Lucio Capece/Marc Baron - My Trust In You (lossless)
Lossless AIFF (16bit/44.1kHz)
Two electroacoustic improvisers and composers--Lucio Capece on reeds, analog synths, effects, field recordings, drums machines, speakers in motion, and Marc Baron on field recordings and analog devices--developed these 6 extraordinary recordings that blend motion, perspective, sound and noise, and concrete references in a mystifying and mesmerizing journey in sound.
For CD format, go to this page.
1. Believe in Brutus (6:07)
2. Black soils- museum without statues (6:48)
3. Self-centered interpretation of (9:58)
4. Ultra-Violet as everyoneÂ´s inner blackest black (9:58)
5. Kneel for your psychoacoustic rights (11:43)
6. Snowblind (7:17)
7. of the natural selection- Yurei (5:10)
(released August 20, 2018)
Lucio Capece: bass clarinet, slide saxophone, analog synthesizer and filter, drum machines, double looper, equalizers in feedback, regular and telephone field recordings, mini speakers in movement
Marc Baron: field recordings, tape recorders and other analog devices
recorded and mixed by Lucio Capece and Marc Baron
mastered by Taku Unami
design and photography by Yuko Zama
produced by Jon Abbey
Michael Rosenstein, Dusted
The collective results of this collaboration between Lucio Capece and Marc Baron seem inevitable. While Capece and Baron both came to initial attention as reed players, their respective practices have increasingly focused on the resonances and spatial dispersion of sound. Capece has incorporated the use of feedback, sine waves, oscillators and distributed and suspended speakers into his music while Baron has mostly eschewed the use of saxophone altogether, instead extracting his music from field recordings and the distressed and decayed sound of analog tape and analog electronic devices. The cover of My Trust in You lists the core elements of this recording with Capece on bass clarinet, slide saxophone, analog synthesizer and filter, drum machines, double looper, equalizers in feedback, regular and telephone field recordings, mini speakers in movement and Baron on field recordings, tape recorders and other analog devices. While those may be the components the two utilize, it gives little hint as to the absorbing results.
The crackles and field recording snippet that opens “Believe in Brutus” lulls the listener for a moment before breaking off into slowed and distorted tapes, dusky bass and shredded radio grabs. The piece lists and jolts from there with stark jump cuts between recorded bird sounds, crunching sputters and wafts of brooding melody, ending with a hard cut to silence. Over the course of the next six pieces, Baron and Capece dive deep into the strategies laid out on the opener. Quavering bells, faltering mechanical sounds, clicks and brittle snaps, the sound of clattering cymbals get panned across the stereo field. The two use the stark breaks between pieces as a framing mechanism, serving to divide the recording into sonic chapters.
The two revel in confounding expectations, setting up stuttering rhythms which get toyed with, hinting at pulse and momentum and then ripped apart. “Self-centered interpretation of” utilizes a dusky, melodic line that gets layered and colored with undercurrents of abraded rumble. “Kneel for your psychoacoustic rights,” weaves together low-end drone, static and distorted recordings and keening whines into a slow seething sonic mix shot through with constantly shifting detail. Here again, the two adroitly utilize the stereo field to immerse the listener then slams in to the next cut, “Snowblind,” an engulfing, looped and layered maelstrom of hiss and static that continues to build density and intensity over the course of seven minutes until it breaks into distorted tape swirl. There’s no telling if this collaboration was a one-shot or if it will lead to an ongoing affair, but like each release by Capece and Baron, it is an enthralling listen that reveals new facets of their musical visions.
Jack Davidson, Noise Not Music
While solo improvisational albums can be, and often are, great, the true potential of freely played and electroacoustic music is realized when two or more artists work together, exploring the way each individual’s contributions interact and coexist. No label supports this argument better than Erstwhile, whose extensive roster of duo records spans a staggering range of creative combinations. My Trust in You, a new disc from reductionist composer Lucio Capece and tape improviser Marc Baron, employs an ambitious arsenal of textures and elements, making use of everything from environmental recordings to noise-encrusted tape loops to disarming passages without any sound at all. Opening track “Believe in Brutus” begins the record in a disorienting fashion; it is here that Capece’s and Baron’s interplay is at its most whimsical and kinetic, with crackling chunks of sound quickly rising, falling, and fighting against interjections of bird chirps and complete silence. In contrast, “Black soils- museums without statues” begins a movement toward more patient, droning structures. It’s a trend that continues throughout the remainder of the tracks, culminating with centerpiece “Kneel for your psychoacoustic rights,” whose cathartic beauty is an unexpected treat after a roiling start. My Trust in You initially seems to be among the more immediate of Erstwhile’s releases, but soon reveals that many more layers are in need of uncovering.
Brian Olewnick, Just Outside
This is the first appearance of either musician on the Erstwhile label, and, at least as far as this listener is concerned, the results are a little surprising (and excellent). I'd admit that in Baron's case, "surprise" shouldn't really be an option as the relatively small number of prior releases under his name certainly gave one little reason to expect this or that general approach--they varied quite widely. Capece's sets, in recent years at least, on record and in concert (I've been fortunate to witness events of his in both Paris and Sokołowsko, Poland) have often (not always) been very quiet affairs, both in acoustic contexts (on bass clarinet and other reeds) and with regard to his floating speaker installations. So there were at least a couple of aspects of 'My Trust In You' that were a little surprising: one is the relatively aggressive nature of many of the constructions and, secondly, how often (if subtly) drones or pulses were present.
Seven tracks, Baron credited with tapes, field recordings and various analog devices while Capece wields a vast array: bass clarinet, slide saxophone, analog synth and filter, drum machines, double looper, equalizers in feedback, regular and telephone field recordings, mini speakers in movement, the latter I take to be his airborne mini-speakers. It begins abruptly with stark vividness ('Believe in Brutus'; the recording is replete with odd track titles), recalling 60s-70s tape collage music, but with massive depth and shifts of focus, from distorted radio transmissions to mumbled (looped) verbiage to colorful swatches of synthetic tone. It's dizzying, very in-your-face like a slap, bracing. With 'Black soils - museum without statues', we seem to enter a Lambkinesque world, murky, with iterated, cyclic sounds (noise), slurred words. Midway through, beneath thin cymbals, a grimy drone emerges briefly, is swallowed by electronic flutters, dissipating into a raft of clicks and clatters--then chaos ensues with much louder cymbals, backward tape, loud yet distortedly muted chimes and more. Very complex, extremely immersive. But things shift to a rather more approachable form in the following cut, 'Self-centered interpretation of', where we enter a relatively calm but still simmering soundscape that sounds like something Fennesz might have come up with had he stayed on track--sandy drones, multiply-layered horns--while the ensuing piece rotates around an intense, mechanical rhythm (or two superimposed), before splintering into a public space with footsteps and hazy voices. Different rhythms appear, rapid and flickering, with high-pitched squeals. Given the presence of elements such as the pulses and extended tones, the works are reasonably approachable; probably one of the better recent Erstwhiles to proffer to someone interested in dipping his/her toe into the general vicinity. The remaining tracks branch out further, though really always maintaining more than enough fabric to pull the listener along, to sustain a thick undergirding of sound--no silences to be found here, just surge (nonstop in 'Snowblind', until an odd, loopy gunshot-laden conclusion).
A wild ride, not what I expected but eminently worthwhile, a very fine addition to the catalogs of both Capece and Baron. Hop in.