Aho Ssan - Rhizomes

A Closer Listen

This is the sound of music’s future: collaborative, cross-cultural and genre-fluid.  On Rhizomes, Aho Ssan (Niamké Désiré) touches upon six of our seven genre categories (leaving out only field recordings), while sounding wholly original.  The set spins like a whirlwind, constantly moving and morphing, and it has no fixed form.  The publicly streaming version contains ten tracks, the QR code edition thirteen, including three exclusive and two expanded pieces, plus a sample pack from Aho Ssan and solo works from many of the collaborators. The book extends branches in another direction, introducing its own symbol-based language.  The AV show, debuting at Unsound Berlin, promises even more.  The artist’s musical rhizome is alive and growing.

Even before hearing a single note, we were stunned by the quality of the collaborators, many of whom have featured prominently on our pages:  KMRU, Resina, 9t Antiope, Nyokabi Kariũki, Rắn Cạp Đuôi and so many more: musicians who on their own have been pushing music forward, now gathered in one place.  Aho Ssan previously released Limen with KMRU, one of our top albums of last year, and Simulacrum was one of our top electronic releases of 2020, but the subsequent leap into brilliance here is unprecedented.  Perhaps growing up Black in a French suburb opened the composer’s ears to new blends of flavors, but even so, Rhizomes is a remarkable achievement, whose only downside is also part of its appeal: that so much of the music is hidden from the general public, revealed only to those who seek.

The album begins and ends with Nyokabi Kariũki, which lends Rhizomes a wraparound effect, a comforting touch considering the mutable nature of the internal contents.  The overture delivers a sense of growing tension, while the epilogue eases down.  Then it’s Blackhaine’s turn to shine with “Cold Summer Part I” (which grows into an unlisted Parts 2 and 3).  This form of rap, which will continue through other artists later in the set, remembers The Last Poets more than any modern incarnation, words not necessarily connected to beats, beats far from their hip-hop homes.  The track echoes a journey through Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso in an urban environment, even including a Catholic namecheck.  “Til The Sun Down” is another revelation, as few others would ever think of inviting clipping. and Resina to participate on the same track.  This is the genius of Aho Ssan, seeing potential connections where none yet exist.  By the time the track hits its most powerful couplet, “Now why he pull the gun out / Run away run away,” the tone has turned from angry to soul-crushing, with echoes of Black Lives Matter and the violence inflicted on people of color.  The backdrop shifts from drone to industrial, the menace palpable, but not from from the performer, but for the performer.  This industrial connection will continue across instrumental stormers “Tetsuo I & II,” the title seeming to reference the vast destruction of Akira.

Death stalks the streets of “Hero Once Been,” borne by the voice of 9T Antiope relaying another horror tale, its dark underbelly exposed.  The music is sinister: lurking, stalking, waiting to strike.  When the protagonist’s voice turns pure, the song becomes an elegy, backed by choirs.  Shattered, thousands of pieces scattered.  In “Rhizome IV,” the denouement tilts the album out of despair and disillusionment.  Let it all in / The winds of change / The waves of compassion / Let the spirits guide us back to ourselves.  Static charges erupt around mournful violins.

After “Rhizome IV,” it’s fair to ask where the other three parts are buried.  Parts I and II can be found on the extended edition, the first featuring Josefa Ntjam, the second featuring Lafawndah, each track approaching nine minutes in length, lyric-less adventures in texture and mood.  The first part boasts wild saxophone amidst drone and choral filaments.  When the brass fades, the explosions begin; when the explosions fade, the brass reenters.  The second picks up the thread, awash in percussion, strings and synth, building wailing walls of sound.  The other bonus track, “Memoria (feat. Rắn Cạp Đuôi & Richie Culver)”, offers a mitigating phrase that eases the pain of the pieces around it:  “You don’t need to be strong / You can cry in my arms.”

One of the extended pieces, “Away,” adds more than a minute; the other, “La Tremblement,” more than doubles its length.  In all, the extended version of the album (not counting the solo works or sample pack) tops out at just under 80 minutes, half an hour longer than the digital version.  And nothing is disposable.  Like its namesake, Rhizomes may continue to grow (for example, we have yet to hear “Rhizome III”).  The connections between performers may sprout further branches, splices, and hybrid musical forms.

Every aspect of Aho Ssan’s project, from the composition to the performance to the presentation, is immaculate.  Rhizomes is the most exciting album on the market right now, with the potential to be the most influential.  With any hope, it will spark a revolution.  (Richard Allen)

The Quietus

The notion of what form the music of the future might take has long been an inspired discussion point. Whether it’s Charles Fourier, Luigi Russolo, Jacques Attali, François J. Bonnet (who appears here as Kassel Jaeger), or tQ’s own Robert Barry, reams have been written about what the music of the future might sound like and also how it could be created and distributed.

Current industry types feel that the future lies with sync deals: getting artists’ music onto TV shows, adverts, films, and video games. Others are more concerned with digital spaces, where acts perform on Fortnite Live, become part of the metaverse, or sell their wares for non-fungible tokens via Web3. And I won’t even attempt to grapple with the thorny issue of AI in this brief review.

Some musicians, however, are taking a more collaborative approach. Think of Damo Suzuki asking support acts to fill in as his backing band for the night, The Boredoms with their 111 drummer orchestra, Rhys Chatham’s pieces for 200 guitarists, or Sly & The Family Drone dishing out drums, encouraging their audience to join in with the rumpus. Even global house music sensation Avicii invited a small army of fans and producers to contribute to his Avicii x You project. Much like these efforts to push music forward in a collective sense, Aho Ssan is forging his own path.

Rhizomes is unlike most records. It can be experienced as a standard ten-track release or there’s the option to descend further into the undergrowth and discover recordings otherwise unavailable. Hidden tracks, extended editions and solo pieces await the inquisitive and you can even participate in the creative process yourself through the provided sample pack. The focus of this release is community. Growing and strengthening it. Like its title, Rhizomes is the underground stalk from which roots and shoots grow.

So, what does it sound like? Unsurprisingly, like the future. ‘Tetsuo I’ is fittingly formed of metal fragments and industrious digital tinkering, as if Fennesz had mistakenly dropped his stems into a blender. The synths are corrupted and destroyed. Fizzing sprites and burgeoning electronic undulations warm the headspace beneath 9T Antiope’s mechanical voice on ‘Hero Once Been’. A golden, hopeful tone emerges, unshackling her vocals, transforming them into a luscious full-bodied ascent.

‘Rhizome IV’ finds Moor Mother in spiritual healer mode, preaching over the top of a sparking fusebox, asking “Can you hear? Are you listening?”. Whereas ‘Cold Summer’, its title whisper-shouted by Blackhaine, takes a more introspective approach as Ssan crafts a violent, disturbed, and confusing soundscape.

Whilst coils of eerie samples and shuddering static swamp ‘Le Tremblement’, it’s a slew of explosive drums and twittering electronics which form the combustive, claustrophobic cloud of ‘Till The Sun Down’. Resina’s bow drags across gnarled strings. Snares pop like gats. Squeaks and shrieks of melody gasp as Daveed Diggs spits spine-chilling verses. Cascading voluminous static and ire-laden, erratic beats engulf those trembling strings, forcing a heartbreaking symphony to rupture through the distortion.

What Aho Ssan and his accomplices (and they are legion – we also get Valentina Magaletti, Nicolás Jaar, Angel Bat Dawid, Nyokabi Kariũki, Lafawndah, KMRU, Richie Culver, and that’s barely the iceberg’s tip) have achieved here is a global community interacting, inspiring, and collaborating across borders, across timezones, across cultural divides. And why should it stop once the fruits of their labour has passed out into the world? Rhizomes provides like-minded creators with the tools to expand upon its foundations.

Without collaboration we’d likely end up with what Attali once described as “music produced by each individual for himself, for pleasure outside of meaning, usage, and exchange” which might work for some but is insularity really the best future that we can envision? Aho Ssan and his proliferating participators don’t seem to agree.

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Resident Advisor