Başak Günak - Rewilding

A Closer Listen

Those familiar with the work of Başak Günak as Ah! Cosmos may be caught slightly off guard by the sound of Rewilding, which eschews beats in favor of intricate textures.  But there have always been other influences in Günak’s productions, for example Büşra Kayıkçı’s guest piano on “Things We Miss, People We Lose,” from Bluets, an album that also incorporates field recordings from the artist’s Istanbul birthplace.  Her approach to Rewilding is described as “foraging,” which is also the name of the lead single: the search for intriguing sounds no matter what their genesis. Three tracks originated as sound installations. 

The static rustle of opening track “Canon Bee” is like that of leaves underfoot; or is the association merely because autumn is coming?  Bass notes and sparse percussion makes one think of a club track, especially as the piece picks up the pace; but it’s still too slow to dance to, unless one is in a theatre production.  This time out, the artist is encouraging active listening.  The title track incorporates bass clarinet and breath.  And in the aforementioned “Foraging,” the artist’s voice begins in layers of hum and drone before hums turn into whispers and whispers into words.

Throughout the set, sounds accumulate and decay.  In “Wings,” chimes cede space to mechanical timbres, including percussion like slow factory hammers.  The clanking and claustrophobia are akin to the dark ambience of Raison D’être, extended on the patient “Porous,” whose flutters and drones suggest a moth flittering around a florescent light.  This all leads up to the album’s longest and most ambitious piece, the eleven-minute “Swamp.”  After whistling through “Inside,” Günak proves that she’s not afraid of the dark, the morass, the shadowed spaces.  Instead, she embraces their allure.  The piano may be broken, but it still makes sounds; the halldrophone buckles, but does not break.  Amazingly, as “Swamp” develops, it demonstrates a higher level of comfort, an acclimation to the darkness that sounds surprisingly like light.  When Günak begins whistling again, she’s no longer challenging the shadows, but playing in their midst.

It’s rare for an artist to release effective albums in multiple genres, but this is exactly what Günak has accomplished here.  One is hard-pressed to conclude which has the greater appeal.  Fortunately we don’t have to choose; nor do we feel that the artist is limited to only two genres.  An appearance on next month’s Cybernetics, or Ghosts?, also on Subtext, will only increase our appreciation of her range.  (Richard Allen)