Highlights: b1
An album of 3 tracks, 25
minutes and song titles like “a1”, “a2” and “b1” is surely (post)minimalism
taken to its near extreme point. However, wait till you hear the actual sounds –
challenging the usual suspects like Brian Eno and renowned minimalists like
Steve Reich and Philip Glass. Pretty, suppressed and understated soundscapes,
barely rising above the level when background music stops being background
music and becomes a self-sufficient work of art.
But that, of course, is
kind of the whole point of minimalism. To barely exist, to barely register, but
to somehow remain complete and effective. And Stare does qualify. It doesn’t really overwhelm you the way Nils
Frahm’s full-bloodied minimalism of Felt
did last year, but both Arnalds and Frahm surely know how to forge beauty out
of the most quiet and unobtrusive sort of nothingness.
Considering the two men
involved, Stare is part beautiful
bleak ambience, part beautiful tinkling piano. Exactly what you would expect. Needless
to say, it’s all gorgeous stuff – but only if you are prepared for it. It’s a
slow, meditative mood you have to enter in order to appreciate all the
subtleties of this music, brimming with loveliest, airiest piano notes and
sound effects. Not forgetting the violin appearing in the second half of “b2”,
of course, that brings the whole thing to a pleasantly subdued climax.
There’s a rather
significant moment when the piano-less “b2” stops abruptly and gives way to
Frahm’s raindrop-like playing. It’s a moment of utter magic, and it makes you
notice the unexpected break – effectively telling you that what you’ve just
heard did actually happen. Honestly, I wasn’t being cynical there. In a
post-intellectual, post-human way, I quite possibly understood and definitely
enjoyed Stare.
7/10
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