Compact Disc


Digital will become available 31st OctoberSLIP is Paul Abbott’s response to his 3 day residency at OTO in 2023. It’s a continued exploration of the acoustic-digital hybrid drum setup Abbott has been developing for some time, which involves drum kit and synthetic sounds combined closely—through an entanglement of limbs and cables—in an intimate but strange relationship with each other. Paul Abbott hasn’t had any formal musical training, but has a long history of making music, having collaborated for years with Seymour Wright, Pat Thomas, Michael Speers, Cara Tolmie, Anne Gillis and many others. Eventually, led by a profound suspicion of what is fixed or limited, Abbott began finding other ways to organise sound - or what he calls ‘material’: “I wanted a way to 'persuade' or guide the possibility of something happening - my activity or the events of an algorithmic composition - for example, but without certainty or formalism. It felt to me, during playing, that certain ideas had a particular sort of shape, but more than the form of a line. I began to write alongside (before/after) playing the drums, and ‘characters’ began to enter the scene as a more wobbly, and therefore appropriate option [to notation]. Working with these characters allowed me to simultaneously approach body, imagination, language and music: without dividing things up or separating these aspects from each other. It allowed me to leave things messy and entangled, whilst trying to deal with form and specificity: wanting to have some things feel or respond differently to other things at other times.”  In approaching his residency, Abbott developed a fixed cast of characters - crystal, lleaf, reiy.F, reiy.C, strike, nee, qosel, sphu and aahn. They each communicate using different kinds of movement and drum kit/s, and Abbott choreographed them as ‘dances’ based on different feelings, or outlines of behaviours suggestive of ways of moving (body, drums, sounds). He then arranged these characters into ‘compositions’: one for each performance day, with each composition featuring multi-layered activity - options for behaviours, ways to move around the rooms, play drums, develop synthetic sounds, change the lights or re-distribute the sound in the space. After the performances, Abbott took home 9 hours of recordings split into up to 28 multitrack channels for each day, and re-organised his cast once more into a performance for 2LP, CD and digital. It’s an enormous amount of work - but Abbott is activated by the process. For him, the pleasure of unstable edges, possibilities, slippages, is the vital attraction. Like all living organisms, Abbott’s characters have malleability and responsivity.  They stimulate a bundle of possible behaviours, a tendency to act a certain way, a temperament, a boundary of respective limits or affordances. It’s an affective way of working, inclusive of Roscoe Mitchell, Sun Ra, Nathaniel Mackey and Milford Graves. In ‘Pulseology’(2022), Milford Graves reminds us, ‘Breath varies, so cardiac rhythm never has that (metronomic) tempo. It’s always changing. All the alignments of the heart are determined based on the needs of the cells, specifically tissues and organs. The heart knows if it needs to speed up.’ In SLIP, to slip, in a heartbeat, is to descend not into the grid of the even metre accorded to the heartbeat, but into a play of mutability and modality. To change is the condition of the heart.

Paul Abbott – SLIP

Sound Storing Machines: The First 78rpm Records from Japan, 1903-1912The first commercial recordings from Asia were made in Japan in 1903 by Fred Gaisberg, the legendary producer and recording engineer who traveled the world making recordings for the Gramophone Company (later His Masters Voice). The recording industry barely existed at this time. Man’s ability to record and reproduce sound had only existed since 1877 (with the invention of Edison’s cylinder phonograph) and flat disc records, what we all collect and obsess over today, had only come into being in the late 1890s.It is a miracle what these fragile discs have survived: wars with Russia and China, the fire bombings (and worse) of World War II, modernization, the onslaught of Western media. They document, through a dreamlike haze of surface noise, a Japan that had just barely begun to open its doors to the rest of the world.Including gagaku, shakuhachi, shamisen, storytelling, folksong and more. these recordings are a unique glimpse into an ancient culture and an important document of the beginnings of the recording industry. Simple and complex. Alien and familiar. Featuring important artists and those who only appeared to sing before the strange Western recording horn and then vanished.Sound Storing Machines spans only 9 years of recording—-from 1903 and the first commercial recordings made by Fred Gaisberg to 1912, the beginning of Japan’s homegrown record industry, including a few sides taken from Japan’s notorious bootleg 78rpm industry.

V/A – Sound Storing Machines: The First 78rpm Records from Japan, 1903-1912

When words trail off at the beginning of claire rousay’s “everything perfect is already here,” ornate instrumentation is waiting to fill a void left by the breakdown of language. Yet it becomes clear as we trace rousay’s collaged sonic pathway that breakdown, of meaning and also of melody, is also a place to rest. everything perfect… is made up of two extended compositions that cycle between familiarity and unknowing. There are seemingly infinite ways to feel in response to these pieces of music, which shift tone across their languid duration, earnest like a familiar song but unbound from the emotional didacticisms of lyrical voice and pop form.rousay builds a fluid landscape around the acoustic contributions of Alex Cunningham (violin), Mari Maurice (electronics and violin), Marilu Donovan (harp), and Theodore Cale Schafer (piano), whose respective melodies weave gently in and out, sometimes steady, sometimes aching, sometimes receding altogether in deference to less overtly musical sounds. That is, percussive texture in the form of unvarnished samples and field recordings: the rattle and rustle and the stops and starts of life unfurling, voices sharing memories nearly out of reach, doors closing, wind against a microphone. Everything comes from somewhere in particular, possessing the veneer of the diaristic, but sound’s provenance is secondary here and so these details become tangled and fused. On this release I hear such details not as individual ornaments or stories but the collective architecture of the greater composition. It’s an architecture that is not quite formed and thus full of openings out to the world unfolding. “The world unfolding,” that’s a kind way of saying change, movement, loss, transformation. Things rousay here indexes, not without shards of desire or pain, still somehow what I hear is coarse peace in the in-between. These two pieces sweep you away and then bring you to earth, but which is which, anyway? Where am I now? What is different outside of me? What is different inside of me? Um. I think. everything is perfect is already here, like the answers to these questions, is loose and beautiful in surprising ways.The music guides a certain experience of the world around. In claire’s music there is this marriage—not just a pairing or juxtaposition but an interrelationship, an eventual confusion—of song/texture, narrative/abstraction, figure/ground. Everything comes from somewhere in particular but not just the voices, the field recordings, the what is being said or meant, what matters is “the where you are now.” There are so many ways of anchoring oneself in the present, some have to do with fantasy or storytelling and some with accepting what is.These two compositions find peace between these modes. They sweep you away and then bring you to earth, but which is which, anyway? Their mode of feeling is inquisitive. Where am I now? What has changed outside of me? What has changed inside of me? The music, like the answers to these questions, is loose and beautiful in surprising ways.

claire rousay – everything perfect is already here

Hampus Lindwall is a musical artist active in many fields ranging from contemporary music to experimental and electronic sound / music. He has released many albums, as a soloist and in collaboration and is the titular organist in Saint-Esprit, Paris, since 2005.::::::​​As 2024 came to a close, in New York and Paris chords rang out from thirty-two-foot pipes for the first time in half a decade. Following twin fires in 2019, the grand organs at the cathedrals of St John the Divine and Notre-Dame, amongst the largest instruments in their respective countries, had finally been restored. The news was justly celebrated in the international press, but the incidents were far from isolated. In England, the city of Norwich hailed the return of its cathedral’s five manual organ in 2023 and just two years earlier York Minster heralded a “once-in-a-century” refurbishment of its own 5,000-plus pipe instrument. Meanwhile, further organ restoration projects are ongoing at churches in Liverpool, Bradford, Bristol, Winchester, and Washington DC. Significant as they are to their respective communities, they’re also emblematic of a wider rebirth for one of humanity’s oldest musical instruments. The organ is having a moment. Over the last few years, albums by the likes of Kali Malone, Ellen Arkbro, Anna von Hausswolff, FUJI|||||||||||TA, and Áine O’Dwyer, as well as projects in the visual arts by Sollmann Sprenger, Cory Arcangel, Massimo Bartolini and many other talented artists, have given a new prominence to the old ecclesiastical stalwart. The pipe organ bears historical traces which stretch back to the third century BC. But that doesn't mean it can't speak to a contemporary moment haunted by algorithms and networked culture. Hampus Lindwall’s Brace for Impact is an album of organ music for today.Things nearly turned out very differently for Lindwall. Were it not for a simple twist of fate, the guy now occupying the organist’s chair at the church of Saint-Esprit in Paris, occasional collaborator with Phill Niblock, Leif Elggren and Susana Santos Silva among many others, might well have wound up in the world of pop music. In the 1990s, as the Stockholm club scene started taking off, Lindwall found himself moving in the same circles as the electronic music artists connected to the city’s legendary Cheiron studios. The aesthetics of 90s rave remains an important part of his musical DNA to this day. Born in the Swedish capital in 1976, Lindwall learned his chops copying the solos on Steve Vai records. It was only later, towards the end of his teens, that he even started playing keyboard instruments. When seeking to enter Stockholm’s prestigious Royal College of Music, Lindwall tendered two applications: to the jazz department, as a guitarist, and to the classical music department, as an organist. He was sure he would be accepted with the guitar. In the end, he was rejected from the jazz department for spurious reasons, inadvertently setting Lindwall on a path to becoming a classical organist.Brace for Impact sees Lindwall returning to the scene of his adolescent obsessions. It’s an album of five recent contemporary classical compositions, all performed by the composer himself on the seventy-eight stop organ at St. Antonius church in Düsseldorf. It’s also a highly visceral forty-five minutes of music with undeniable elemental power.The title track proposes a historical counterfactual equal and opposite to its author’s own youthful fortuity: what if fate had somehow barred Iannis Xenakis from becoming the pioneering architect and composer remembered by history and instead led him to join a metal band? Inspired by the searing glissando that opens the Greek musician’s seminal (1953–4) work Metastaseis, the piece pairs a series of rip-roaring slides on a highly saturated and distorted electric guitar (performed by collaborator and SUNN O))) founding member, Stephen O’Malley) with the halting attempt of Lindwall’s instrument to follow it, in spite of the discrete nature of the individual keys on its manuals. It’s an electrifying piece of music, slapping the listener round the face straight out of the gate at the start of the record. But it’s also a deft study on the uneasy relation between analogue curves and digital steps.Brace for Impact might just be the first album of post-internet organ music. Like a performance by Dutch artists JODI, it is a record weaned on networked processes and algorithmic thinking, a suite of tracks which build their own systems then push them to the point of collapse. Lindwall is not a programmer, but he will wield whatever technology is ready to hand much as Chopin made use of the richer, fuller sound of an Erard piano. From the software subtly weirding the interior textures of ‘Swerve’ and ‘Piping’ to the juddering, kernel panic of ‘AFK’ and ‘À bruit secret’, these are works of music unthinkable without the ubiquitous experience of life lived online. Imparting that hypermodern aesthetic sensibility through the austere sound of a baroque organ only heightens the anachronistic sense of temporal disjuncture characteristic of days spent rabbit-holing through ever-multiplying stacks of browser windows. The vernacular of Web 2.0 is here re-transcribed in the ornate script of a medieval illuminated manuscript.Artist and blogger Brad Troemel (aka The Jogging) once compared the practices of his own cohort of digital natives to the non-retinal strategies of Marcel Duchamp a century earlier. “Duchamp’s readymade came at a time of transition when consumers were first buying mass-produced goods,” he notes. “During Duchamp’s era, the word ‘readymade’ referred to the objects in one’s home that were not handmade. And for the generation of artists coming of age today, it is the high-volume, fast-paced endeavour of social media’s attention economy that mimics the digital economy of stock-trading, a market increasingly dominated by computer-automated algorithmic trades.” Lindwall, equally, regards the elements comprising the material for his music like so many pre-given readymades ripe to be appropriated. ‘À bruit secret’ feeds the whole fifty-six note run of the organ keyboard into a random number generator before being variously manipulated like a Schoenbergian tone row built from the standardised limits of the instrument. The use of commercial software even spurred Lindwall to name the track after Duchamp’s (1916) sculpture with an unknown rattling object inside. Starting the album with the jagged crunch of an E major guitar chord followed by an interval leap of a minor sixth up to C felt, to Lindwall, like a sort of citation – whether from Chopin or Yngwie Mamlsteen (possibly both).As a conservatoire student, Lindwall felt he had to leave his passion for guitar behind, as if there were no room for those ideas within the formality of the music establishment. Only later did he come to see it as a resource he could draw on, a deep well of subcultural knowledge to be mined, just as Bartók once excavated the folk songs of his native Hungary. Lindwall cites Jeff Koons, who once claimed he only found his voice as an artist when he started looking to the kitschy objects sold in his father’s antique shop while he was growing up. In this sense, at least, Brace for Impact may represent the organist’s oeuvre at its most arch and conceptual – but it also finds him at his most personal. This is an album borne of obsessions, with an obsessive’s attention to the details of sound and structure. It is also an absolute blast: a record of ferocious immediacy with one foot in the distant past and eyes firmly fixed upon the future.

Hampus Lindwall – Brace for Impact

The first vocal album by beloved Ethiopian nun, composer, and pianist Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru - profound and deeply moving home cassette recordings made amidst political upheaval and turmoil. These are songs of wisdom, loss, mourning, and exile, sung directly into a boombox and accompanied by Emahoy’s unmistakable piano. Though written and recorded while still living at her family’s home in Addis Ababa, Emahoy sings of the heartache of leaving her beloved Ethiopia, a reflection on the 1974 revolution and ensuing Red Terror in her homeland, and a presentiment of her future exile in Jerusalem. In the 21st century, Emahoy has become known worldwide for her utterly unique melodic and rhythmic style. Commonly misinterpreted as “jazzy” or “honky tonk,” Emahoy’s music actually comes from a deep engagement with the Western classical tradition, mixed with her background in Ethiopian traditional and Orthodox music. These songs, recorded between 1977-1985, are different from anything previously released by the artist. Rich with the sound of birds outside the window, the creak of the piano bench, the thump of Emahoy’s finger on the record button, they create a sense of place, of being near the artist while she records. Emahoy’s lyrics, sung in Amharic, are poetic and heavy with the weight of exile. “When I looked out / past the clouds / I couldn’t see my country’s sky / Have I really gone so far?” she asks in “Is It Sunny or Cloudy in the Land You Live?” Her vocals are delicate and heartfelt, tracing the melodic contours of her piano on songs like “Where Is the Highway of Thought?” “Tenkou! Why Feel Sorry?,” a career highlight that closes out her self-titled Mississippi album (MRP-099), is revisited here with vocals. Originally composed for her niece, Tenkou, the lyrics clarify the song title we’ve wondered about for so many years. “Don’t cry / Childhood won’t come back / Let it go with love Emahoy dreamt of releasing this music to a larger audience before her passing in March of 2023. We are proud to release this music, in collaboration with her family, now, in what would have been her 100th year. LP comes with a 16-page booklet full-color booklet. Gold cover first edition, pressed in both black and gold vinyl editions.  All songs composed and recorded by Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru, Addis Ababa, 1977–1985

Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru – Souvenirs

LP / CD / Tape

Unreleased material composed by Bernard Parmegiani in 1992.Lac Noir - La Serpente is part of Emmanuel Raquin-Lorenzi's Lac Noir, a composite work inspired by a serpentine female creature or 'snake woman' that he saw in Transylvania in 1976, with a total of 33 pieces using various media, 24 by himself and 9 by other artists. All the materials used in Lac Noir were gathered on the land of the snake-woman between 1990 and 1992. The first coordinated broadcast ran from June to October 2019, like a theatrical display of media.At the end of May 1992, in Provence, in his Summer studio not far from the Montagne Sainte-Victoire, Bernard Parmegiani played me the first musical moments he had worked on from the sounds he and Christian Zanési had collected in Negreni in October 1990. A few days after this listening session, on 4th June, I wrote him a letter. I didn't mean to take control of what was to become the ninth movement of his composition, but to share with him some of the resonances I had heard in what he had composed, which mingled with my dreams and memories of the Transylvanian snake-woman, and outlined possible concordances with the other pieces underway for Lac Noir.In the midst of the garish chaos of the fair and its spectacular stunts, there could spread out - still, silent eye of the cyclone - the long waters of a lake. Calm waters. Patches cool but sensitive as skin. Between the waters there flows and ripples, there shows up and dives again a snake-woman born of the still waters. A sweet, good serpent whose song - strange and melodious, sensual, yet already tinged, as if bitten by the black depths, with bitterness; that of prescience, shading it with melancholy - is her very undulation, the rings of which appear, together or in turn, the way translucent veins overlap, slither over one another in a moving braid of metamorphoses.(extracts from notes by E. Raquin-Lorenzi)

Bernard Parmegiani – Lac Noir - La Serpente 1992

When they performed a handful of concerts as a duo in the summer of 1998, Kristen Noguès and John Surman had already worked a lot on the interweaving of genres: Noguès had confronted traditional Breton music with contemporary music and Surman had changed his jazz into atmospheric numbers that would be amongst the finest recording on the ECM label. As a duo, the harpist and the saxophonist would go on to invent something different: free folk, traditional ambient, modal ‘fest-noz’ … it is difficult to label, because the duo Noguès / Surman is one of a kind. Diriaou, means “Thursday” in Breton. It is also the title of the first piece that Kristen Noguès and John Surman played together in 1991. Noguès learned the Breton language as a child, at the same time as the Celtic harp, – taking lessons with Denise Mégevand, who would go on to teach others, notably Alan Stivell. At the beginning of the 1970s, Noguès discovered Breton singing (soniou and gwerziou) At the beginning of the 1970s, she discovered the Breton song tradition (soniou and gwerziou) and became involved in Névénoé, a cooperative of traditional expression founded by Gérard Delahaye and Patrick Ewen. She recorded a single with the two musicians in 1974, then her first album, two years later. Everyone who has listened to Kristen Noguès debut Marc’h Gouez, is now aware of her mysterious plucked strings. Her art, leaving Brittany, would go on to take in all landscapes and folklores, in the same as that of John Surman, conceived a little further north including vernacular jazz, international fusion with Chris McGregor or Miroslav Vitouš, and exploring more personal territory. Remember the Cornish landscapes in one of the best albums on the ECM label : Road To Saint Ives. Kristen Noguès and John Surman thus shared an ‘extra-Celtic’ inspiration infused with free improvisation. On this recording, made in 1998 by Tanguy Le Doré at the Dre Ar Wenojenn festival, the duo uses original compositions which refer back to traditional songs (Maro Pontkalek, Le Scorff). The musicians then create fantastic impressions: Baz Valan, on which Noguès and Surman have a heavenly exchange; Kernow, on which the shared theme slowing disappears into the mist; Maro Pontkalek and Diriaou which move from the storm to the calm. Elsewhere, there is singing, first with Surman (Kleier) and then moving on to Noguès (Kerzhadenn and her signature song Berceuse). On a canvas of traditional music, the two musicians weave countless memorable landscapes.

Kristen Noguès - John Surman – Diriaou

LP / CD

At the beginning of the 1960s, at the Berklee College of Music, Byard Lancaster met some feisty friends: Sonny Sharrock, Dave Burrell and Ted Daniel. It is easy to see why he rapidly became involved in free jazz. Once he was settled in New York, he appeared on Sunny Murray Quintet, recorded under the leadership of the drum crazy colleague of Albert Ayler. In 1968, the saxophonist and flutist recorded his first album under his own name: It’s Not Up To Us. The following year he came to Paris in the wake of… Sunny Murray. He would come back to France in 1971 (again with Murray) and in 1973 (without Murray for a change). This is when he met Jef Gilson, the pianist and producer who encouraged him to record under his own name again. On Palm Records (Gilson’s label), he would release four albums: Us, Mother Africa, Exactement and Funny Funky Rib Crib. The recording of “Exactement” required two sessions in the studio: February 1st and May 18th 1974 – in between the two dates, Lancaster recorded, alongside Clint Jackson, the excellent “Mother Africa”. Two names appear on the cover of “Exactement”: Lancaster (Byard) and Speller (Keno). Byard Lancaster wanted to be precise, moving regularly from one instrument to another: first on piano, which was the first instrument he learned. On “Sweet Evil Miss Kisianga”, his inspiration is first and foremost Coltrane (even if leaning more towards Alice than John), this announces the storm to follow. It is Lancaster’s horn-playing which really stands out: on alto (the sound of which is transformed by an octavoice on one track, "Dr. Oliver W. Lancaster") or soprano saxophones, as well as on flute or bass clarinet, the musician walks a tightrope making the most of all the risks he takes. Using the full register of his instruments, he has fun with the possibilities. Then, Lancaster invokes or evokes Ornette Coleman, Eric Dolphy and even Prokofiev, before going into a danse alongside Keno Speller on percussion. Above all, he has a unique sound. Byard Lancaster, on whatever instrument he plays and by continually seeking, always ends up hitting the right note… ends up by playing exactement the note he had to play.

Byard Lancaster – Exactement