closing. - VI

A Closer Listen

Upon seeing Daniel Crokaert’s cover art for VI, one thing is abundantly clear: this is the most bleached image in the extensive Unfathomless discography.  The shades bring to mind whitewashed walls and whale bones, the release number U91 blending into the center left hues, the strong yet lower-case title – closing. period included, direct center.

VI follows suit: smudged, abraded, time-worn.  These recordings were originally captured in the “empty spaces of theaters, arenas, hotels, cities and airports,” transferred to cassette, slowed to a crawl and blended into a sonic morass.  At various times, one can hear – or thinks one can hear – motors, helicopters, trains passing through tunnels, AC units and sullen wind. The original sources are blurred; the artist – Patrick Scott – is obscured as well.  Yet there is also a byproduct of such recordings, a gathering of ghosts. The music is more than the sum of its parts.  As “stumbling past the mumblers” moves from dark ambient to drone, one senses the accumulation not only of sound, but of experience.

Scott writes that “purity isn’t real.”  Even Ivory Soap once advertised that it was 99 44/100% pure.  There is always some manner of grain, or detritus, or grit.  When it comes to sound, the recordist becomes part of the process; the scientific observer becomes part of the observation.  Abandoning any effort at sonic purity, closing. instead finds what one might call a purity of tone, a white hush over the world, a curtain drawn over the ears, an ozone layer of sound.

Within such a framework, one begins to detect patterns and shapes, more than simple apophenia.  The rub is the definition of the recording spaces as “empty,” when the amalgamated sound is as full as it can be.  Whether “silence” is amplified or small sounds are made large, VI exposes their adhesive frequencies.  The most musical piece, “hollowed,” allows space for individual tones to dominate, and finally to join forces in the world’s slowest concert, looping like Basinski.

VI is more impression than entertainment.  One can hear the “suspended animation,”although in the same manner as there is no real purity, there is no real suspension.  Everything is always in motion, and even here, in sluggish fashion, the sounds are moving forward, struggling to reach their edges.  It is no surprise that the final sounds imitate breath: although captured and tamed, these recordings still teem with life.  (Richard Allen)