Luciano Maggiore & Francesco fuzz Brasin — Chasm Achanes
The album announces itself with a series of long tone blasts, clearly marking out the pacing and the patience of its territory. Thereafter, an electric guitar interacts with these looping tones; interacts is the right word - its not a “conventional” build-up/crescendo/drone affair, it feels more like the guitarist is improvising with and against the loop, adding texture and detail. Around the fifteen minute mark, the looping tones become a drone; and from here on the album becomes akin to a good HNW recording: on the surface apparently static and dull, but with closer examination revealing a world of life, colour and detail. The drone never swerves from its root tone; there's no attempt to engage the ear with simplistic gestures or any “progression”. Indeed, as a recording called “Chasm Achanes” (“Huge Abyss” according to the inlay text) might suggest, it has a sound with all the distancing qualities of reverb; there's no loose strands, all of the sound elements are tightly bound together. In fact, I can only remember two moments where there were any “close-up” sounds, both being guitar noise or crackle. So instead we are left with murkier, more submerged details: subtle beating tones, or the wonderful drifting low end. The track becomes darker as it develops; until, after twenty-six minutes or so, it becomes a grainy wall of sound. Not so much “noise”, as a wall of bees. The whole track is very reminiscent of the seminal “Isolationism” compilation from 1994.
This is the kind of recording that you actually notice more when it finishes; I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, I simply mean that such a persistent, engulfing drone fills the ear and the room, and its sudden absence is shocking to the senses. Its a very definite silence. The ear has grown used to the dominant tone/note of the drone, to the extent that the brain sometimes almost negates it; whilst at other points, it “hallucinates” - I hear voices in the drone, the sound of rushing water. So when the drone finishes, after thirty-five minutes, the void (for the ear and brain) is inescapable and visceral.
On my first few listens, I confess I was impressed but not overwhelmed: I thought it was a good drone track. But having more fully immersed myself in “Chasm Achanes”, I really think its quite an exceptional piece of work; there’s a sense of architecture and space in the track which, once recognised, commands the attention.