Ravedeath, 1972 / Dropped Pianos
Tim Hecker
It’s easy to see the
favoritism playing out between consumers and entertainment technology these
days. High-definition televisions and three-dimensional movie theatres have
quickly become universal quality standards whereas, in the same breath, lousily
ripped mp3s and torrents have become the musical norm. The record industry is
in a state of collapse – sure, we all know that – but so is the value of music
as art.
No album points this
out as hypnotically as Ravedeath, 1972. Using a two-day church organ session as
foundation, Tim Hecker took these twelve compositions to dust, disassembling
their solemn appeal (available on the companion release Dropped Pianos) and
battering them with serrated, digital fuzz. Despite such a minimal palette,
what blossoms from Hecker’s decay is nothing short of earthshaking; a darkly
persuasive tapestry of abused sounds rising for redemption.
Of course, all of
the loose music-versus-culture theory stirred up by Hecker’s approach would
mean nothing without his melodic spare parts assembling into something
compelling. And luckily for us, Ravedeath, 1972’s conflicted heart is downright
intoxicating.
1 comment:
This was my winter album from the start of this year.
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