GERMANY RASTER-NOTON R-N 151 CD (2013)
More masterful manoeuvring through interstitial zones of perennial instability where explosive power is condensed into potential energy and refashioned into new refinements of Emptyset’s unmistakeable dystopian techno. Even the introduction section – so commonly the dilettante’s excuse for a lie-in – affects Poseidon’s shockwave stride across a sandpaper beach. But belabouring neither the science nor the scientism behind such feats, the pair pares down all data to the point of obliqueness and lets the music do the stalking.
‘Recur’ alludes both to an impersonality – that of a natural occurrence – and elements of Emptyset’s MO: their return to Raster Noton (and to form) after their Collapsed 12” for the label in 2012, as well as the increasingly divergent orbit of their off-kilter tempos: perpetual rhythmic derailment by great white noise blasts; the tug of super-gravity on the radiant thrum of nightmare factories. The sonic possibilities may not be endless, but destructive ones are. Plus it sounds fantastic when the paper shredder’s going.
Quite averse to re-inhabiting a familiar coordinate, the hull-breaching heard hitherto is hinted at here as part of an upwardly mobile theme and variation exercise: ‘Fragment’ – to choose just once – makes this clear through the application of alternating modalities to their signature arrhythmic bursts. You may think you’ve heard this before, but listen more closely. One clear and significant differential to earlier work appears when Recur is weighed against their earlier LP, Medium, with power accruing unequivocally to the newcomer. This provides optimism for the power-up potential of future releases: (as scarcely imaginable as is that that their work could permit further refinement) which could assume increasingly diminutive proportions as Emptyset’s craft approaches singularity state.
POLAND MONOTYPE RECORDS MONO072 CD (2014)
Initial impressions of Polish sound artist Marcin Dymiter’s Emiter project were of Emptyset steamrolled to a steaming hiss; mechanised rhythms forsaken for more organic emanations: misshapen bulbs and tendrils sprouting from shocks of black gas that unbalance and subsume the unwary over the course of four extended pieces; the sum truly towering over the mire of so much whine-fed peer work.
I was quickly surprised to learn that Dymiter also purveys post-rock plangency as Niski Szum, whose maudlin marathon of many dour landscapes: Siedem Piesni Miejskich, I recently enjoyed reviewing. Though the sad guitar is stored in case for the time being, Air – Field – Feedback expresses a similarly peripatetic spirit: drawing the listener through subtly differing phases of the night sky, which is liable to erupt in sudden chaotic events (the titular ‘feedback’ in other words) to distract the ear from more subtle tonal changes that signal transition. The listener might not even notice for minutes at a time the extent of their drift from their last known location.
Emiter’s sources are the traditional elements: wind and sea being two components in this meteorological tapestry of varied quality recordings that interact aloofly; remaining crisp and distinct amid a climate that alternates between beatific and brutally clear. As is his wont, Dymiter carefully adorns all this with electronic pulses, textures, clippings, cuttings, blasts, drones and surging whines; adding up to an even signal-to-noise ratio and a relaxing listen that will still prevent passivity.