Machinefabriek - Stillness Soundtracks II

Album: Stillness Soundtracks II

Artist: Machinefabriek

Label: Glacial Movements Records

Catalogue no: GM040

Tracklist:

     1.      Stillness #6 (Lemaire Channel, Antarctica)

     2.      Stillness #7 (Antarctic Sound, Antarctica)

     3.      Stillness #8 (Laubeuf Fjord, Antarctica)

     4.      Stillness #9 (Hanusse Bay, Antarctica)

     5.      Stillness #10 (Antarctic Sound, Antarctica)

It feels rather bizarre jumping into a second part of a series without having reviewed the first volume, but such is the fast-moving world of underground music that this is inevitable. Needless to say I will be assessing this on its own merits, although I am very familiar with the aesthetic of this Italian label and somewhat familiar with the music of Machinefabriek. Let’s jump without further preamble straight into the icy waters of Glacial Movements’ latest release, then.

(Also, for reference, I’ll simply be calling each track by its ‘Stillness #’ for brevity’s sake)

Our visit to the vast snowbound southern continent known as Antarctica begins when we sail into ‘Stillness #6’ and, as soon as you step on board the deck of your ship of the imagination, you’re greeted with chillingly cold winds that threaten to freeze you to the spot. Ice crackles create the sounds the movement our virtual vessels makes through the channel, and sonorous drones and a mournful howling paint a vivid picture of the steep cliffs that line each bank of the Lemaire Channel. It is truly an inhuman landscape here, beautiful yet ultimately inhospitable, a place where the human animal is unfit to be a part of and unwelcome. It isn’t any wonder that HP Lovecraft set his seminal tale ‘At the Mountains of Madness’ on Antarctica – only the truly alien could fit in and call it home, plus the cyclopean nature of the natural features instantly separates the two scales of human and inhuman definitively. It is a place to admire from a safe vantage point, but not one to get too intimate with.

‘Stillness #7’ opens out widely, just like the Antarctic Sound itself, a hovering upper register drone floating almost serenely and hauntingly in the frigid air, a platform perhaps for the reverberations and echoes that appear to reach out from a cocoon of quietude, the sounds and emanations remnants of a distant past frozen into the very atmosphere. Unlike the previous track, we feel unbounded and unfettered, an endlessly slow progression of miniscule movements and events that eventually accumulate and shape the very continent itself. Simultaneously it feels fragile, ephemeral, and ghostly, as if possessing qualities that we humans continually fail to grasp both physically and metaphorically. But stillness here is an illusion, as the sounds of running water remind us – in spite of apparent stasis, this vast place is always moving, on both the micro and macro scales.

Venturing further, we find ourselves in Laubeuf Fjord, the subject of ‘Stillness #8’. This is another one of those open spaces like that referred to in the previous ‘Stillness’, but judging from photographs it appears to be a feature that could be classed as being one that is very open yet still bounded, sitting in between the Lemaire Channel and Antarctic Sound in topography and size. A keening, whistling high-borne wind swirls around us, a spectral sound that seeps into our bones and mind. It appears not to have one specific source; instead it exists everywhere within this particular space, a presiding spirit if you like firmly and irrevocably tied to this location. In some respects this serves as a species of prelude to ‘Stillness #9’, This track, I think, is the most traditional-sounding ambient piece so far, with sweeping uplifting chords and drones combining to lift one up on subtle currents of air, propelling us into the rarefied regions of the atmosphere where the dancing sprites of the aurora dwell. Indeed, it feels more descriptive of the sky than the earth – one can very easily imagine an uninterrupted and unclouded arch of heaven above, sprinkled with the glittering sequins of the cosmos providing tiny spotlights for the colourful veils of light wafting across it. This feels cold, bright, and distant, but simultaneously warm and inviting. We are graciously being allowed to share in the dance and the bounty. 

For our last port of call we find ourselves back in Antarctic Sound for ‘Stillness #10’ – this time, however, we are treated to an even more spacious portrait of this place. Warm celestial drones wash over us gently, reminding us perhaps that all places, no matter how familiar they may appear, have different moods in the same way we do. It feels as if this is the last lonely place on our planet, a place of staggering beauty that’s ever-evolving and moving, and that it will continue to do so well after we’ve disappeared from the face of the earth, until the time the sun turns against its own children and engulfs them in flame and destruction. The continent’s very isolation hopefully ensures that our depredations will be non-existent, and that we will see the light and leave it alone. A useless hope perhaps, but this still emphasises that as vast as this tract of ice-bound land at the southern end of the world may be it is still fragile and worthy of our protection.

This is a beautiful album, gracing us with a gamut of atmospheres ranging from the frigid and unwelcoming to the warm and embracing. Furthermore, it also speaks of the continent’s contradictory solidity and fragility, as well as its movements and evolution on both the micro- and macroscopic scale. It encompasses all of its facets, bringing with it reminders that not only is it an awe-inspiring place but also dangerous, often for the very same reasons. It’s a continent that very few of us will ever get the chance to physically visit but, if you’re like me, albums like this do more than enough to take me there in spirit, where I can observe in safety and warmth. Given the climatic state of our planet at present, this is about as close as I wish to go. As far as I’m concerned this is another winner from Glacial Movements.

Available as a limited CD in an edition of 300 and as a digital download from here:

https://glacialmovements.bandcamp.com/album/stillness-soundtracks-ii

Psymon Marshall 2020.

Netherworld - Algida Bellezza.

Album: Algida Bellezza

Artist: Netherworld

Label: Glacial Movements

Catalogue no: GM039

Tracklist:

     1.      Vulpes Lagopus

     2.      Somniosus Microcephalus

     3.      Orcinus Orca

     4.      Monodon Monoceros

     5.      Ursus Maritimus

Alessandro Tedeschi’s Glacial Movements label has been around quite a while now, and in this latest release it’s Alessandro’s own turn to shine under the spotlight. And, as the label name suggests, it’s entirely devoted to releasing ambient music of the cold and isolationist variety, music as a soundtrack to Arctic and Antarctic expeditions. Let’s face it, many of us must have wondered what it would be like to visit either of the coldest regions on earth. Additionally, both the Arctic and Antarctic continents have appeared in popular culture (Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, Lovecraft’s ‘At the Mountains of Madness’ to name but two) and also in conspiracy theory (the hollow earth theory for one, the place insideour planet where all kinds of weirdnesses abound and having its entrance in the polar regions…). There’s no denying that it has captured the imaginations of a great many people throughout history.

But let us not forget that both Polar Circles are home to an array of purely earth-based animals, and this album concentrates on those living within the Arctic. They are: Arctic Fox (Vulpes Lagopus), Greenland Shark (Somniosus Microcephalus), Killer Whale (Orcinus Orca), Narwhal (Monodon Monoceros), and Polar Bear (Ursus Maritimus). And it would be as well to remember that, as robust and as implacable as both continents appear to the untrained eye, these creatures live within an extremely delicate and fragile environment, and it is this that makes them precious. Over and above that, Alessandro was inspired to record this album by something equally precious, delicate, and fragile – the birth of his daughter, who he would often cradle in his arm whilst recording.

What delights, then, does Algida Bellezza (which is Italian for ‘icy beauty’) hold for the listener? Beginning with ‘Vulpes Lagopus’, the stunning Arctic Fox notable for its pure white fur, we are immediately greeted with wispy ethereal tones, a cold but gentle wind whipping up little flurries of snow. In the snowfield is a small mound, a noticeable bulge in an otherwise flat landscape. We may be tempted to move on, thinking it just another oddity in an odd land, but to our surprise the mound moves, and up pops the face of an Arctic Fox, whose slumbers we’ve just disturbed. It eyes us with disdain, and then gets up and trots off, until it disappears, a white shape on a white background, an astonishingly beautiful animal merging into an equally gloriously stunning landscape. The little fox is as ethereal as its surroundings, and its presence seems as ephemeral as a snowflake’s.

‘Somniosus Microcephalus’, the Greenland Shark, is a member of the sleeper shark family, and is also the longest-living vertebrate known (in fact, females are only sexually mature when they grow longer than 13 feet, which scientists believe takes 150 years to achieve). In Netherworld’s mini-bestiary it is described via ghostly whistles that start off just on the verge of audibility before gaining in strength, becoming a slow-moving howl that is perhaps descriptive of the creature itself. The shark’s life is a slow one, lasting for up to 400 years, swimming endlessly in the frigid waters of the Arctic. Nevertheless, the icy sweep of the drones here also describe a species of majesty, a kind of imperious movement befitting a creature that outlives many of the species it shares its environment with. ‘Orcinus Orca’ is also slow, but deeply imbued with a sense of mystery. Killer whales have been studied extensively, yet there are still many things that remain elusive about them. Cold tones combined with a crawling deep bass framework floating just below the surface somehow captures the essence of these highly sociable but predatory creatures. There’s even a sense of drama unfolding, as if a pod has been caught in the act of hunting, which they do cooperatively. Above all, we get the idea that, in spite of their looks, they are efficient hunters, and that it would be wise to avoid them.

‘Monodon Monoceros’ (Narwhals) seem to appear right out of some medieval bestiary, a creature of myth and legend whose horn gave rise to the legend of the unicorn. They’re curious creatures to be sure, but also possessed of a profound mystery, a biological curio that somehow defies the natural order of things. Netherworld’s rendering appears to reach out to us from some deep distance in time, perhaps to the youth of the world, with gentle, plangent tones, almost human in nature. It sets the hairs on the back of your neck to standing up, while a deep, deep rumbling can be heard, and felt, from time to time. This is deep time indeed, or so it seems, as well as a message from the depths of the ocean. Sonorous, magisterial, and deeply magical.

Finally, we get to ‘Ursus Maritimus’, the polar bear, perhaps the most iconic Arctic species of all, and also the one animal most associated with the fragile state of its habitat due to climate concerns. It is as much of a ghost these days as the ethereal Arctic Fox is that I mentioned above. It is majestic, a visible symbol of survival in a harsh climate, a fighter, and the creature that most people would recognise. The track itself is a beautiful aurorae of harmonics and shifting percussive shuffles, moving precariously just like the floating islets of sea ice the bears use to get around and hunt. One can imagine a bear sniffing the breeze, or staring up at the twinkly lights above, or gazing at the strange dancing lights as the chords float and drift. It’s a solitary existence, here at the end of the world, but it means a measure of freedom, which the animal innately understands even it can’t articulate it to itself.

One of the strongest things I got from listening to this, apart from revelling in the beauty of these far-flung lands, is that out of sight, out of mind. These creatures, this album seemed to be telling me, are living on borrowed time, but because we don’t see them (unless it’s on a TV screen) we forget about their plight. But it’s the very achingly beautiful vistas presented by these five pieces that should remind us that, while we live within four comfortable, warm walls, these wonderful and exotic creatures are perhaps heading for extinction, and once gone they’ll be gone for good. It’s sobering to think that even while I am sitting here typing these words, half a world away, there might be a polar bear wondering when (or if) it’s going to get its next meal. Behind the staggering beauty lies a sobering reality.

Available from October 18^th, it can be pre-ordered as a limited run CD in an edition of 300 from the Glacial Movements website:

http://www.glacialmovements.com/music-news/netherworld-algida-bellezza

or from their Bandcamp page (where there’s an ongoing special offer to get two Netherworld CDs for a special price):

https://glacialmovements.bandcamp.com/album/algida-bellezza

Psymon Marshall 2019. 

Line Spectrum - Bruma.

Album: Bruma

Artist: Line Spectrum

Label: Glacial Movements Records

Catalogue no: GM038

Tracklist:

     1.      A Set of Events at the Shore

     2.      Fabric Merge

     3.      Ways

     4.      Fluidity

     5.      Quietness

Italian label Glacial Movements Records have consistently released some prime examples of glacial ambient for over ten years now, and this latest recording from Ukrainian artist Oleg Puzan, working under the project title of Line Spectrum, only confirms that Alessandro Tedeschi knows what he’s about when it comes to picking the good stuff. Puzan deftly creates some cold, unreachable atmospherics, especially emphasising an element of these icy areas of the world that’s sometimes missing from glacial ambient: the indescribable and ineffable distance in time and space, and experience, that these isolated places represent. Imagination sometimes simply isn’t enough to encompass the reality of the Arctic/Antarctic regions. When I see a photo or video of a landscape belonging to either of these places, I imagine huge stretches of geography cocooned in vast silences.

But, like Bruma delineates, it isn’t like this at all. Beneath the seeming quietude, at frequencies below human threshold, there are tiny glitches and hums indicative of constant movement. These two ice-masses are continually communicating in a language that we humans barely understand (our current knowledge would be akin to knowing how to say ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, ‘please’, and ‘thank you’ in any non-native language). Right from the outset of ‘A Set of Events on the Shore’, amidst the predominant sounds of waves lapping a shoreline, winds, crackling glitches, deep seismic rumbles, and a persistent electronic whine alert the listener to the activity that goes on without our ever noticing. Expressing it in this way underscores the feeling that these are alien environments, domains where humans may feel unsettled or out of place.

‘Fabric Merge’ explores the theme further, beginning with hissing glitchiness under a crackling slab of grainy noise, accompanied once again with seismic movements and a whirring whine that snakes its way into one’s consciousness. It’s like mammoth chunks of ice shearing away, ice floes riding unseen oceanic currents, or subtle shifts in the mass beneath our feet. All the while winds whip around the body that, allied to the freezing cold, hampers movement and makes even the most minor action a struggle. ‘Ways’ only increases the sense of cold and isolation, spectral winds barrelling and roaring through bizarre tunnels carved out by nature, as is its wont, sounding like massive airways, perhaps supplying air to the lungs of the place’s ecosystem. ‘Fluidity’ begins with quiet low bass air currents, until bubbling water supersedes, a reminder perhaps that this whole ecosystem is composed of the liquid in solid form, and in that lies its hidden strength. If it were to melt for some reason…

And now we come to what is probably the heart of the ice-engulfed lands capping the north and south poles – the sheer ‘Quietness’ that exists here. Yes, there are still those minute cracks, drones, and whines of activity going on (along with a ghostly voice) but on a much smaller scale, perhaps because we are standing at its centre, the axis about which everything revolves. Whichever way you stand, you are looking south/north depending on your location. From here you can only go down or up. It must be an eerie experience to know that when you are, indeed, standing at either the north or south poles.

Full of cold, isolationist, and freezing glacial ambient, it is nevertheless a paean to a side of these two regions we don’t often think about. The notion that silence possesses weight, a physical presence that can be felt, that can be interpreted as either welcoming or oppressive, or indeed both simultaneously in a weird kind of Schrödingerian fashion. It’s almost as if by freezing the land and water, sound has also been frozen and left hanging. Above all else, I felt a deep solitude, a detachment and displacement, as if I was no longer part of the world. And, knowing of my own predilection for remote parts of the world, it sang to my soul. And that’s a strange feeling to experience whilst sitting in a warm room in a temperate zone.

Out now, available as a download and CD in 6-panel digipak with special finish in an edition of 200. If you, like me, prefer your ambient cold, distant, and quietly but massively expressive, then I suggest you purchase from either Glacial Movements Records:

http://www.glacialmovements.com/music-news/line-spectrum-bruma

Or via Bandcamp:

https://glacialmovements.bandcamp.com/album/bruma

Psymon Marshall 2019.