Penfield Mood Organ Music
HOROLOGIUM & MOLJEBKA PVLSE 'Penfield Mood Organ' http://machtmuzik.blogspot.com/ http://www.myspace.com/horologium HOROLOGIUM & MOLJEBKA PVLSE 'Penfield Mood Organ' by Troy Southgate HAVING worked with Poland's Horologium on the recent 'Earthbound' (Old Europa Cafe) album, I can certainly vouch for Grzegorz Siedlecki's impeccable musical credentials. On the other hand, I knew very little about Sweden's Moljebka Pvulse. The man behind the project is Mathias Josefson, a Stockholm-based composer with a prolific array of titles that have been released by - amongst quite a few others - interesting labels such as Cold Meat Industry, Some Place Else, Fin De Siècle Media, Beast of Prey, Topheth Prophet and Drone Records. The album has been lovingly rendered with gray-brown artwork, pock-marked walls and leafy, autumnal imagery and the title is the name of a curious device taken straight from Philip K. Dick's brilliant sci-fi novel, 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep' (1968). The book was later made into an equally-stunning film ('Blade Runner', 1982) featuring Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer and Daryl Hannah. Dialing a 'Penfield' provides someone with the opportunity to artificially stimulate the brain and regulate emotional states. The recipient has a series of choices available to them, such as 'the desire to watch TV, no matter what is on', 'ecstatic sexual bliss' and 'self-accusatory depression'. I think I already know which one I'd choose! Anyway, this collaboration of minds - and moods - contains four tracks and amounts to almost one hour in length. 'The Opening' contains Horologium's repetitious trademark sound and is hugely addictive. The sound of breaking glass and crashing symbols are looped around it as a male voice protests his innocence: 'What are you calling me a murderer for? I've never killed anyone! I don't need to kill anyone!' At just over two minutes, the track is fairly short and it isn't long before 'Mood 001' begins. This time the atmosphere seems more restrained, with long drones and a metallic ringing that just about fills the void. The volume increases slightly and the ominous synth-scapes twist their way through a sea of constantly regenerating ambiance like a harpooned whale. After five minutes the track assumes slightly more of a recognizable structure. The keys of an organ herald a change in the musical climate, as very gradually a hypnotic percussion and diverse vocal samples make way for a constant wall of sound. The tribal percussion returns again later on, but by this time you find that you have been completely engulfed by the endless claustrophobic hissing and intermittent frequencies that explode like bubbles on the surface of a maelstrom. But you have to use your imagination as far as working out which particular mood Greg and Mathias are attempting to induce. It goes through so many complex phases that it is representative of a whole multitude of different moods. The pre-menstrual female has nothing on this. I love the way your thoughts are systematically de-cluttered, allowing your consciousness to dance and weave its way through the environmental fluidity like an amoeba in a bowl of primeval soup. It's like climbing a sacred mountain and never wanting to descend; like immersing yourself in techno-colour dreams that you never want to end. After a brief pause in which the aural scenery is shifted around a little, the sound of approaching horses and spluttering motor cars take us into the uncharted waters of 'Mood 002'. Then after the sound of deep snoring, the light drones are sliced through with horrible laughter, possibly infectious at one time but certainly not when it has been cruelly looped in this unnerving fashion. A dance seems to be taking place in the background, but this is soon absorbed into a ritualistic rustling that is accompanied by an electronic dragging and then a newly-constructed edifice of percussion is mixed with operatic samples. The nasal rasping makes an unwelcome return and eventually we are left with nothing but the perpetual droning. It's hard to tell if it was there all along, perhaps it's all just a question of shifting perceptions? Sounds that come and go like the seasons, directing you towards hitherto unexplored regions of sensual delight. The droning increases, deepening rapidly like a shroud of thick mist on a November hillside. A woman can be heard crying. Melodic snatches are thrown out by a keyboard, but the droning - always droning - is far louder, refusing to subside and act as the accompaniment for this newcomer. But soon the keys are joined by a rhythmic drumming and squealing, although the drones inevitably win through in the end. 'Mood 003' wobbles erratically like someone playing around with a Wendy Carlos tune and there are distinctive 'Bachian' elements here, too. Imagine wandering into a vast, light-strewn cathedral where the bells ring out loudly and a robot choir indulges itself in a gyrating orgy from which the sharp and discordant sounds of grinding metal upon grinding metal can be heard bouncing off the walls like Tudor weaponry upon tonsured skulls. Some people will not like this mood and will want to get off, but it's worth hanging around for a while because the way this track develops is literally breathtaking. Layers are piled up like bodies in a plague-pit and things finally end with someone telling us that it's 'closing time' in broken English. Finally, it's no exaggeration to say that this album is a masterpiece, both conceptually and in actuality. I enjoyed every minute of it and will continue to do so. In fact bedtime will never be the same again. For more information, please visit: http://divineco.records.free.fr
HOROLOGIUM & MOLJEBKA PVLSE 'Penfield Mood Organ' http://machtmuzik.blogspot.com/ http://www.myspace.com/horologium HOROLOGIUM & MOLJEBKA PVLSE 'Penfield Mood Organ' by Troy Southgate HAVING worked with Poland's Horologium on the recent 'Earthbound' (Old Europa Cafe) album, I can certainly vouch for Grzegorz Siedlecki's impeccable musical credentials. On the other hand, I knew very little about Sweden's Moljebka Pvulse. The man behind the project is Mathias Josefson, a Stockholm-based composer with a prolific array of titles that have been released by - amongst quite a few others - interesting labels such as Cold Meat Industry, Some Place Else, Fin De Siècle Media, Beast of Prey, Topheth Prophet and Drone Records. The album has been lovingly rendered with gray-brown artwork, pock-marked walls and leafy, autumnal imagery and the title is the name of a curious device taken straight from Philip K. Dick's brilliant sci-fi novel, 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep' (1968). The book was later made into an equally-stunning film ('Blade Runner', 1982) featuring Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer and Daryl Hannah. Dialing a 'Penfield' provides someone with the opportunity to artificially stimulate the brain and regulate emotional states. The recipient has a series of choices available to them, such as 'the desire to watch TV, no matter what is on', 'ecstatic sexual bliss' and 'self-accusatory depression'. I think I already know which one I'd choose! Anyway, this collaboration of minds - and moods - contains four tracks and amounts to almost one hour in length. 'The Opening' contains Horologium's repetitious trademark sound and is hugely addictive. The sound of breaking glass and crashing symbols are looped around it as a male voice protests his innocence: 'What are you calling me a murderer for? I've never killed anyone! I don't need to kill anyone!' At just over two minutes, the track is fairly short and it isn't long before 'Mood 001' begins. This time the atmosphere seems more restrained, with long drones and a metallic ringing that just about fills the void. The volume increases slightly and the ominous synth-scapes twist their way through a sea of constantly regenerating ambiance like a harpooned whale. After five minutes the track assumes slightly more of a recognizable structure. The keys of an organ herald a change in the musical climate, as very gradually a hypnotic percussion and diverse vocal samples make way for a constant wall of sound. The tribal percussion returns again later on, but by this time you find that you have been completely engulfed by the endless claustrophobic hissing and intermittent frequencies that explode like bubbles on the surface of a maelstrom. But you have to use your imagination as far as working out which particular mood Greg and Mathias are attempting to induce. It goes through so many complex phases that it is representative of a whole multitude of different moods. The pre-menstrual female has nothing on this. I love the way your thoughts are systematically de-cluttered, allowing your consciousness to dance and weave its way through the environmental fluidity like an amoeba in a bowl of primeval soup. It's like climbing a sacred mountain and never wanting to descend; like immersing yourself in techno-colour dreams that you never want to end. After a brief pause in which the aural scenery is shifted around a little, the sound of approaching horses and spluttering motor cars take us into the uncharted waters of 'Mood 002'. Then after the sound of deep snoring, the light drones are sliced through with horrible laughter, possibly infectious at one time but certainly not when it has been cruelly looped in this unnerving fashion. A dance seems to be taking place in the background, but this is soon absorbed into a ritualistic rustling that is accompanied by an electronic dragging and then a newly-constructed edifice of percussion is mixed with operatic samples. The nasal rasping makes an unwelcome return and eventually we are left with nothing but the perpetual droning. It's hard to tell if it was there all along, perhaps it's all just a question of shifting perceptions? Sounds that come and go like the seasons, directing you towards hitherto unexplored regions of sensual delight. The droning increases, deepening rapidly like a shroud of thick mist on a November hillside. A woman can be heard crying. Melodic snatches are thrown out by a keyboard, but the droning - always droning - is far louder, refusing to subside and act as the accompaniment for this newcomer. But soon the keys are joined by a rhythmic drumming and squealing, although the drones inevitably win through in the end. 'Mood 003' wobbles erratically like someone playing around with a Wendy Carlos tune and there are distinctive 'Bachian' elements here, too. Imagine wandering into a vast, light-strewn cathedral where the bells ring out loudly and a robot choir indulges itself in a gyrating orgy from which the sharp and discordant sounds of grinding metal upon grinding metal can be heard bouncing off the walls like Tudor weaponry upon tonsured skulls. Some people will not like this mood and will want to get off, but it's worth hanging around for a while because the way this track develops is literally breathtaking. Layers are piled up like bodies in a plague-pit and things finally end with someone telling us that it's 'closing time' in broken English. Finally, it's no exaggeration to say that this album is a masterpiece, both conceptually and in actuality. I enjoyed every minute of it and will continue to do so. In fact bedtime will never be the same again. For more information, please visit: http://divineco.records.free.fr