A Closer Listen
Since 2017, the record label Aspen Edities has been harboring a group of (mostly) Belgians who don’t seem to put much stake in “genre”. On the one hand, the label’s most recent release, a surging, nearly abrasive, exploration of speaker-vibrated drumheads by the Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach. On the other, the lukewarm, jazz-infused pseudo-folk of the label’s Op. 1, mono no aware (to which Zach adds much of the interest). Suffice it to say that, in a series of more-or-less successful installments, Aspen Edities has claimed a new aesthetic niche for itself, one that occasionally spits out a unique and thought-provoking gem.
Nestled squarely within this milieu is Poor Isa, a (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) banjo and woodblock duo consisting of Frederik Leroux and one of the masterminds behind the label, Ruben Machtelinckx. As far as I’m concerned, the instrumentation alone gives this project its raison d’être: who else is doing this? Add to the mix not just the plucky, twangy banjo we all know and love, but prepared banjo? Banjo with EBows ? We’ve got a recipe for success, folks.
Still, how does it sound? Poor Isa’s 2019 debut, let’s drink the sea and dance, was (despite its upbeat title and colorfully cartoonish cover) a remarkably esoteric series of aphorisms suggesting the restraint and focus of two career improvisers. On their newest release, dissolution of the other, the duo opts for two longer-form, composed works that express, in some sense, the duality of the Aspen Edities sound.
The first piece, “figures”, leans more towards the “folk” side of the label’s niche. Beginning with a slowly unfolding banjo passacaglia that brings to mind the modal stylings of the Japanese koto or a troubadour song without words, the track gradually enters a slow build and is sprinkled with a healthy dose of woodblocks. Despite its air of mystery, “figures” is saved from being overly earnest by its patience, the never-ending variety of its ornamental flourishes, and its unexpected climax. Above all, though, it is saved by those sprightly little woodblocks, who manage to push this track just outside the box.
The second piece, “drifter”, is where things really get interesting. Mixed in with sporadic flurries of woodblocks are the metallic resonances of a prepared banjo, and the two blend remarkably well. After about six minutes of relative stasis, harmonium-esque drones completely takeover, accompanied by a quiet, breathy melodic lilt that sounds like someone bowing a wine glass. Then, a brittle, dissonant strumming enters to round out the texture of an unexpected B section. This is the good stuff. Delicate yet strong, relentless yet restrained. No melodrama, no fluff. Just layers of sound that, in their relative simplicity and lack of narrative arc, suggest something much more mysterious than a modal banjo duet. Stay this course, and Poor Isa could become Aspen Edities crowning jewel. (Peter Tracy)
Available here (with sound samples)
Thu Aug 31 00:01:00 GMT 2023