So, I know that this Web log has a lot to offer, and I also know that many of you rely on it for not just humorous tales and clever quips, but also current events and dog-training tips. This creates a huge responsibility for me to make sure I’m not leaving you all down in the dumps — or the doldrums. Since I’ve not really been going to many concerts over here in Madrid (and the ones I have seen — if you want to hear about the lead singer’s mullet, then maybe you can just leave, wise guy) Tin Speaker has seen a dearth of the type of concert review that used to rule these virtual pages like the Tyrannosaurus Rex ruled the late Cretaceous.
Instead of concert reviews, I’m just going to talk about some music that I’ve been listening to, lately. Right now I’ve got some Reinhardt Voigt going on, from the Kompakt: Total 7 compilation. I’ve been listening a lot to the Kompakt: Total series lately, because it’s so damn good. I’m not a huge fan of the techno that your one clubhead friend digs (Deadmau5, et al), but that’s mostly just because I like the Kompakt artists so much more. For some reason, while the repetitiveness of the club-banger style (and the inevitable beat drop) always gets old to me fairly quickly, the (perhaps even more repetitive) minimal style always feels more engrossing and natural. While the Kompakt kompilations (ha) are great, the gold standard remains the Field’s From Here We Go Sublime. I wasn’t sure if this record would age well, but two years later I have to say that I listen to it more than perhaps any other album from 2007. More than any other, it has made me really glad that I brought my Bose headphones to Spain. The album’s subtleties and intricacies are what makes it still interesting after dozens of listens — without the slight textural variations, volume adjustments, &c, the repetitiveness of the album might begin to wear on the listener.
Now, the Field (a.k.a. Axel Willner) doesn’t break wholly from traditional techno. The beat still drops, sort of — but it’s so much more thrilling than the usual huge build-up and release, mostly because the lead-in is so understated. I guess Willner has mad confidence in his skill set, because it must be hard to resist the urge to push the volume to an obvious crescendo until it’s just so obvious that the bass is about to come in that when it does, the result is a veritable anticlimax. Even many of Willner’s labelmates commit the same common offense of creating predictable songs. But Willner’s songs are just masterpieces of restraint, and for that I am glad. Because Sublime sounds like practically nothing else — and because what it does resemble, it outshines — I’m still listening to it two years later.
Maybe tomorrow we’ll talk about Ennio Morricone, because I was listening to that dude’s soundtracks for like five days straight this past week.
