Buscar:bloedneus

The first LP by Bloedneus & de Snuitkever, MILLI MILLE. Finally on wax, it’s Lukas De Clerck’s musical vehicle for his explorations with the aulos, that ancient reed instrument that mainly satyrs and archeological enthusiasts found beguiling. Equipped with his handmade pipes and the artful sense of devotion of a true modern-day aulete, De Clerck has dug deep into the technical and cultural peculiarities of this long-silenced instrument, paying it the kind of attention and mindfulness that Marsyas the satyr so lacked when he challenged Apollo and his lyre to that ill-fated musical match. But beyond merely resuscitating an ancient cult, De Clerck as Bloedneus gives the aulos a different kind of renaissance where its penetrating qualities are expanded and expounded to effects worth every nosebleed, paving new grounds in these practices of old.

MILLI MILLE hints at mysteries universal to humans of yore, present and morrow, like a Joseph Campbellesque recounting of transcendental journeys through drones and extra reverb. Elegiac modes encounter pastoral vibes that are punctuated by sly baroque flourishes, all pointing to the timelessness of the aulos’s sound - one can easily imagine its power of enlightenment through many ages. Yet in MILLI MILLE, an insistence on the fickleness of the instrument surfaces through disorienting, perception-shifting blasts and a compulsion to push the aulos to its fullest and most destabilizing potential. This is the flavor that Bloedneus & de Snuitkever imbues into that dormant canon, one that permeates the atmosphere long after the last note puts an abrupt end to these vibrations. The satyr’s song rings on, leaving the air abuzz with a timeless pulse that holds the promise of sounds still to be unearthed.

Oorsprong is a tube, a line in a forest, a sound sculpture. Acoustics to be revealed. Activated by entering, it becomes a giant flute producing a tone that is so low, the body crashes into waves of pure pressure instead of sound. Untranslatable energy. CERCHI CERCHI by Lukas De Clerck (FKA: Bloedneus & de Snuitkever) is a quest in a forest to find traces of that untranslatable sound, its impact, its imprint, its memory. A hide and seek in which the body is concealed in the instrument, becoming its second voice, hidden but exposed.


I
whistling, organ pipe, voice
A whistle, a whisper, a play of breath. Echoes of a low pulse, colliding into each other.
Party in the background, a coach blows a whistle, a haunting scream echoes the whistling from inside, kids returning from a party.

II
voice, whistling
To give away your voice, a gesture. The initiative for an introduction.
Birds chirping, an F16 piercing through the sky.

III
kaval
A circular breath gently caresses a line of circles, making its surface ringing.
Birds chirping, voices of kids, kids shouting, the door of Oorsprong closes.

IV
oorsprong, two bass recorders
When tuning becomes rhythm, when rhythm becomes a beat of breath. A beat underneath the beating of tones. Feedback of flutes.
The clanging of 2 bass recorders, the ventilator of Oorsprong is turning on.

Brazilian experimental multi-instrumentalist Carla Boregas follows plates for Bokeh Versions and Hive Mind with a ghostly set of deep listening electronics that plays like a symphony for an imagined woodwind orchestra.

Carla Boregas is best known from her tenure in São Paulo's genre-bending experimental post-punk scene, playing in long-running outfit Rakta as well as other related offshoots. Her solo material has been knottier to unpick, here developing ideas from a collection of unfinished fragments and notebook scribbles exploring the possibility of finding a wind instrument that could be played collectively by several musicians. Coinciding with the pandemic, however, she soon realised the inherent risks involved with sharing breath and so the concept took a different direction, with added resonance.

Boregas developed a synthetic alternative, layering vocals and environmental recordings to suggest wind instrumentation without attempting to mimic it. The sounds here are airy, but rarely diegetic - on the title track, Boregas uses analog arpeggios and plucked, sustained tones to approximate the kosmische world of Ash Ra Tempel or more recently Emeralds, as if trapped in a wind tunnel, moved forward by an unseen force.

There's a whisper of the ancient past that harmonises with Wojciech Rusin's speculative medieval gasps, and Bloedneus & de Snuitkever's severely underheard ‘Milli Mille’, an examination of the ancient Greek aulos. On ’Grafia Do Invisível' the sound is completely different again, but the concept remains, using precise analog drones and minuscule timbral shifts to imitate the character of a wind instrument and simultaneously harmonise with the deep listening meditations of Éliane Radigue and Kali Malone.

A voice enters the frame on 'Sopro’, chopped into deviated gulps and syllables, creating a language that's unfamiliar and percussive. The use of breath is subtle, and vocalisations criss-cross between synths and faint whistles, forming an expression that's different from its predecessors but intrinsically interlinked. This is where ‘Pena Ao Mar’ excels, by viewing breath and its application in electronic music from multiple angles simultaneously. Fans of Lucy Duncombe, Lucrecia Dalt, or Sarah Davachi - don't miss this one.