Andreas Brandal — The Merchant of Salt
Indeed, the phrase “Merchant of Salt” when spoken in French (“marchamp du cel”) forms a kind of spoonerism of the artist’s name while individual track titles often allude to some of his most significant works: ‘Anemic Cinema’ was the film he made with Man Ray of one of his rotoreliefs (spinning hypnotic designs that went on to influence the Vertigo record label’s iconic logo); or, ‘Staircase’ referencing Duchamp’s ‘Nude descending a staircase no. 2’ that caused controversy despite its Cubist style revealing nothing titillating through it’s heavily distorting lens. With such a key figure of Twentieth Century art’s more avant garde movements, particularly Dada and Surrealism, one might expect to hear examples of Brandal’s noisier sensibilities, but instead we have a series of short, melodic refrains painted by heavily-effected guitar, ethnic flutes and smooth, suspended analog synths.
These synths, sounding somewhat like those used by the Radiophonic Workshop throughout the eighties, are central to each piece. On tracks like opener, ‘Existence is Elsewhere’, or later, ‘Chance Operations’, they glide, unfurl and extend revealing rich textures as they pass over the charming clarion calls of a flute. On ‘Anemic Cinema’ their questing tones reach out as a melancholic folk tune is slowly strummed by one of the more recognisable guitar elements. And on the penultimate piece, ‘End Game’ (a reference to Duchamp’s preference for chess over art in his later years), their upward and downward glissandi make the surrounding air effervesce as they form harmonically beautiful arcs in the air.
This surprisingly consonant arsenal of loops and layers is kept from seeming too proggy by a backdrop of Brandal’s more concrète concoctions: the hum and crackle of antique technologies or metallic scrapes and buzzes often intrude upon the otherwise serene synthscapes, but rarely threaten to abuse or merely scare the listener in ways much of Brandal’s previous output can. The pleasant sounds are a pleasant surprise, but without seeming to say much about its subject apart from, perhaps, the hypnotic and circular effect of Duchamp’s revolving rotoreliefs achieved here through extensive use of loops. Instead, we get a smooth soundtrack that suggests the science fiction of, say, Peter Davidson’s Doctor Who more than Duchamp’s game-changing readymades, which, in purely musical terms, is possibly all the better for it, while once again showcasing Brandal’s ear for texture amidst the tones however tuneful