally released in 1989 was a collaborative effort featuring the talents of Mr. Spring, Leo O'Kelly of 70's folk heroes Tir Na nOg, and Trevor Knight of 80s synth pop band Auto Da Fe, Mr. Spring, a veteran of pirate radio since his early teens and the local go to studio guy for dreamers and the Depeche Mode and Talk Talk clones of the time, spearheaded the project. Drawing from his extensive experience and technical prowess, Spring had already established his own studio in 1987, equipped with state-of-the-art gear including an Atari sequencer and an Akai s900 sampler. They decided to work together on it as Spring says ''We wanted to get a Cabaret Voltaire sound to it and have a bit of fun.'' Fueled by a shared passion for experimentation and sonic exploration and inspired by the dynamic energy of the club scene and the rapidly evolving sounds of electronic music, the late-night recording sessions in Spring's studio characterized by spontaneity and innovation. The result of their collaboration was ''Telecaster Man,'' a nine-minute tour de force combining distorted guitars, hypnotic rhythms, and pulsating synthesizers. The 12 inch comes with the original and Sinewave mixes plus a new Mr. Spring remix from the original multi tracks rounding it out with the replication remix and a bonus acapella. Full colour sleeve and comes with extended liner notes.

From deep in the heart of Moomin Valley, frozen in time for many
midwinters passed, comes a genuine treasure chest of never
heard Moomin melodies and instrumental comet songs composed
for the continued animated adventures of our Fuzzy-Felt freak folk
friends who disappeared from UK TV pastures in the mid-1980s.
From the top of the Hobgoblin’s Hat and the bottom of Snufkin’s
satchel, original Moomins composer Graeme Miller (‘The Carrier
Frequency’) kindly shares this patchwork selection of spellbinding
sound poems and percussive peons made using the very same
selection of ocarinas, kalimbas, miniature squeak boxes, Waspy
synths, cornflake box shakers and a seemingly endless array of
talent and lo-fi home studio trickery.

Regarded as one of the most enigmatic, beguiling and haunting
imported children’s programmes to ever grace UK TV screens,
‘The Moomins’ was one of the first-ever commissions by Anne
Wood (‘The Teletubbies’) who ingeniously replaced the original
Polish/Austrian/Finnish soundtrack with homemade music
experiments by unknown post-punk theatre students Graeme
Miller and Steve Shill (aka The Commies From Mars) who, after
the screening of two unforgettable series in 1983 and 1985, were
left in eager anticipation of rescoring further Moomin adventures
with new melodies, arrangements and sound designs, which then
lingered in the ether waiting until the Groke awoke and
Snorkmaiden sang once more.

With future felt adventures screened exclusively in Poland and
Germany for many years (often as feature films) these unheard
recordings are the only genuine musical sequel to the bizarre UK
version of ‘The Moomins’ and stand as important inclusions in
Graeme Miller’s own portfolio of theatrical theme music and sound
installations as part of The Impact Theatre Cooperative, including
collaborations with artists and writers such as Russell Hoban.

Witnessed in fragmented form during a short run of incredible rare
live screenings at The Barbican Theatre and various film festivals,
this record marks the first time this music has been heard in its
original full-length form, free from sound effects, dialogue and
whimpers of euphoric joy and nostalgia from those who have
continued to crave the company of our Moomintrolls and their
mysterious music over the last five decades.

As electronic musician Lorenz Brunner sketched his vision for the first Recondite full-length on Ghostly in five years he took a step back to assess who and where he was as an artist. 2013’s Hinterland accelerated a progression — he’s since been touring around the world and releasing music with labels such as Hotflush and his own Plangent Records — yet, for him, the album cast a shadow of pressure that widened over time. As with most art forms, perhaps especially music, there is an expectation to change, to creatively pivot elsewhere with each project. After careful consideration, Brunner rejects this notion with his new work, opting alternately to use the icy Hinterland as an aesthetic and tonal template for a like-minded map of evocative compositions aptly titled after the German word “stillstand,” now presented as Dwell.

“I am coherent with what I do, even if I’m not reinventing myself,” Brunner says contentedly. In regards to the album title, he adds, “It’s like when you’re on a hike and you stop and look at the scenery; you may know which path you want to go next but right now you are dwelling.” The title also doubles as a reference to everyday domestic life, a restorative haven for Brunner between tours. Like Hinterland, he incorporates a subtle range of field recordings to intensify the textural atmosphere. While he worked at home on “Mirror Games,” Brunner noticed the buzz coming from across the room, where his wife was using an electric toothbrush, naturally harmonized with the track. He decided to push that frequency further and record the device directly, syncing vibrations for added urgency across the propulsive piece as well as parts of the ambient “Interlude 2.”

Windswept, moody, and melodic, moments on Dwell linger with emotional resonance. The title track sends an eerie synth loop through a field of techno kicks. The beats recede for a breather four minutes in as if to survey the surroundings. If Brunner pivots anywhere — possibly just a new perspective afforded by being confidently stationary in his craft — it’s by leaning more into hip-hop structures. He’s an avid rap fan and his love for those production techniques is notably present on “Nobilia,” a queasy shuffler (titled in reference to the Super Nintendo game Secret of Evermore), “Interlude 1,” which skitters in lockstep with contemplative synth chords, and “Surface,” an isolatory, ruminative sequence. The closer “Moon Pearl” soothes and shimmers like its namesake, a cherished gem in The Legend of Zelda series that allows carriers of the gem to retain their shape and essence in the Dark World.

In an era where constant reinvention and highly self-reflexive brand awareness reigns supreme in the music industry, Brunner as Recondite does something many artists try to avoid, he dwells in his own established identity, one that has garnered him a devoted fanbase. His murky electronic productions, built around mirage-like pads and clipped drum programming, have proven to be highly functional and spectrally enveloping; Dwell is not a return to form, it is a further study of the shapes, it is the modes, and the structures Brunner has trademarked.

As electronic musician Lorenz Brunner sketched his vision for the first Recondite full-length on Ghostly in five years he took a step back to assess who and where he was as an artist. 2013’s Hinterland accelerated a progression — he’s since been touring around the world and releasing music with labels such as Hotflush and his own Plangent Records — yet, for him, the album cast a shadow of pressure that widened over time. As with most art forms, perhaps especially music, there is an expectation to change, to creatively pivot elsewhere with each project. After careful consideration, Brunner rejects this notion with his new work, opting alternately to use the icy Hinterland as an aesthetic and tonal template for a like-minded map of evocative compositions aptly titled after the German word “stillstand,” now presented as Dwell.

“I am coherent with what I do, even if I’m not reinventing myself,” Brunner says contentedly. In regards to the album title, he adds, “It’s like when you’re on a hike and you stop and look at the scenery; you may know which path you want to go next but right now you are dwelling.” The title also doubles as a reference to everyday domestic life, a restorative haven for Brunner between tours. Like Hinterland, he incorporates a subtle range of field recordings to intensify the textural atmosphere. While he worked at home on “Mirror Games,” Brunner noticed the buzz coming from across the room, where his wife was using an electric toothbrush, naturally harmonized with the track. He decided to push that frequency further and record the device directly, syncing vibrations for added urgency across the propulsive piece as well as parts of the ambient “Interlude 2.”

Windswept, moody, and melodic, moments on Dwell linger with emotional resonance. The title track sends an eerie synth loop through a field of techno kicks. The beats recede for a breather four minutes in as if to survey the surroundings. If Brunner pivots anywhere — possibly just a new perspective afforded by being confidently stationary in his craft — it’s by leaning more into hip-hop structures. He’s an avid rap fan and his love for those production techniques is notably present on “Nobilia,” a queasy shuffler (titled in reference to the Super Nintendo game Secret of Evermore), “Interlude 1,” which skitters in lockstep with contemplative synth chords, and “Surface,” an isolatory, ruminative sequence. The closer “Moon Pearl” soothes and shimmers like its namesake, a cherished gem in The Legend of Zelda series that allows carriers of the gem to retain their shape and essence in the Dark World.

In an era where constant reinvention and highly self-reflexive brand awareness reigns supreme in the music industry, Brunner as Recondite does something many artists try to avoid, he dwells in his own established identity, one that has garnered him a devoted fanbase. His murky electronic productions, built around mirage-like pads and clipped drum programming, have proven to be highly functional and spectrally enveloping; Dwell is not a return to form, it is a further study of the shapes, it is the modes, and the structures Brunner has trademarked.