Karpatklokke

Great rumbly growly lower-register improv from the Norwegian trio Muddersten on their Karpatklokke (SOFA SOFA555) CD. The tuba player is Martin Taxt, who plays in the microtonal way on that instrument and also uses electronics; we much enjoyed his menacing antics on the recording Pan On Fire, when he did it with the Japanese feedback king Toshimaru Nakamura. Muddersten also boast the guitarist (he also plays tape loops) Håvard Volden from Flymoden, Moon Relay, Nude Ono Sand and The Island Band; and Henrik Olsson, from Gul, Skog Och Dal, Skogen, Slötakvartetten, and Unforgettable H2O, credited here with objects and friction, which means he’s joined the ranks of the “rubbing” improvisers who seize inanimate things and apply the frottage technique with varying degrees of franticness.

The stern and burbling non-music that emerges from Muddersten is supposed to be saying something about a particular kind of cracked muddy terrain and the way that plant matter grows in it, clearly a concern of some import for your Norwegian farmer or keeper of orchards. In keeping with this agricultural theme, the cover photos may depict such terrain, and while the front landscape is a pretty banal image, the inside spread of fissures and scraggly grass will delight viewers who enjoy textures and surfaces in their visual art. The Muddersten men may be somewhat “minimal” in their restrained playing and small-ish gestures, but the sound they create is very far from empty and simplistic, and indeed there’s barely a quiet moment or a smooth surface which they won’t roughen with their scrapey and parpy actions. I assume this says something about the old Nordic ways of ploughing the land in an extremely thorough way, leaving no acre of turf ungrooved, using dragon’s teeth and brass pins.

Muddersten's aesthetics are opposite to the ones of Niels Van Heertum or Microtub, even though Taxt, with his microtonal tuba and electronics, is a key player in this trio. Joining him is fellow Norwegian guitarist Håvard Volden, who adds tape loops, and the Swedish, Copenhagen-based guitarist, Henrik Olsson, who plays here only on objects, friction and piezo. 

Mudderstan is focused on the tension between motion and friction. It visualizes its mode of operation as the hydraulic cycle in muddersten, a type of mud rock whose original constituents were clay. First, the clay is compressed with fat sand, dried out, and turn into stone. Then, delicate flowers settle through its cracks and fissures and begin to soak water. Eventually, the water will gain enough pressure from below and force the surface to break. Mudderstan attempts to replicate sonically this persistent natural cycle to create soundscapes that capture continuous motion, still, motion that creates friction. 

The trio was established in 2015 and Karpatklokke is its debut album, recorded in February 2016. The seven improvisations offer a series of scattered and colliding sounds - fragmented, low breathes, alien-sounding ones, white noises blended with electronic, processed sounds - all distorted and mutated into erratic, abstract electroacoustic storms. The chaotic and irregular sonic scenery is indeed hardened, tough and merciless. But it also suggests a hypnotic palette of weird colors and bizarre sounds, flowing in its own special way. Patiently, and with great focus and conviction, Mudderstan distills these sonic storms into fascinating, almost psychedelic soundscapes.  
 

Muddersten er en norsk-svensk trio med Henrik Olsson (perkusjon), Håvard Volden (gitar) og Martin Taxt (kvarttonetuba). De improviserer med hverandre som sparringspartnere, i et samspill mellom elektronikk og håndspilte instrumenter. I likhet med et Taxt/Sofa-band som Koboku Senju, er de grensesøkende, og klarer på sitt beste å skape noe hittil uhørt. Underveis navigerer de etter ugjenkjennelige markører. Når Volden gjør gitaren til et perkussivt strengeinstrument i «Kjempeløk», ligner det de tyske avantgardistene Einsturzende Neubaten, og Olssons bruk av kontaktmikrofoner minner om Maja Ratkje og Hild Sofie Tafjords duo Fe-Mail. Taxt benytter et stort spekter av lyder, fra buldrende dype droner til tilnærmende slagverkslyder, og trioen klarer å skape medrivende musikk uten at lytteren har noen tonale holdepunkter.

Taxt, som i dag er selve springfjæren i SOFA-maskineriet, er også sentral i trioen Muddersten og deres debutplate Karpatklokke. Sammen med Håvard Volden på gitar og elektronikk og Henrik Olsson på oppmikket skrap, frembringes et fascinerende og foruroligende lydbilde av mørke tubaklanger, dyster elektronikk og grøsningfremkallende støyelementer. For en som nylig overlevde kinofilmen The Autopsy of Jane Doe (så vidt), altså årets skumleste film ifølge skrekkforfatter Stephen Kings Twitter-blurb, er det noe deilig ukomfortabelt over å trekkes inn i en slik verden av knitring, hvesing og dype drønn.

To be released via the Norwegian Sofa Music-imprint on January 13th, 2k17 is "Karpatklokke", a seven track album created by Havard Volden, Martin Taxt and Henrik Olsson under their conjunctional production moniker Muddersten. The groups name hails from a certain kind of mudrock that came to be from clay and soil drying out, and the album is - as far as we get from the press sheet - dedicated to or influenced by process of how plants manage to break through, cracking up this pretty much solid substance, mostly due to the use of hydraulics and the incompressible nature of liquids. And as chaotic, slow and unpredictable the process of a plant breaking through stone like material might sound, the trio's musical work does reflect that with all digital accuracy possible. Using guitar, tape-loops, electronics, objects, friction, piezo and - what ever this might be - microtonal tuba the body of work they create on "Karpatklokke" is, although highly digital and somehow walking the line between Clicks'n'Cuts and Noize for a very rough description, droney, fissured and fractured, at times deeply familiar like the very core of what life, and the everlasting process of bloom and decomposition, really is, at times abstract like the noise silently emitted by pretty much every digital or at least microchip driven device one owns and therefore extremely fascinating and defo one of our first highlights on the longplay release circuit this year. Check!

Martin Taxt still plays 'microtonal tuba' on the release with a trio named Muddersten, but it's  without any specific note mentioned and also electronics. The other members of the trio are Havard Volden (guitar, tape-loop) and Henrik Olsson (objects, friction, piezo). Muddersten we learn is 'a  type of mudrock whose original constituents were clays. It looks like hardened mud and, depending  upon the circumstances under it was formed, ut may show cracks or fissures, like a sun-baked clay  deposit'.  Still flowers can grow on this. The seven pieces here are improvisations and we also learn that the titles don't mean that much. The music is quite different than that of Microtub. It is hardly minimal and has lots of bigger and smaller events within each piece. Somewhere along the lines of (obviously) improvised music with the two instruments and the electro-acoustic approach of all the acoustic stuff used, along with the electronics into which these are fed. It moves back and forth, ranging from the quite (yet not complete) silent and the louder, chaotic (and yet never noisy) bits that are also to be found here. Their sounds bounce around completely without effects at points and then pick them up, move them around, through delay, reverb or whatever else there is, and they apply that to whatever it is they are doing. Sometimes there is no instrument to be heard and it seems an 'all-acoustic object' bash, but then the guitar and tuba pop up, out of nowhere it seems and their pieces move into something entirely different. I thought all of this was quite vibrant music, and that Muddersten plays it with some fine energy. Excellent work.

Właśnie ukazał się debiutancki album norweskiego tria Muddersten. Jeżeli lubicie nieoczywiste wykorzystanie tuby, gitary i obiektów, to koniecznie sprawdźcie ich materiał.

Wytwórnia Sofa opublikowała pierwszą płytę Håvarda Voldena (gitara, taśmy), Martina Taxta (tuba, elektronika) i Henrika Olssona (obiekty, tarcie, instrumenty perkusyjne). Ich krążek nosi tytuł „Karpatklokke”. W opisie nagrań wydawcy porównują muzykę Muddersten z procesami, jakie można zaobserwować w naturze, dokładnie związane z przebijaniem się roślin na powierzchnię twardej, wysuszonej i kamienistej ziemi. Początkowo jakoś ciężko mi było przyjąć taką interpretację, ale po wnikliwym przesłuchaniu tych siedmiu kompozycji udało mi się gdzieś w wyobraźni połączyć oba światy. Preparowana tuba Taxta (często bardzo niskie dźwięki) wykonuje swoisty odwiert w gęstej materii, tym samym torując drogę pozostałym instrumentom. Momentami ich eksperymenty brzmią niczym dobrze pracująca fabryka, choć niekoniecznie oblepiona smarami, porośnięta różnorodnymi fakturami mikrotonalnych klików, chrobotów, tarć, zgrzytów, szelestów. Muzycy ewidentnie pną się ku totalnej abstrakcji.

Derrière le nom de Muddersten, se cache le trio composé par Martin Taxt, Håvard Volden et Henrik Olsson, pour une virée fantastique dans un monde fait de sursauts inégaux et de fluctuations désordonnées.

Ici les instruments sont ce que les artistes désirent, objets que l’on frictionne, tubas déformés, guitares méconnaissables, loops irréguliers, telles des vagues prisent dans un atoll formé de retombées radio-actives. Les sonorités s’éparpillent et se recollent comme par enchantement, formant d’étranges paysages aux contours expérimentaux, formes de mantras post-apocalyptiques.

Karpatklokke réunit les acteurs en une performance hypnotique, où l’on se laisse aller sans réfléchir. On est happé par les basses aux résonances semblant surgir de didgeridoo, habillées d’échappées cristallines. Les gongs et les cloches apaisent tout en élaborant des climats envoûtants et instables.

L’électro-acoustique développée par Muddersten s’insinue de manière insidieuse sur toutes les surfaces, liquides, aériennes ou terriennes, s’agrippant à des murs glissants recouverts d’une matière poreuse aux mutations constantes. On est attiré comme un aimant, scotché à ces mouvements subaquatiques, animés de forces telluriques aux tensions permanentes. Un album aux images fugaces et ensorcelantes. Saisissant.

Looks like this is the first album ‘proper’ from this Norwegian group, following a limited edition split-cassette release with fellow countrymen Wolf and the Gang. It collects seven pieces of fantastic space-mulch where abstract electronics, musique concrete, misshapen guitar loops and tuba belches all rub together like early Nurse With Wound still seemed somehow ‘safe’ or pedestrian. Rich, sometimes multi-layered, sounds arm wrestle for just a bubble of doubtlessly contaminated air whilst ‘neath all this those overflowing rivers of madness do their utmost not to drown  everything as ghost ships sound horns through dense fog. There’s a Lasse Marhaug mastering credit attached to this album that probably paints an even greater picture of what’s afoot. And that’s a recommendation where I’m concerned. 

Την μικροτονική τούμπα- και τα ελεκτρόνικς- του Martin Taxt συναντούμε και στους Muddersten όπου, μαζί με τους Henrik Olsson (αντικείμενα, τριβές, πιεζοηλεκτρισμός) και Håvard Volden (κιθάρα, λούπες μαγνητοταινίας), ηχογραφούν το Karpatklokke σαν μια συμφωνία οργανωμένων θορύβων αλλά και δανείων από ήχους της φύσης. Αυτοσχεδιασμοί, concrete καταστάσεις, απρόβλεπτες παρεμβάσεις ηλεκτρομαγνητικών πεδίων- βιομηχανικές δομές, νότες υποφώσκουσες και γενικώς ακουστικές που απαιτούν ανοιχτό ορίζοντα προσδοκιών. 
 

A rose is a rose is a rose, secondo la famosa citazione da una poesia di Gertrude Stein. Si possono cercare infiniti risvolti tematici, parallelismi e metafore per offrire un senso a ciò che vediamo o ascoltiamo. Ogni cosa però, in definitiva, è semplicemente ciò che è: bisogna fare un enorme sforzo per giungere a destrutturare la realtà e prenderne le distanze, e infine percepire ciascuno stimolo con sensi rinnovati. Sta a noi, dunque, la scelta sulla strada da percorrere, di fronte al nuovo trio presentato dall’etichetta norvegese Sofa, specializzata in free impro e avanguardie non-musicali.

Il kit informativo ci spiega che il “muddersten” è una roccia argillosa che conserva alcune proprietà del terreno fertile dal quale si forma, così che tra le fessure presenti nelle sue concrezioni possono spuntare piccole piante, alimentate dai liquidi che la materia rocciosa non può assorbire. Dunque materia solida, grezza, che sprigiona organismi elementari e fragili: un’immagine basilare per descrivere il contrasto fra sorgenti elettroniche e vibrazioni acustiche direttamente derivate dall’azione umana.
Oppure si può presupporre che ogni nuovo progetto, ogni nuova formazione ha il compito di creare un mondo sonoro, un suo proprio equilibrio che abbia o meno senso di per sé – come è ovvio nel dominio della sperimentazione. Sfida ancor meno scontata se gli elementi da conciliare sono una chitarra, una tuba, input elettronici e vari oggetti più o meno “risonanti”, come avviene nella mezz’ora di “Karpatklokke”.

Un breve curriculum collettivo dei tre artisti, ricorrenti perlopiù in progetti d’area locale: Håvard Volden, conosciuto attraverso The Island Band e il duo “Nude On Sand” a fianco di Jenny Hval; Martin Taxt, fiatista presto di ritorno coi Microtub sulla stessa etichetta; Henrik Olsson, uscito con gli Skogen su Another Timbre e con altre compagini relativamente esoteriche. Se escludiamo una sessione live incisa lo scorso anno su un lato di audiocassetta (30 copie numerate), si può dire che questo sia il loro debutto ufficiale in gruppo, che in effetti presenta un’alchimia piuttosto amorfa e sfuggente, ancora lontana dalla conquista di un’identità – per quanto transitoria.

L’aspetto forse più interessante di questa inusuale line-up, almeno per la prima metà, risiede nel dialogo costante tra il ribollire delle manipolazioni elettroniche e lo scoppiettìo afono della tuba microtonale, probabilmente l’ultima grande rivelazione nel nuovo vocabolario fiatistico della scena sperimentale; una sorgente inarrestabile in mutazione e la sua controparte più frammentaria, che unite vanno ad aprire uno scenario di possibilità gemello della musica elettroacustica propriamente detta.

Con “Strid Kråkefot” i tre si lasciano alle spalle l’interplay ermetico per aprire una breccia ed espellere detriti di suono più netti, mentre i bordoni di Taxt ricoprono lo spazio sonoro in maniera pervasiva. Ulteriormente tormentato lo sviluppo di “Høstfloks”, dove anche i loop e le storture su corda di Volden divengono finalmente una presenza non solo tangibile, ma addirittura determinante nel modificare la prospettiva del quadro d’insieme. L’ultima parola in “Sibiriris” spetta invece agli oggetti amplificati e alle percussioni di Olsson, che come a un tavolo di dissezione va ricercando la loro esistenza para-musicale alla maniera di Alvin Lucier.

Pur trattandosi, probabilmente, di un set collaudato diverse volte prima dell’incisione, l’incontro in studio immortalato in “Karpatklokke” restituisce intatto il brivido dell’hic et nunc improvvisativo e soddisfa il potenziale di un trio strumentale così improbabile, come solo l’humus culturale norvegese poteva partorirlo.

Here’s how I imagine this one playing out. Three improvisers take an off-road shortcut on their way to a recording session. There’s a bump in the road. The back door of the van flies open. All of the instruments – guitar, tuba, synthesiser, tape machine, assorted objects – tumble out and land in the most gruesome swamp imaginable. The band manage to salvage everything, but it’s touch and go whether anything is still playable. Everything is clogged with mud and compounded forest gunk; it clogs the tuba valves, crusts over buttons and electronics, clings to the mechanisms and stifles the motors. A lesser band may have called it a day. Muddersten push on to the studio.

I sense that their original vision was a soundtrack to a Martian terraform attempt. Electronics shimmer like crimson lakes, guitars whimper like congregating alien bugs, static gushes from the hydraulic shafts of spacecraft landing stabilisers. It’s a bubbling, gurgling exoplanetary ecosystem, full of textures I part-recognise as either organic life or sci-fi astral technology. Yet in the wake of this fictitious swamp accident, the sounds are choked out and chopped up; drones splutter through blocked airways, tubas purr through phlegm, electronics malfunction and doggedly revive themselves as the circuitry blinks in and out of life. Instruments crackle and squelch like insects crawling through snot, temperamental and laboured in movement, driven by an assortment of instrumental grunts and respiratory wheezes.

An alternate analogy is the experience of waking up in a state of sudden sickness. Many of the noises remind me having a dehydrated mouth in the morning, clacking as the tongue unsticks from the teeth and the palate. The drones – guttural tubas, blurred electronics – curdle into a duet of headache and sinus congestion, while the general clatter of life starts to feel smothering and intrusive and totally unnecessary, pressing inward and downward from all sides, ranging from someone flicking plastic straws to the dreadful scrape of dry cloths against dry window panes. I’m squeezed into a state of nauseated paralysis. It should be wholly unpleasant to wallow in this material. For some perverse and incomprehensible reason, it’s actually rather wonderful.