On Phonophani's fourth outing for the always intrepid Rune Grammofon label, mainman Espen Sommer Eide pulls out all the stops to produce what might be euphemistically termed "anti-IDM". Kreken doesn't break along any easy stylistic fault lines, however — this is far from Richard D. James going all drill 'n' bass to make some silly point (or show how he can aurally rape his machines), or the latest laptop "artiste" showing off his command of software. No, this is Eide understanding that rules are made to be broken, that genre often becomes meaningless, and the very nature of sound is something pliable, not to be confined to stasis or any notion of entropy. In Eide's hands, basically he adopts the Burroughs-ian stance of everything being permitted.
Kreken is, in many ways, a baffling listen. It is by no means an easy listen, as Eide practically takes all forms of "rhythm" and "processing" and stands them on their collective heads. What Kreken does is challenge you, reorients your ears, and insists you compromise any modes generally known and standardized; hell, even in "experimental" music, boundaries need be pushed as "accessibility" becomes a mere tangential component. Take "Kvaale li", which starts off with an oddly syncopated rhythm designed seemingly from a symphony of ping-pong balls, from which Eide concocts a mind-boggling phantasia of true broken beats, half-cocked melody and intense off-kilterism. "Mendel" discards rhythm altogether to mine a tarpit of warped orchestra, strangled fugue, and a wordless chorus straight out of some parallel 18th century dimension. The title track similarly seems to play havoc with notions of "classical music", rendering such standbys as things playful yet alien, the (genre) bride stripped bare to reveal a graceless, if gleaming, automaton.
Eide confounds expectations; that much is certain. This is electronic music ignorant of movements, rigidity, or composure. Beats, if you could call them that, become erratic and unwieldy; tonal gestures seem spasmodic even when calm. And when you think you have a grip on where he's going, Eide will upset your apple cart with gently unfurled noise dappling the edges of his creations, as on the starstruck "Nold." After four unique recordings, Phonophani might very well be an acquired taste for some, but at least Eide is consistent in his inconsistencies: the aural face might be unfamiliar but it's always him.
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