Francisco López — Untitled [2009]
For an artist who strives to decontextualise his sound sources to create “absolute concrète music” to be appreciated for its phenomenal or spiritual qualities but not as documentaries, both disks kick off with surprisingly recognisable sound matter – snoring! Untitled #220, put out last year on Argentinian net label Fuga’s 15th Anniversary compilation, seems to particularly relish the most guttural snoring, later joined by one or two less voluble snoozers, to highlight the shifting rhythms found in heavy breathing. But all is not familiar for long as, steadily, the sleep drifts into the background while the more obscured elemental textures expected of López – rushes of outdoor air and footsteps on bracken juxtaposed with a pressing industrial drone – slowly build to dominate the mix, perhaps to make an aural depiction of a dream.
The set’s 14 tracks ranging from three to twenty minutes in length adequately cover Lopez’ regular haunts: his annual workshop in the Amazon where lucky applicants get to follow him to Mamori Lake to record its lush environment is represented by #232 and #233 whose frogs’ and crickets’ chant merge into morphing patterns; and López’ irregular series of urban field recording workshops is represented by #225 taking its sounds from one such event held in Birmingham, UK. Its whistle of what could be a tremulous metal sheet (thereby representing one of the city’s main industries), builds in front of a moody, groaning skyline as rainfall hits pavements, while clicks and pops cluster insect-like infesting the streets.
However, for those familiar with López’ work based on urban and/or rural field recordings the most enchanting pieces on the disk could be his ‘remixes’ of others’ work, although ‘reinvention’ may be a better word to describe what he does with them. Originally featured on a remix album of Soccer Committee & Machinefabriek’s ‘Drawn’, #221 takes “raw tiny sound fragments” to create an unnerving journey through dark unfamiliar territories, often near silent but with deep rumbling at the threshold of perception, eventually illuminated by piercing, slow slicing glass and later a glimmering cluster of synth-like tones hewn from Mariska Baars’ voice. But perhaps due to its superior length of 20 minutes #231 is ‘untitled [2009]’s most stimulating track. It is formed entirely from “raw recordings” by New York minimalist composer Phill Niblock giving the listener the opportunity to hear what kind of sound object López can make from orchestral instrumentation. A deep, suspended, piano note creates a kind of foggy fallout in which tiny lights briefly blink until drowned out by an ever-brightening wail of strings that form a central cinematic surface under which intense and varied activities swim, push, unfurl and call dramatically when perceived.
‘Untitled [2009]’ gives us another chance to explore Francisco López’ many sound worlds, but despite the sheer variety in his universe this compilation clearly displays a signature sound - vivid yet alien, naturalistic yet processed – that keeps listeners guessing the source of the sounds until the beauty of the textures and the power of the arrangements overwhelm such thoughts and allow immersion unfettered by questioning. But it also highlights some delightful deviations to the composer’s persistence with producing non-musical, non-recognisable, field recording-based atmospheres, by showing what López’ proprietorial processes do to more musical matter - there’s even a regular-ish glitchy groove a la Pan Sonic on #223 – which makes one wonder what would evolve from the composer’s hands if they spent time sculpting more musical matter?