Bruta Non Calculant, World In A Tear

Laércio Soares
Artwork by Laércio Soares

[Cititrax]


Buy Vinyl

Veronica Vasicka’s Minimal Wave label has released a plethora of spiky archival pieces from DIY synth experimenters of the late 70s and early 80s that have often lain forgotten—and sometimes unreleased—for decades. Recorded in musky bedsits in Hamburg, Copenhagen, Brussels, New York City at whatever point, this is the music of the enthusiast: the young amateur let loose on strange machines, making it up as she goes along, keeping the noise going in the early hours. Accordingly, it’s a catalogue that has often carried a stark vulnerability: raw, stumbling and untamed. Subsidiary label Cititrax has followed a more widescreen path, releasing music from established experimentalists like Chris Carter and The KVB. Here it presents the debut LP from Bruta Non Calculant, a new project from Alaxis Andreas G., the French underground mainstay behind Le Syndicat Electronique. It’s a record full of suitably nefarious velveteen sonics, the full Gallic shadow.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

“Civilisation” leads with the oppressive atmosphere of a funeral drone, kick, and snare, rendered in crystal vision. “The Perfect One” introduces guitar and Alaxis’ distinctive baritone into the mix, a hypnotic combination. “World in a Tear” offers an epic take on slow moving scarcity of sound—a vamping three-note synth refrain, some hats, and an echo unit. It carries the vibe of a sleazy Spaghetti Western set piece; the stranger approaching the flyblown bar; unshaven barman cleaning sticky mescal from the cloudy glasses; inbred locals swiveling on their stalls to blink away from the sun as the wooden slits flap open.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

“Oro in El Crisol” continues the theatrical atmospherics in fine form, all growling bass and moody ambience. Indeed, Bruta Non Calculant seem intent on creating a rather self-contained patch on this record. Most of the tracks contain broadly similar elements—particularly the beats, which deviate little from a low-lit click and stumble—but tweaks them subtly enough to create a securely enveloping and hypnotic whole. “A.M.” provides a somber, two-minute air break of string and vocal while album closer, “Our Grief,” rounds proceedings off in understated fashion with a woozy beat and crisp synths closing in fast. This is an album that seduces slowly, a hypnotic record that acts as something of a polished modern counterweight to the lo-fi excursions of Minimal Wave.

Your email is never shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

Popular posts in review

  • None found