#acid-jazz

The newest release from Crash SymbolsisHyphae, which was composed and produced by Andrea Rusconi under the name PAQ. The A-side is awash in balearic vibes, with music touching on downtempo tropicalia, fuzzy psychedelia, slow surf exotica, and stoned acid jazz. As for the B-side, Rusconi presents compelling combinations of sunrise-soaked tāmpurā drone, deep space synth slop, dopamine bebop, new age tribal, and solar flare ambient. The focus throughout is less on progression or transition, as almost every track locks early into a heady hypno-groove—or into spell of hypnagogic ambient—and from there, Rusconi and his collaborators paint the air in otherworldly hues while using subtle layering to generate mesmerizing displays of energy and motion. As such, the album is well named, and each song can be interpreted as a slowly advancing hypha…a tendril of lysergic sound twisting and winding into a grooving structure, which then grows together with other similar—yet distinct—threads of organic audio mysticism to form a complex body of mind-altering magic.

PAQ - Hyphae (Crash Symbols, 2021)
The title track opens in a natural setting, as whooshing winds join a panorama of birdsong. Star-trail feedback tracers introduce a bassline comprised of big buzzing space subsonics, and a horizontal groove emerges around it, built from ticking cymbals and rhythm box hand drums. Arpeggios like diamonds flitter about the spectrum and sampled choirs pulse in and out of the stereo field…their breathy songs helping to give things the air of a rainforest river trek, with a vibe not unlike fell Italian adventurers Lorenzo Morresi and Walter Quiroga. LSD-laced squelch solos cycle above balmy grooves of tropical electro-lounge, zipping laser wisps intermingle with garbled broadcasts from faraway solar systems, careening delay oscillations spiral out of control, and what sounds like solar organ drones are buried beneath layers of acidic liquid…like a screaming Afro-jazz siren sitting just out of reach. Then, as the rhythms disperse, basslines walk a seaside oasis rendered in tones of melted crystal, wherein drunken music boxes morph into alien radars. Next comes “Atomic Samba,” the name of which almost says everything there is to say. Riffing wah guitars and bulbous basslines bring in a shuffling island funk groove, with touches of Latin romance kissing the equatorial vibrations. Rimshot and snare hypnotics keep the mind entranced while kick drum and frogsong bass pulse deep into the body, and the combination of heavy-bottomed 70s groove and liquid six-string psychedelia pulls my mind to Fontanelle, only as if playing the part of a lounge band at some sunny Ibizan café. Understated melodies shine as if generated from a harpsichord made of quivering gemstone and highlife organs sing psychotropic hymns to the sun while galactic energy blasts push the balearic jam towards more cosmic waters. And by the end, the rhythms drop, and in the resulting world of ambient sonic sunshine, a bass guitar chugs, with slight distortion and vocal filtering kissing the fried funk lines.

Space age electronics wiggle through the void in “Airmalta” before a stoned lounge jazz jammer emerges, with contrabass plucking through the shadows. The drums of Enrico Ro morph quickly from lazed spiritual bop to a popping acid jazz breakbeat, though the vibe remains low slung and delirious, especially as smoke-shrouded e-pianos diffuse through the murk. The background overflows with weirdo space sounds, bubbling cauldron fx, insectoid hums, and cascades of resonance that filter into blinding light…all while a serpentine fuzz organ moves overheard, the vibe seasick, drunken, and countered by blistering waves of psychedelic fuzz guitar. Drum and bass continue holding their downbeat jazz groove and the electric pianos grow increasingly abstract while skronking chords intercut the SiP-esque Afro organ melodics. And eventually, the groove starts to vaporize, leaving overdriven keys and webs of slapback. As for “Lowed,” Rusconi drops us straight away into a world of surf psychedelia, with big basslines cruising along some seaside highway, and drums hard panned as they swing on the beat. Infectious snares intertwine with shaker and bongo patterns, while vibraphones sparkle in the moonlight. Piero Ambrosani’s trumpet coos out clouds of color and percussive vocalisms move at the edge of the mix…like bending saws approximating the soft songs of jungle fauna. There are evocations of Diminished Men, in particular when sci-fi synthesizers start squelching over the big bottomed surf jazz jam out, bringing with them a futuristic touch that only enhances the atmospheres of noir exotica. Trumpet and synth blur together into a fuzzed out mirage of melody and harmony, with the brass growing increasingly adventurous at certain times, while elsewhere backing a sensual whisper. Basslines pull out momentarily, and when they return, the stirring sounds of woodwinds join the mix, which sing their aerophone lullabies through a cinematic drug den haze. Then, as the track closes, it mutates into a nocturnal jazz zone out, with shakers and starlit idiophonics conversing with Ambrosani’s calming trumpet purr.

“Karin Solaris” opens the B-side and features high end drones wafting like opium smoke while unidentifiable field recordings suffuse the spectrum…these shuffles and scrapes of mysterious origin. Sickly drones grow in strength within the ether and golden shimmers from the noa bells and tāmpurā drones of Ambra Galassi peak through oceanic wavefronts generated by bowed strings. Echo pedal manipulations cause multi-tracked ghost howls, or sometimes sudden tonal shifts…like ripple moving through the fabric of the universe…and there are evocations of Pelt and Ariel Kalma, of Mind Over Mirrors and GHQ, and of Bitchin Bajas and La Monte Young, with cascading currents of feedback converging…resonating…vibrating. Feet rustle in the grass and bells are shaken in a state of ecstatic trance as brain bending oscillations swell in intensity, their tonal soundbath serenade activating astral portals and third eye visions. “Ouzospore” starts with oscillations moving through extra-terrestrial fluids, and with constructive collisions generating squiggles of spectral squelch and sprays of silver starshine. Melodic bubbles percolate beneath mangled modulations and sleepy-eyed filter sweeps while crazed percussive rolls fade in before panning out of sight. Electro-toms move side-to-side as a soporific slice of astral tribal jazz emerges, one that sees basslines locked into a classical bebop walk, though as if slowed down to a fever dream pace. Beating bongos generate skeletal percussive structures that are further supported by snare sketches and sparse cymbal splashes, and squarewave synth leads swim drunkenly through seas of galactic detritus wherein swirling spirals, feedback blasts, and liquiform oscillations merge as one.

“Notturno” begins with ceremonial drones flowing forth from the center of the cosmos…the effect like slowly lapping wavefronts of alien sound. Massive sub bass bubble bursts are guided by gentle tabla rhythmics, with the track taking on the feel of a berceuse as it lulls the mind into the world of dreams. Tremolo picked strings swell into magnificent arcs of post-rock wonderment—which trail like shooting stars across an expansive night sky—and my mind is drawn to Mogwai perhaps, even as the rest of the groove more so resembles the sundowner balearica of Max Santilli. Pads cry, moan, and morph into robotic baby babble, while simultaneously creating clouds of comfort the float the soul. Twinkling tones of silver and gold ping in the distance as the the mind drifts further towards visages of childlike spirits sleeping in moonlit clearings, where leaves and grass generate organic rhythms that merge with melting sonics as they rain down from the stars. Closing track “Radiomessaggio” begins with the titular radio messages, the origin unknown as Rusconi phaser-blasts the sounds into a body of billowing cosmic gas. Distorted voices and conversations from past lives are buried in layers of glittering noise while plucked tones of mutating glass warble and worm through the fractalized air. Snippets of sound are caught in malfunctioning delay machines, causing feedback oscillations to trail off to infinity, and as modulating bass sweeps filter through meditative cycles, the aforementioned tones of glass splinter into shards of screaming feedback. Heavenly organ drones sit beneath these layers of solar skree…a sort of new age incantation fighting against brain piercing psychsonics…as if some Seahawks or Experimental Audio Research-esque space ceremonial has been merged with the crazed treble psychedelia of Vibracathedral Orchestra or Sunroof!. Esoteric tones of kosmische energy explode into supernovas of strange colorations, sonar sonics pull the body and spirit towards some aqueous netherworld, and as the track moves to a close, warming bass waves and plucked abstractions swim together through an echoing dreamspace.

(images from my personal copy)

I’ve been focused of late on an exciting musical collective based around Abstrack Records, which encompasses a range of artists from the Nantes scene, as well as related acts throughout Europe. Since I haven’t had a chance to write yet about Abstrack’s slate of releases, I would like to spend some time doing so here in the introduction. The label debuted with Fréquence Pure Vol. 1, which featured DJ Solange’s broken beats and layers of minimalist club magic, with gleaming IDM metals, hovering angel voices, big blasts of bass, and demented synth riff distortions. As well, there were the desert caravan dance rhythms, world percussion tapestries, marauding basslines, snake charmer guitars, mystical woodwinds, and cosmic trance electronics of Vidock’s the Balek Band, whose Danse PrimitiveonBeauty & The Beat was also a major favorite of mine, though I regrettably never reviewed it. Next came Dreamtown Ethnic Cylinder, another multi-artist mélange featuring Sun Lounge favorites 404 generating an alien paradise of ever morphing exotica rhythms, with mysterious sirens swimming across exo-planetary landscapes, and stoned eruptions of braindance beat hypnotics overlaid by buzzing waves of granular noise. As well, Malcolm delivered body-beating techno drums amidst extraterrestrial synth slides and mutating displays of equatorial metal, with evil acid lines pulsing and breakdowns into ritualistic free jazz drum madness. And closing out Dreamtown Ethnic Cylinder is label main man Vidock, whose anxious breakbeats possess a ritualistic tribal energy that merges rave and rainforest, while also featuring extended world drum freakouts. Lysergic angels serenade the sky, pitch-shifting voices chant strange spells, gemstone hazes sparkle in the sunlight, and in a peak-time climax, jacking acid trance rhythms support a solar choir and their hymns of celestial fantasy and ecstatic wonderment.

Abstrack dropped an edit 12” next, featuring two works from Vidock, and one each from Edits de Nantes and Fanch. And here, balearic beats cruise in the desert moonlight and reed and fuzz leads howl, as idiophones cycle against ethereal pads and an expressive crooner pleads into the night; tribal trance grooves are slowed to a feverish acid chug and psych folk riffs loop through filtering cosmic mists while throat sung mysticisms intersperse with spiritual chants; sassy French prog meets Latin fusion, wherein conga line drums, solar horns, and liquid basslines work the body beneath joyous shouts and piano and steel pan hypnotics; and Afro-Carribean rhythms shuffle aside slapfunk basslines, with tropical electronics, ecstatic singing, and soloing brass all recalling Dementos-era Yasuaki Shimizu. Which brings me at last to Kanot’s Hit & Run, the newest release on Abstrack, and a spellbinding two track/two remix adventure. On the originals, Can-style krautfunk basslines ping, pong, and pulse, over infectious breakbeats or minimalist jazz fusion grooves, while the background swirls with psychotropic shimmers, LSD-glimmers, and refracting webs of echo. Neon-hued synth leads rocket towards universes unknown, and electric and acoustic guitars color the spectrum via heavy doom riffs, liquid fuzz leads, palm-muted echo patterns, and jangling webs of forest folk psychedelia. As for the remixes, Vidock morphs “Turbulens” into a minimal expanse of tribal club drumming and esoteric dub stimulation. Acid lines filter through hazes of fire, basslines rattle the ribcage, and mysterious voices babble into the void, with the track continually breaking down into cold clouds of delirium drone. Then, The Pilotwings’ remix of “Hit & Run” takes the listener on a horizontal rave odyssey awash in mystical magic, wherein ceremonial drums build ever towards ecstasy, futuristic angel voices chop into chill-out trance euphoria, laser light arpeggios fire across parallel dimensions, and spiritual choirs sing hymns of the interstellar abyss.

Kanot - Hit & Run (Abstrack Records, 2021)
Spectral shimmers fade in at the start of “Hit & Run,” like burnished metals reflecting a blinding light. Fairy voices sourced by one or both of Nose and Annsoe intertwine with telephonic tracers while new age pads morph, bend, and swirl…with threads of silver and rainbow intertwining. Crazed tropical slides rain down in the style of Len Leise as bulbous dub funk bass riffs drop onto the mix, pushing so much air as they move through fat bottomed pulses and hammer-on licks, with each vibration rendered in stunning detail. Tight funk beats work the body from ear to ear—the drums seemingly double tracked, or even featuring a dual drummer attack…like Jaki Liebezeit playing against himself—and the Holger Czukay style basslines continue generating a storm of psychotropic groove, as further layers of liquid lysergia are added via palm muting echo licks, and distorted Floyian funk guitars. Gonzo synth leads beam in from alien galaxies, with polychromatic melodies dancing star-to-star and mind-bending runs ascending at hyperspeed through aqueous baths of delay and reverb. Dubwise echoes refract across the mix, sassy voices speak mystical spells, and ethereal angel choirs drone softly through an ethereal haze, with claps cracking and laser light pads climbing towards the heavens. The groove is deeply infectious and unsettled at once, possessing as it does a sort of anxious energy that refuses to ever quite lock in, with Kanot preferring to keep the mind and body ever on the edge of psychedelic explosion. At some point the bassline backs into an understated shadow pulse, leaving space for trippy palm muted guitar percolations and body-moving breakbeats that converse across the stereo field. Spindly synthesizer fx crawl across the surface of the mind and ripping fuzz guitar solo enters the scene, reaching towards those Tony Iommi-levels of stoner psych shred as swaths of star ocean vapor threaten to subsume the mix. Riffs, licks, and melodic phrases from all across the track combine towards the end in progressive rock and 70s groove splendor, with fuzz synths and fuzz guitars spraying LSD vapors, tropical tracers melting down, breathy voices purring sensual mysteries, and summery funk riffs jangling in cloud of overdrive…until it all slowly fades away.

All the way at the other end of the B-side sits The Pilotwings’ remix of “Hit & Run,” which begins with a primordial hum that slowly resolves into a cosmic choir soundbath. Tribal percussions hit and bubbling rave electronics make serpentine motions in the darkness, with cymbals rattling and shakers riding on pulses of thick sub bass smoke. Chopped up trance vocals beam in from the space of dreams…these floating technoid angles singing over rhythmic synthesizers that mimic the songs of frogs and insects. Massive swells of sound repeatedly resolve into a climax of ritualistic drumming that quickly recedes, leaving space for progressive sequences to filter towards psychedelic abstraction. Playful kosmische arpeggios evoke a harp made of laser light and orchestral pads blare like sirens as they skim across some neon ocean surface, with a beat finally forming in the shape of slow methodical pounding…as if tribal trance has been reduced to a pure essence of mystical balearica, and transformed into a sundown ceremonial of shadowy dream magic. Fogs of golden glitter splash off myriad ride cymbals and massive wood drums are seemingly smashed by giants…all as the droning choirs diffuse in before decaying towards infinity. Acid threads colored in dayglo hues wrap around the mind as the immersive bass sculpting generates warming waves that float the body, and as everything cuts away dramatically, spiritual choirs are left to sing their soft songs of esoterica above a bed of chittering insects. Drum fills and cymbal rolls portend a progressive trance explosion that never quite comes, with the Pilotwings steadfastly refusing to drop any sort of structured break or club beat. Instead, they keep the mind locked into an eternal state of ecstatic ritual…the vibe like some futuristic energy glide through forests made of melting light, or some old world ceremonial of ancient and unknowable magic performed by space age druids…their spectral incantations cast across a sky suffused by sonar sequences and sparkling starshine.

“Turbulens” begins with repetitive industrial sound cycles smothered in phaser, before transitioning into a 70s-style jazz fusion and space funk stomp, with bass reducing to a low down throb, and interspersed with heady slapback lizard licks. The vibe is somewhere between early 70s Miles Davis and early 00s Circle, as the snare pops energetically on the beat, hesitant kick drums hit off of it, and splayed shimmer patterns flow across the cymbals…all while a polyrhythmic synth line snakes through the air, bringing with it touches of spy movie exotica. Suddenly, the track transitions towards acid folk and prog rock balladry, as acoustic guitars play to a mysterious moon and liquid metals rain down from stars. Basslines enter to phase and flange as they strut through dark forest undergrowth, with their bending lines smothered in pot smoke. Jazz cymbals splash as majestic chord changes portend visions of epic fantasy, and fuzz guitars are reduced to an ambient howl…the whole thing like the more tripped out and horizontal moments from Mushrooms Project, or like Led Zeppelin wandering through a fourth world daydream. Everything cuts away, leaving fluids to babble through corridors of ice and stone, while funky echo basslines slip-slide into the void…the jam slow, low, and zoned out. Kick and electronic snare hold a skeletal blues beat, hand drums add touches of tropical intensity, and the prog folk guitars reemerge to case shadowy spells of neofolk psychedelia while the stereo field overflows with ghostly moans and hallucinatory vapors. A fuzz guitar solo blazes towards the sky—setting the air aflame with distorted waves of fire—and eventually, basslines resume their liquid stoner strut, resulting in a laid back proto-doom groove, one that again recalls Black Sabbath, or perhaps their ancestors Dead Meadow, only morphed and mutated through the lens of dub, and given an extra dash of balearic magic. As massive tom fills storm across the stereo field, a fuzz riff enters to duel with the basslines, which pushes the vibes of stoner rock and psychedelic doom towards a glorious maximum, while also recalling NorCal acid jam legends Mammatus. Then, moving towards the end, everything seems to bliss out towards peaceful waters…but the flaming guitar solo continues growing in intensity, spitting waves of burning delirium as it screams across the sky.

Vidock’s “Turbulens (Matrix Remix)” begins again with looping industrial fluids, which soon cut away, leaving a doped out dub drum stomp. A trapkit bashes through the void as each hit splashes off layers of black dust and haze, and all through the air, chittering electronics dance around a morphing choir of the cosmic void…their cold and terrifying aria proceeding over chugging subsonic fluids, ricocheting hand percussions, and maniacal trap kit pyrotechnics. The drums cut away at times, leaving the soul to float through chasms of haunted machine hum and frozen ambient abstraction, and each time the rhythms return, the track seems to grow in intensity. Morphing electro patterns reverse and pan, creating some sort of mystical prog trance sequence…only slowed to the pace of an opium den fever vision…while enigmatic voices speak unknowable incantations. The rhythms morph into a lurching groove, with acid tracers firing ear to ear, and the beats cut again, leaving basslines to vibrate violently and snares to crack in a fog of frozen crystal. Later—after a stretch of oscillatory psychoactivation—the tribal ceremonial of tripped out dub dancing returns, with melodic esoterica blowing in on a breath of galactic wind. The percussion bounces and beats with a ritualized energy, and kaleidoscopic panoramas of rimshots and bell taps merge seamlessly with acidic blips and neon-colored IDM atmospherics. Towards the end, drum and bass begin filtering and transforming into corrosive clouds of darkness while acid electronics fire chaotically. Melodic themes of triumph blow through the mix trailing wisps of polychrome light, and as the hypnotizing dance grooves return, ethereal leads shimmer and shine far in the distance…their shape hardly discernible, yet radiating layers of glowing harmonic feedback. Anxious hyperspeed cymbal rolls rustle in the background like uncountable insect wings, and at last, a voice washes the mix clean, leaving behind panning streaks of oceanic ether and choir of crickets greeting a glorious sunset.

(images from my personal copy)