Six Organs of Admittance - Hexadic II
Pitchfork 78
Several years ago, after tiring of the predictable patterns he sensed himself settling into as a guitar player, Ben Chasny of Six Organs of Admittance decided to design a theoretical framework that would force his hands into different positions. Chasny distributed a deck of poker cards in a circular array of sets of six, corresponding to the notes of the guitar. The relative positions of the cards gave Chasny a "tonal field" in which to operate, as well as a set of notes from which to pick, some indication of time and tempo, and lyrical rules for the songs themselves.
Though Chasny describes it as a "caveman" appropriation of similar constructs by Anthony Braxton and John Cage, it is involved and elaborate enough to prompt a book, The Hexadic System, published by Drag City this year. And February's Hexadic, his public debut with the system, felt like an attempt to declare its formidable nature. Showcasing the scope of the system felt as important as the songs. Unapologetically loud and aggressive, with more than a whiff of hardline Japanese psych, it was an extreme indoctrination into a new approach. Recorded with a fully loaded quartet, the largely instrumental Hexadic was not for the faint of heart or those accustomed to Chasny’s softer side.
For Hexadic II, though, Chasny used the same results of the system to create new solo versions of the songs. He swapped the electric for the acoustic, added soft murmurs of harmonium and electronics and strings, and sang on almost all of the songs. The output gives the Hexadic System a new patina of accessibility. On the penultimate track "Vile Hell", Chasny jumps between notes at unexpected angles, sounding like Derek Bailey in a windstorm, before he stops playing altogether. He lets a faint, luminous drone linger until it spills over into "Poor Guild", the record’s gorgeous finale. Violinist Jen Gelineau matches the drone’s tone, and Chasny picks his way through it. In a keening falsetto, he offers a series of elliptical, evocative phrases—"tiny excess/ eye maligned/ depict, transfix." It is the most purely pretty moment in Chasny’s enormous catalogue, the sight of an early bloom, opening slowly after an arduous winter.
The nine tracks on Hexadic II follow the same order as their Hexadic counterparts, and careful, comparative listening does reveal analogous aspects. It’s more rewarding, though, to consider the differences, or to take the sets as entirely separate products of the same process. The disparity shows just how far Chasny may be able to take an idea still in its early stages of execution. Where "Wax Chance" was a diabolical, noise-soaked dirge, "Exultation Wave" is an exquisite gallop, with multiple guitar lines and multi-tracked vocals suggesting the density of the earlier work without trying to match it. Likewise, the two-minutes of no-wave roar from "Maximum Hexadic" unfurl here into eight minutes of circular picking and ghastly vocals for "Anyone’s Dawn". Chasny’s playing invokes the same Middle Eastern influences that Sir Richard Bishop has often conjured, while his singing recalls the fragile coo of Richard Youngs. What was shocking is now sublime.
In that way, the Hexadic System feels like a prism for Chasny, able to draw different elements of his influences and approach based on the input and circumstances. The results are novel and approachable, a combination that enables Chasny to transcend the examples of Cage and Braxton, at least in execution. Despite the complexity of the system that produced Hexadic II, the songs and sounds measure up to the setup itself.
Fri May 27 00:00:00 GMT 2016The Quietus 0
With his Hexadic works, Ben Chasny has been making bold attempts to move away from the hermetically-crafted, multifaceted sound usually cultivated under his Six Organs moniker. Though always exploratory, there was certainly an element of cosiness around his spiritual acid-folk, from its grounding in exquisite open-tuned guitar figures to his use of anchoring, immersive drones. Hexadic, and now Hexadic II find him cast completely adrift from such moorings, with Chasny now relying on a self-developed, card-based aleatoric compositional system to create the notes and phrasings for the albums. However, fascinating though these methods are, as listeners all we can really take away from an album is how it moves us. And in the case of Hexadic II, that is strangely, almost subliminally, but nevertheless powerfully.
The feeling of the subliminal is hard to avoid in Hexadic II. Rather than the precise and exacting sound one might expect from systems music, we get tumbling, convoluted compositions possessing all the dead-end irrationality of dream logic. The way that Chasny's multi-tracked vocals float in and out of the mix on tracks like 'Anyone's Dawn' (with lyrics also composed using the aleatoric system) makes it sound as if the vocals are backward-masked, as if delivering occult messages à la 'Stairway To Heaven'. A harmonium drone hovers at the edge of hearing as vocal murmurs drift on in the background, whilst Chasny's arachnoid guitar figures tumble over each other. All this would feel like mere systematic intellectualism were it not for the deeply strange emotional resonance the piece inspires - though conceptually impenetrable, 'Anyone's Dawn' expresses an almost penitential sadness.
The singer-songwriter paradigm is Chasny's Trojan Horse on Hexadic II. The disquieting nature of these tracks has a lot to do with his decision to work with the folk singer-esque guitar and vocal format. It's a lot easier to accept flagrant atonality when emitting from the reeds of a troupe of feral free jazzers or a group of Japanese destructo-rockers. On Hexadic II however, things feel too close for comfort; Chasny's vocal incantations murmur treacherously and the angular acoustic guitar phrases seem to crawl up your neck. It's clear that there is a heavy intension here to disconcent, as can be seen from the way that flutterings of electro-static worm through the alien blues of 'Arm their Rows', or the way that the conventional, mantra-like psych-folk of 'Wasp Code' is brutally undercut by the outspoken dissonance of 'Burial Empty Found'. Just take a look at those track titles: 'Fear Havoc Night', 'Vile Hell'. Though amorphous and only vaguely realised, there is a definite sense of dread throughout this work.
At times the album becomes a little difficult to follow, with the momentum failing during the twists and turns of songs such as the slightly ponderous 'Vile Hell'. However Chasny often manages to claw back interest by adding slight colouring to the stark instrumental palette, most notably in the gloaming electronic tones towards the end of 'Cut Angle', probably his most marked move into the realms of ambient music. A dense and difficult album, Hexadic II has a lot to explore beyond its immediate instrumental features. Beautiful album closer 'Poor Guild', feels like a reward - a hopeful, consoling benediction after the madness has passed. Sour dissonances clash with a pretty but painful resonance amidst the tracks shimmering backdrop of strings, Chasny's voice floating hopeful, high and lonely above the arrangement. This is Six Organs Of Admittance at its finest, with Chasny's compositional system finally summoning a kind of bleak ecstasy, underscoring the album's challenging artistic statement with a moment of plangent emotiveness. Don't let the talk about systems and strategies put you off - you only need ears to dissolve yourself in Hexadic II's freaky aura.
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Fri May 27 00:00:00 GMT 2016