Lothar Ohlmeier - bass clarinet, Isambard Khroustaliov - modular synthesizer & computer, Rudi Fischerlehner - drums
“Describe in single words only the good things that come into your mind ...”
The hypertide is real, so is Kiribati. In our collective
somnabulism we've managed to create a situation where a low lying
atoll in the Pacific will soon be flooded by the polar ice we've
managed to melt in part by uploading photos to Instagram. A real
life desert island paradise submereged by a virtual tide of
The effects of the hypertide are however neither limited in dimensionality, nor assuaged by the imminent dissapearance of Kiribati. The hypertide will rage onwards drowning both the real and the virtual in what the philosopher and computer scientist Jaron Lanier has described as 'a vast pointilist spew' of platform sterilised media that has been robbed of any history or culture through which it might once have had meaning.
This flood of meaninglessness that is perpetuated by the statistics of likes, shares and playcounts on social media, is perhaps most heavily courted by the world of music. Beseiged by the 'wisdom of the crowd' that promised to make sense of digital music's post-Napster / ‘all music is free on the internet' ubiquity, music culture's diversity is now being strangled by the interests of venture capital, leaving many of its most idiosyncratic practitioners unable to make a living from their work.
And yet the relationship between music and computation once had a very different prospect. Fuelled by the experiments and visions of the 20th century, from jazz's exploration of the creative possibilities of improvisation to the lyrical use of emerging electric instruments and recording devices in pop and dance music production and the formal and syntactic exploration of early computers by classically trained composers in search of new sonorities, their once existed a wild optimism surrounding the use of new technology in music.
the opening track (...) carpets of sound by electronic artist
Khroustaliov hum out of the depth, dark and intense,
surrounding you and pressing into the pit of your stomach.
While Fischerlehner's drums keep triggering little avalanches,
he makes the cymbals sing so that they harmonize perfectly
with the electronics. Ohlmeier's bass clarinet brings
pessimistic and intense melodies to light.
a time when free jazz explored the new possibilities of
improvisation and emerging technology suggested a wildly
optimistic future... sound truly unlike anything else.
Kris Needs, Electronic Sound
A formidable interlocking of ideas, resulting in a type of improvised post-jazz bestowed with a futuristic trim. In the moments when all three musicians are playing together, the unity of purpose is frightening, the boundaries between Britton’s synths, Ohlmeier’s resonant clarinet and the especially intense quiet cymbal work almost impossible to discern, not unlike a colourblind person hopelessly trying to identify a specific colour.
Mat Smith, Further