Isolating something as ubiquitous as sound – how sounds first emerge and press their acoustic phenomena upon us – is damn near impossible. Why? Well, how do you stop listening, or pay attention to an act that is almost entirely passive? BJ Nilsen's latest field recording coup, True than Nature, operates on the premise that such encounters – where the nature of sonic emergence is first felt and perceived – can be coaxed if handled correctly. What makes this achievement all the more remarkable is the fact that True than Nature manages all of this while still projecting a mood, and it is a creepy one, to be sure. The eerie feel of the album is perhaps intended as a means to disrupt our normal modes of listening, to keep us from resorting to passive modes of being.
Spread over six tracks, things begin on "Where we are at night" in almost inaudible silence: a faint rumbling that rises to the surface over nine minutes. Hammering, metallic objects, and all manner of non-harmonic instruments are employed, all captured by contact mics that register proximity and distance with brute materiality, as on "Insofar", which concludes with a rush of what sounds like oncoming oil drums. Just how close things come to us listeners is very much the point, keeping the alien underbelly of sound alive and well.
Fans of Nilsen's work and field recordings in general will appreciate the meticulous crafting that went into the production of
True than Nature. Others, with little experience with, or affinity for, the genre will certainly find themselves shaken from their usual listening practices in a gloriously unsettling way. Highly recommended. Go
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