Singular, to say the least, record from Firmaet Forvoksen, a duo of Norwegians playing strange and alienating music on Undone Shal (KRAAK K116).
Gaute Granli is one of them, a fellow who’s been consistently addling the collective pate of the world with his antics from Stavanger, for instance in groups Freddy The Dyke or Skadne Krek as well as his own demented solo efforts. I’ve tended to associate him with wild, unkempt noise attacks, a genre not entirely unknown in Stavanger (e.g. the Drid Machine label, Kjetil D Brandsdal and his hearty swipes at avant-metal, the living junk creations of Sindre Bjerga, the many madcap loons of Horacio Pollard), but none of that on today’s record, as we may come to mention later. The other half of the Firmaet operation is Thore Warland, who has drummed with Kjetil and appeared on a horrifying split seven-inch with Pollard from Le Petit Mignon…we’ve also heard him in Golden Oriole, and in Staer, a trio who are determined to turn flailing free-rock into a new art form on their own terms. None of these hints apply to today’s oddity, for which no human brain can be fully prepared; someone has kindly hammered some signposts into the ground, one of them pointing towards “psychedelic”, the other marked “outsider”, but we’re still lost. I think the music here is made with electric guitars, synths, and percussion…and some ghastly vocal wailings by the pair, and they’ve deliberately worked very hard to create an erratic, formless and disconnected effect. This isn’t to say the sounds they make are unpleasant, but the method of performance is what’s important, bordering on the unhinged, as if produced by men who are mentally ill, or perhaps physically stricken with a weird viral disease. Even so, musical phrases – such as they are, emerging clipped and broken, in formless bursts – still manage to cohere into something the rest of us can engage with. I want to say they’re playing in a private language, though that might not be quite right, and at least one song here on the B side seems to be created by a possessed soul talking in tongues and inventing polyglot syllables, yet maybe they’re actually just singing in Norwegian.
In case it’s not clear, I favour this very much; at least two reasons for my satisfaction can be discerned. One is that there’s a sense of genuine experimentation; the duo realise they’re trying something new, and they might fall on their noses, but they don’t care. Each tentative step is documented in real time and published for us here, in the interests of transparency. Often, I feel so-called “experimental” music is performed by players presenting a foregone conclusion, proving a point about something they already know. Conversely, Firmaet Forvoksen are audibly puzzled, shrugging their shoulders as they wrestle with their problem, yet still hoping we will follow them on their quest. Second reason is something to do with noise, or a distinct lack of it; rather than hide behind feedback, distortion, loud volume, and the other five things, Firmaet Forvoksen pluck their notes, wail their plaint and depress their plastic keys with deliberation, and slowness. It doesn’t give them – or us – much wriggle-room as the bizarre pieces unfold into the ether, but it may indicate they’re very sincere about what they’re doing. The slowness will also probably lead many listeners to discard this duo as a couple of inept bumpkins, fumbling about in some ill-defined musical zone of competence several notches below The Shaggs, even. But they’d be wholly wrong.
Now I seem to be recalling a third half-formed point from my noggin about the American bands from 20 years ago who were yoked under the “New Weird America” canard, but Firmaet Forvoksen are not only casting off their moorings from any semblance of “rock” moves, they’re occupying their own unique corner of turf in this part of Norway. This has led the record label to align them with Kramp, Ignatz, Red Brut and Calhaul. Very recommended. From 28 November 2022.