lunar_train

A delicate mermaid choir, electric guitars, synth and an ostinato drum groove echoing the rhythm in Ravel's Bolero: the eponymous opening track of Urzhia-Kan's second album, Atlantik, promises an engaging and adventurous musical experience.

In the first (L'ange maudit) of the two multipart tracks that follow, another beautiful choral melody introduces a solemn elegy in three movements, dominated by powerful piano and guitars, epic strings, percussions and drums, with occasional vibes adding a touch of wistful sweetness. The chorus returns in the last part of L'ange maudit, where keys and percussions weave an interesting and elaborate backdrop, interlaced with a synth and guitar pattern that recurs in variations throughout all installments of the composition.

The second multipart track, In Search of the Ultimate Arpeggio, sets off on a vibrant melodic line, following a kind of circular progression towards a final movement that brings together elements from the two previous ones and concludes on a lighter, almost self-mocking note - maybe suggesting that the "ultimate arpeggio", a metaphor for every artist's aspiration to the absolute perfection of form, is in fact unattainable (since a restless creative mind is never satisfied with what it has achieved, and will continue striving for more).

Once again, a choir (this time punctuated with somewhat ominous sounding bells or mallets) opens the ending track, Profondeur en surface, which goes on to unfold into a laid back, gorgeous melody that seems to revisit both the Ultimate Arpeggio theme and the imposing atmosphere of L'ange maudit, in a subtle play of mirroring symmetry.

Complemented by a clever album cover which brings to mind a crop circle field, Atlantik is one of those cases where form and content are inseparable from each other - a stylish, researched and accomplished work with a definite personal "signature".

Five "cornerstone" poems by authors whose work marked Europe's (and the whole world's) literary history - the famous Shakespeare sonnet My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun, Wordsworth's The Solitary Reaper and She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways, Home Is Where One Starts From by T. S. Eliot (from the Four Quartets) and When You Are Old by W. B. Yeats - set to music in an ambitious yet unpretentious album, merging past and modern resonances in a peculiarly attractive mix.

Melodies that sound both unusual and weirdly familiar, like almost forgotten lullabies from a faraway childhood, are accented by dainty instrumentations (My Mistress' Eyes), engrossing atmospheric pads, rocking rhythms and crystalline violins (The Solitary Reaper), sweet flutes, piano arpeggios and heavy strings (Home Is..., She Dwelt..., When You Are Old) and what has to be the biggest oddity of this album - the vocals. It was a really daring move on the composer's part to use exclusively synthetic "female" voices on songs comprised of poetry set to music, of all things - a decision that could easily defy the purpose by ruining all the immaculately constructed architecture of the album. But thanks to precisely its own particularity, it does not.

That said, I must confess my mixed feelings about the software generated "voice" - the handiwork that was done on it so it could actually pronounce the words is decidedly admirable, but on the other hand, the awareness that it's not a real singer we are listening to, risks becoming more and more nagging and somewhat uncomfortable; at the same time, though, this eerie mechanical sound often takes on a texture that feels curiously warm and "alive", a hybrid quality which gives the impression that some kind of strange creature is singing these verses - a half-human robot or an alien mermaid. There is a childlike purity in the "voice" which manages to be expressive, and even touching, in a riveting, although a little unsettling way.

The five poems in the collection have been wisely chosen and arranged in order, recounting the infinite circle of love, life and death, from which no one escapes: in our beginning is our end, and in our end is our beginning (it was probably not by chance that, deliberately or subconsciously, the poem that contains exactly this phrase was placed right in the middle of the tracks, signalling the simultaneous end and beginning of the cycle, the meeting point of opposites around which everything revolves). A serene philosophical contemplation of joy through sorrow, light through darkness and the inverse - of the intricate web of nuances and contradictions that make up our existence.

I had first listened to Juan Shaman a few years ago, when his album Reevolucion was published on Jamendo. I was impressed by his very characteristic voice and the dark, rhythmic melodies of his songs, while his lyrics reminded me a little of Lorca's poetry - highly evocative, sometimes surreal, but also close to the pure lyrical and audacious imagery of traditional songs.

It was a marvellous surprise to find his newly published two-CD album and discover another facet of his music, this time exploring the coexistence of acoustic and electronic instruments. The use of synth sounds and effects blended with guitars and piano results in a quite unexpected, but harmonious mix of sonorities. The sound, rich, multilayered and profound, is captivatingly melodious, complemented by the voice which is as beautiful as in Reevolucion, but has acquired a new distinctive texture, sweeter and more assertive at the same time.

The album manages to be both diverse and unified as a total, although I will admit a slight preference for the first part (especially Solos y Azules, Alma de Chocolate and Pausa en el Camino) and Encanto, Luciernagas and Lucero from the second CD, as well as the bonus track.

The cover of Solos y Azules is also gorgeous in both its versions (a differently coloured variation for each of the CDs, corresponding to the two parts of the title, "Alone" and "Blue"), illustrating the powerfully poetic disposition of the lyrics.

An extremely interesting album and a definite must-listen!

Trip solombre is a genuinely original album on all aspects. Its greatest asset rests in the impressively powerful, flexible and almost weirdly beautiful voice of the singer, tracing an occult journey on engrossing sonorities accented by dark, ritualistic hymns and incantations.

I will confirm the stylistic and vocal proximity to Virgin Prunes (and especially Gavin Friday) mentioned by another reviewer, and could also add Dead Can Dance as a probable influence (although I believe that in most cases, any perceived musical "kinship" is usually in the ears of the listeners rather than in the music itself, so the points of reference may differ from person to person). In any case, Shamatronic's album does have a very characteristic style, which undeniably sets it apart as a concept as well as its realisation.

We are all, to varying degrees, sensitive and susceptible to "magic" - we are brought up with stories that introduce us to the notion of supernatural intervention and influence since the earliest years of our life. Or perhaps the collective human subconscious still carries atavistic memories of its ancient rituals and responds reflexively to anything that might trigger them. Sometimes the veil separating our everyday routine from what lies outside the edges of our knowledge, is half-lifted and lets us take a furtive peek at the vast, fascinating unknown. Art, and especially music, is tightly linked to these passages towards the worlds beyond; with its own magical capability of (re)creating everything from nothing, it attempts to bring us closer to what our limited sensory perception prevents us from reaching.

As its title indicates, Trip solombre is an invitation to a journey through light and darkness (sol=sun, umbra=shadow) and - I don't know if this is delibrate - also looks like a direct allusion to the painter Jean Solombre, whose ethereal aquatints explore the boundaries of visible and invisible. The music illuminates or deepens the dark at will, blurring the line between dream and nightmare and creating an impression of constantly shifting chiaroscuro. The riveting melodies and electronic accompaniment, with reverse sounds and distortion effects, help build up the imposing mystical ambience appropriate for the lyrics (some of which are sung in Corsican) and set off the power and potential of the voice.

One of the most striking concept albums I had the opportunity (and the chance) to listen to on Jamendo.

Leermond's music is defined by the composer himself (one half of the German duo Die Schatten) as "wandering through time and the senses" - and Castanea is an album that illustrates this description in the most representative manner. Deeply introspective and thought-provoking, the sound flirts with an assortment of styles and genres, claiming its own particular "signature" through the creative assimilation of its references.

In the eponymous opening track, Kastanien, the voice is treated in a way that gives it an "embryonic" quality - a protopypal dimension evoking a dreamy state of being, before or even beyond life. The enigmatic introduction and the fragmentised repetition of words and syllables entices the ear and mind into following the thread of sound that unravels, until the final melodic "question mark": a musical "riddle" that remains unsolved, allowing each listener to react emotionally to it according to his or her own personal "reading". There is an "official" explanation offered by the composer about the choice of this title, but as it always happens with art (or perhaps in the case of listeners who do not speak German and are not aware of the story behind the song), many different answers are possible. An object can be viewed as a symbol that corresponds to a variety of meanings; both visually and organically, the form of a small fruit (a chestnut or kastanie, for instance) is proportionate to the elemental structure of a molecule, a planet or a solar system - like the sun or the core of the Earth, its center contains the life-giving, regenerating force of its own existence. An interpretation in this vein might also be suggested by the sunflower on the cover, a miniature sun seeking its fiery reflection in the universe.

Zion is a rich and faceted instrumental, with its apparently diversified ingredients layered in harmony. The rhythm takes over towards the end, giving "flesh and blood" to the pleasant abstraction of the melody. The changeability of the liquid element is rendered beautifully in Wasser, a welcome juncture between experimentation and feeling. The addition of vocals, rippling effects and imperceptible dissonances builds up to a fluid, kaleidoscopic impression that alludes to the volatile atmosphere of Kastanien.

And then comes the surprise - a remix of the song Melancholic Afro (by the Irish band Empire State Human in collaboration with Kraftwerk's Wolfgang Flur). Although the difference in style from the three previous tracks is immediately evident, Leermond's distinctive touch reconstructs and redefines the pre-existing material quite drastically and no less than intriguingly.

Castanea's range and wealth of intrinsic elements is impressive, the sound quality exceptional. In the four songs that comprise it, this mini album manages to make itself a kind of paradigm by condensing the essence of Leermond's musical quest and unique artistic identity.