B.J. Nilsen ~ Fade To White
A sound like distant
transport containers pounded by rubber mallets is succeeded by a single, wavering
note that's increasingly underscored by dense, ululating undertones. The effect
is tensely magisterial as if a king were standing on a cliff as it disintegrates
into a stormy sea far below. The structural simplicity of this 10 minute piece,
Purple Phase, combined with its textural detail and keening pitch makes for
an impressive experience comparable to surveying a dramatic coastal landscape
at length. Fade to White is Benny Jonas Nilsen’s first release since
last year’s rather lovely Live At Konzerthaus Wien, issued by Touch
on cdr. It continues a fascination for environmental soundscapes but, unlike
its predecessor, breaks proceedings into six tracks that range in duration
between five and fifteen minutes. Each piece was recorded in open spaces around
central Europe before being digitally remixed and arranged.
Dead Reckoning is denser and muddier than Purple Phase. It scuffles and scrapes at the eardrums as if trying to scour away an accumulated residue that might otherwise prevent its assimilation. Beneath the chilly vapours and surface scree of Let Me Know When It’s Over a tumbling piano motif can be spied, while parts of Grappa Polar are comprised of legions of patient trumpets. At least this is the impression intermittently conjured by Nilsen’s sonic sculpting, but like shapes seen in clouds, the trumpets and piano are an association of the mind that it’s difficult to verify the reality of. These soundscapes mirror the strange intersections of natural and manmade worlds in lengthy brooding passages that accrete into moments of elegiac grandeur.
Dead Reckoning is denser and muddier than Purple Phase. It scuffles and scrapes at the eardrums as if trying to scour away an accumulated residue that might otherwise prevent its assimilation. Beneath the chilly vapours and surface scree of Let Me Know When It’s Over a tumbling piano motif can be spied, while parts of Grappa Polar are comprised of legions of patient trumpets. At least this is the impression intermittently conjured by Nilsen’s sonic sculpting, but like shapes seen in clouds, the trumpets and piano are an association of the mind that it’s difficult to verify the reality of. These soundscapes mirror the strange intersections of natural and manmade worlds in lengthy brooding passages that accrete into moments of elegiac grandeur.
Colin Buttimer
January 2005
Published by The
Wire