Oren Ambarchi - Simian Angel

The Quietus

Oren Ambarchi is something of a globetrotting underground music superstar, a voracious polymath who appears capable of mastering any instrument and at home in any genre. Indeed, his ability to turn his hand to anything from black metal noise to jazz drumming via ambient electronics and Fennesz-like guitar stylings makes him a one-man incarnation of everything exciting that’s going on in experimental music right now. The names of his collaborators alone read like a who’s who of the great and the good of experimental music: Peter Rehberg, Charlemagne Palestine, Jim O’Rourke, Keiji Haino, SUNN O))), Sam Shalabi… the list goes on and on. Ambarchi’s solo output only enhances this enigmatic multi-facity: his album’s are always fascinating, often beautiful but rarely reveal much of the man behind them. Which is just the way he likes it.

Initially, Simian Angel seems to be an ambient record, in line with his Grapes from the Estate album. But repeated listens reveal surprising byways and nooks and crannies. I had to do a double-take on the press release to be sure that what I was hearing was a guitar, such is the way in which the vaporous drones that form the album’s core, especially on the first track ‘Palm Sugar Candy’, sound like they were produced on a synthesizer. But no, Ambarchi is playing the guitar. His lines are extended and overlapped, shimmering glaciers of fragile tones that evoke the solo work of Ash Ra Tempel’s Manuel Göttsching on his seminal Inventions for Electric Guitar. It’s a clean, crisp sound but also one that evokes mystery and dreamlike states. Set against this is the muted percussion of Brazilian drummer Cyro Baptista, a gentle pattering that somehow manages to sound bizarre and exotic.

Ambarchi has long expressed his love for Brazilian music but do not expect any overt references to tropicalia on Simian Angel. ‘Palm Sugar Candy’ instead builds gently, edging slowly towards a pay-off that remains elusive. Ambarchi’s organ-like guitar drones swirl around meandering percussive interjections from Baptista and muttered vocal utterances. It feels like a more minimal take on the Berlin school of Klaus Schulze circa Moondawn but with the tension and sci-fi flourishes reined in to leave a widescreen abstract canvas.

In comparison, the title track (also side-long) is almost a riot of textures and dynamics. Its opening segment features raucous strumming of the berimbau, a Brazilian bowed instrument, while Baptista is allowed to display the range of his supple percussive brilliance. Gradually the piece breaks down into a minimal, fractured piano melody supported by scratchy, barely-perceptible electronics. That organ-like guitar resurfaces and the piano dissolves slowly into a certain formlessness, a nod to Ambarchi’s experience of free improv, but supported by a steady rhythmic pulse. Certain passages evoke Popol Vuh or Cluster (for all the Brazilian flourishes, Simian Angel feels quite German) while others bring to mind avant-garde composers like Robert Ashley or Laurie Spiegel. All this is created seamlessly, the parts fusing into one another to create a vivid, if mysterious, tapestry.

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Fri Aug 09 09:11:13 GMT 2019

The Free Jazz Collective 80

By Kian Banihashemi

A continuation of Oren Ambarchi's work on the Editions Mego record label, Simian Angel takes a pleasant detour from the more recent path the Australian musician has traveled. Even then it's no surprise that Ambarchi would collaborate with Cyro Baptista; the Brazilian percussionist who maintains a rich and vital role within the "Downtown" scene in New York. Both musicians have a definite knack for collaboration, with a long history of Mycorrhizal network style interaction with musicians from all types of artistic and cultural backgrounds. In other words, the influence and collaborations have proven to be mutually beneficial for whoever is involved. For Ambarchi, the music in its physical form is an important aspect to consider. As a fellow lover of the record format I appreciate the reissuing of groundbreaking works on his Black Truffle label as well as the attention to detail he puts into design of each album. In a way, this music has become singular and unique through its blending of various bits and pieces. In this case it's Brazilian chants and percussion arranged with dreamy ambient atmospheres created from Ambarchi's guitar playing.

Simian Angel almost follows in the footsteps of the musical idea of the Fourth World which was pioneered by Jon Hassell. But rather than just borrowing techniques and instruments from different cultures, Ambarchi's influences render themselves into a single gripping statement that develop over the course of time. He plays around with this vital element of time, with most songs being longer than ten minutes. Ambarchi's music has thrived in this format of musical exploration, and it's clear that he works with a drive and precision that is incomparable. The album is composed of just two side-long pieces, "Palm Sugar Candy" and the self-titled "Simian Angel". Both explore using similar instrumentation, yet these pieces create two very different atmospheres within their fifteen to twenty minute run time. Not only does this release delve into new terrain, but it recalls the organic beauty of a release such as Grapes from the Estate.

"Palm Sugar Candy" immediately portrays a mood of yearning, with a spacey ambiance that is seldom heard in the Ambarchi catalog. I'm dropped back down to Earth only a few minutes later as Baptista's whispered words and shaking instrumentation make their way to the forefront. There's a pivotal change around seven minutes and forty five seconds during which the drone drops and percussive pace increases. During this latter half, I feel completely submerged in warm, tropical waters. Although intimidating at first, the track concludes with a sustained tranquility that is hard to match. The instrumentation on this album is frequently hard to pin down, leading me to feel a childlike sense of wonder. The music stands as is, even the context for instruments used is hidden. Ambarchi is credited with playing "guitars & whatnot" and Baptista is simply "percussion & voice".

I am almost certain however that the beginning segment of the song "Simian Angel" is the Brazilian berimbau played by Baptista. This single-stringed percussive instrument provides a metallic twang that roots the twenty-minute excursion. The improvisational playing of such an instrument evokes the specific atmosphere associated with musicians like Naná Vasconcelos on the ECM label. While the berimbau disappears, a new trail has been uncovered which leads to earthy, meditative keyboard playing. Baptista takes a step back but returns with shaking percussion, maintaining a steady rhythm along with a sweeping drone line. This establishes an aural environment much like a river, with the keyboard blurbs assuming the role of small pebbles splashing in the stream of sound. Much like "Palm Sugar Candy", there's an underlying peacefulness that resides deep within the fibers of the music. This is quite the unorthodox summertime album, yet the tan tennis court and aqua background invoke shallow, sandy beaches in Brazil. Ideally, I'd be listening to this with headphones on and staring out into the open ocean. For already established fans of Oren Ambarchi, Simian Angel serves as a refreshing, undiscovered side of his music. For those unfamiliar with him or this style of music, I couldn't think of a better place to start.

Tue Oct 01 04:00:00 GMT 2019

Pitchfork 75

The Australian multi-instrumentalist pushes his wispy electroacoustic music into warmer, more melodic territory.

Mon Jul 08 05:00:00 GMT 2019