John Wall. Laptop
Mark Sanders. Percussion/Drums
John Edwards. Double Bass
Mastered By Jacque Beloeil
This work was compiled from free improvisations that were
recorded by Paul Richardson at The Welsh Chapel London 2009
He was also involved, at that time, in co editing and producing the
final stereo mix. This mix would eventually became the foundation
for my later reworking and editing in 2016
The process of systematic reduction is in keeping with John Wall’s general approach to the editing of material, particularly on FGBH, his new collaboration with double bassist John Edwards and percussionist Mark Sanders. i first heard a rough draft of this album in January, when it comprised eight pieces (A–H), lasting 36½ minutes. Even as a draft, it was highly impressive, so it was somewhat alarming to hear that Wall was determined to condense and distill it further. Sure enough, barely a month later, Wall had edited it down to just four pieces (F-G-B-H), now lasting just over 20 minutes. This compositional method of Wall’s – always chipping away, determined to elide anything that might detract from or otherwise obfuscate the music’s pellucidity, clarifying it into a concentrated aural essence – is something that, as i’ve got to know him and his practice better over the last few years, never ceases to amaze me. The courage it requires is all the more apparent having heard that early draft of what would become FGBH. As it happens, my own assessment was that three of those four sections were easily the best (i had doubts about ‘F’), but abandoning ‘C’ – which you’ll have to take from me was a thrilling 2½-minute exercise in distressed timbral tension – was an audacious decision. i’ve often reflected on how Wall’s aggressive, painstaking ‘cooking’ of the material seems a world away from the raw improvisations from which the material sprang. Yet i’ve come to realise how, in fact, it’s a continuation of the improvisation, Wall playing with the material further, gently massaging its plasticity into a final sculptural form.
As far as FGBH is concerned, its final form is utterly dazzling. Those doubts i’d harboured about ‘F’ are now dispelled, it has an extremely palpable sense of both immediacy and proximity, as though the trio were performing just a few feet away. The activity is busy but not fraught, and undergoes a similar shift later on to that which i mentioned above, settling into final repetitions that transition from acoustic to digital at the end. It’s a small shift but it makes one question a great deal about the nature of the sounds being heard. Both ‘G’ and ‘H’ are more heavily restrained, as though subject to considerable external weight compressing the sound. ‘G’ utilises a polarised pitch domain, emphasising very high and low (another Wall fingerprint), before slowly growing into an intense texture full of rapid sonic impacts, both acoustic and synthetic. ‘H’ opts for an indistinct quietness, save for a bell-like chiming, thereafter becoming highly tactile – hyperreal even – the sounds now seeming to hover just inches from our ears. Electronics play a very different role in these two pieces: in ‘G’ they take a back seat, allowing Sanders’ complex elaborations space to move, while in ‘B’ they’re very much more strident, piercing through the percussion and the slapping, plucking and grinding of Edwards’ bass until they assume the foreground – though once again physicality is emphasised, making a semi-imaginary but plausible connection back to the world of acoustic sources. The final few seconds, chattering data punctuated by dull thuds, are pure electrified magic. ‘H’ is both the longest and the most dramatic of the four. Wall makes the displacement of sounds especially striking, keeping bass and percussion in the centre, assigning his electronics to the extremes of left and right, thereby allowing everything to be apparently in the spotlight yet where nothing is crowded out. The dynamic and behavioural range displayed here are enormous, often exhibiting restraint but letting loose in the most frantically exuberant material, all three parts uncannily working in absolute sympathy with one another. Having said that, while the balance of elements is perfect, the actual sense of balance in the music is a precarious one, continually tilting such that it retains (or recaptures) that edge-of-the-seat white heat when the trio were actually improvising. A rare, exhilarating, unmissable treat for the ears, this is easily one of the best things i’ve heard in 2017.
6 drone tracks that make my stomach sick with dread. This is the soundtrack to the documentary that has all the answers to our suffering, just to find out the answers reveal a truth so horrifying and revolting you cannot stand to live in this world anymore from your newly found disgust for humanity. The last few minutes of We All Get It In The End is your death. UntitledKirk