A Closer Listen
Relative Schoensein 2 is a beautiful sequel with a philosophical backdrop. The collection asks the question, “Are advertisements information or manipulation?” The answer, of course, is both. But if the answer from Adventurous Music is said to lean in one direction, it is toward the latter, as evidenced in some of the track titles: “Brainwash,” “You Want Things That Tell You Exactly What You Really Are,” “There Are No Gods, Only Commerce,” “Deceptive Tactics,” “Beggars Can’t Be Choosers But Entitled Consumers Can Be.” Advertisements have their own intrinsic appeal, often separate from the goal of selling the product; but there is no secret to the fact that they are manipulative. Sex is used to sell everything from cars to beauty products; children are “groomed” by cartoon characters on adult products; phrases such as “You have to have it” and “You deserve it” are bandied about with aplomb. Advertisements sell not only products, but dreams, and the swift rush of serotonin that arrives at the moment of purchase may or may not be matched by the experience of the actual product.
The German artist Signalstoerung writes that he often finds subjects beautiful that are not regarded in the same way by the general population. His subjects in the accompanying book are abraded, layered and torn marketing posters, a history of temptation papered over temptation, years of sirens calling from two-dimensional surfaces. One of these images, reproduced below, announces the number 45. The number brings to mind Colt 45 (the beer), the other Colt 45 (the gun), and of course the swiftly-spinning miniature record. But the number actually refers to the number of artists on the album: 44 artists, 45 tracks.
Despite the plethora of talent on display, the overall tone can best be described as bleak. The majority of these tracks sound like the photos: dark, distorted, cobbled together in a dimly-lit alley. Voices wander in and out of the mix like distracted consumers. Sine waves rise and fall; abraded textures peel like lacquered paint. Some also bear an industrial tint, suited to the impersonal nature of cities; Andreas David’s “Ein Riss in Der Zeit” holds dark chords over crunchy beats, producing an aura of foreboding. The distortion is akin to that of truth in advertising; will the product on display actually make one happier? Is it wrong to make such a claim, or is it common knowledge that the claim is inflated? Will the burger ever look like the photo? Jóhann Eiriksson’s “End of Print” is another stormer, a whirlwind of beats and textures that honors and bemoans in equal measure. The end of print is not the end of advertising, but it is the end of an era.
The lethargy of some pieces is intentional. Andrew Burge writes that his “slowly evolving electronic piece” is “an antidote … to the advertisement complex that tells us we want more and more.” Gail Priest’s “Sky Signs” refers to the floating billboards of Ridley Scott’s “Bladerunner.” Gallery Six writes of deleting social media accounts, perhaps producing calmer music as a result. MAU celebrates a “vast, indeterminate space, while Multipolar investigates the “eco-dystopian imagination” run rampant in a world of uncertainty. Advertisement seeks to cut through this uncertainty, offering consumers something they can rely on; this too, is like chasing the wind. WXR_JR provides one of the album’s clearest statements: “After watching an advertisement of a new so-called environmentally friendly car I asked myself why on earth I should need a new car. And then I knew why: because my inner voice is cheating on me again.”
BMH’s “Bird Sex Calls” is the set’s most unusual piece, recorded in “a tunnel where birds probably wouldn’t want to get laid.” Birds, people and cavernous textures mingle in a claustrophobic manner. In an amusing section, a narrator actually repeats the words of the title! The birds of Gallery Six’s “Through the Ages of Time” are more sedate (probably because they are not in a tunnel), and the placid nature of the piece is an invitation to be involved in the now without ruminating about the past or fantasizing about the future. Kilmarth’s “To Expose the Truth” is a rare ray of sunshine, mingling electronics and modern composition, a triumph of muckraking and exposure. In like manner, “The Happy Side of Grief” sounds just like one might expect: subdued, yet positive, a blanket of electronic cheer provided by Payta. Occasionally the compilation descends into outright noise, a rage against the machine, most apparent in the closing half of Quatrefoil’s “Focus Group Is On Fire.” In this case, the listener can imagine the inferno.
Would it be informational to state that Relatives Schoensein 2 is published in a limited edition, or that potential buyers should order now to keep from missing out? Or would it be manipulative? We’ll let our readers decide. (Richard Allen)
Available here
Fri Nov 10 00:01:52 GMT 2023