Jim O'Rourke - 2019 - Steamroom 45

 

Steamroom ‎– none

Steamroom 45 is one of the more restrained entries in Jim O'Rourke's long-running Steamroom series, yet it quietly demonstrates many of the qualities that make these releases so rewarding. The single composition, "sigaretstraat," does not announce itself with an imposing wall of sound or a dramatic conceptual framework. Instead, it unfolds through gradual shifts in tone, resonance and spatial perception, allowing the listener to settle into an environment that seems to exist independently of ordinary musical time.

The title immediately raises questions. "Sigaretstraat," literally "Cigarette Street" in Dutch, sounds like the name of an ordinary place, perhaps a quiet side road passed without much notice. O'Rourke offers no explanation, leaving the word to function less as a narrative clue than as a point of departure. Like many of his titles, it encourages imagination without directing it. The music never attempts to describe a location, but it does create the sensation of moving through an unfamiliar space whose character gradually reveals itself through observation rather than spectacle.

The composition begins with a handful of sustained electronic tones balanced across an unusually open stereo field. Nothing dominates the foreground. Every frequency seems carefully measured, allowing broad areas of silence to remain active participants in the recording. Rather than treating empty space as the absence of sound, O'Rourke shapes it into part of the structure itself. The result is a piece that feels spacious without becoming empty.

As the recording develops, additional layers begin appearing almost unnoticed. A faint harmonic shimmer settles behind the central tones. Low frequencies slowly gather beneath the surface, giving the music greater physical presence without increasing its apparent volume. Tiny fluctuations in pitch prevent long notes from becoming static. Everything remains in motion, but the movement occurs at a pace that encourages careful listening instead of immediate reaction.

One of O'Rourke's greatest strengths throughout the Steamroom series has been his ability to make repetition feel alive. "Sigaretstraat" demonstrates this beautifully. Certain harmonic relationships remain present for extended periods, yet they never sound exactly the same twice. A slight adjustment in tuning, a newly introduced overtone or a change in spatial balance quietly transforms the emotional character of familiar material. The composition never depends upon dramatic contrast because every subtle alteration carries genuine expressive weight.

The recording also possesses an unusually tactile quality. Some textures resemble softly vibrating metal, while others suggest distant electrical systems humming somewhere beyond the edge of hearing. None of these impressions become literal field recordings. O'Rourke remains deliberately ambiguous about the origin of his sounds, allowing electronic synthesis and environmental suggestion to merge into something that feels strangely physical without becoming descriptive.

Midway through the piece, harmonic density increases almost imperceptibly. Layers begin overlapping in more complex ways, producing brief moments where consonance and gentle dissonance coexist. These passages never function as climaxes. Instead, they feel like natural consequences of the materials gradually accumulating over time. O'Rourke trusts the listener to notice these changes rather than emphasizing them through sudden shifts in dynamics or texture.

The production remains exceptionally clear throughout. Individual tones retain their identity while contributing to a larger, unified environment. There is remarkable depth within the stereo image, allowing sounds to occupy different distances without ever feeling artificially separated. Listening through headphones reveals delicate activity near the edges of perception, while speakers allow the lower frequencies to interact naturally with the room itself. The recording changes subtly according to its surroundings, making each listening experience feel slightly different.

Perhaps the most satisfying aspect of Steamroom 45 is its quiet confidence. The composition never attempts to justify its duration through constant invention or increasingly elaborate gestures. Instead, it embraces patience as its central principle. Time becomes less about anticipation than about attention. The longer the listener remains inside the piece, the more its internal relationships begin revealing themselves. Earlier passages linger in memory, influencing the meaning of later developments without relying on direct repetition.

Within the broader Steamroom catalog, "sigaretstraat" stands as another example of O'Rourke's remarkable ability to create rich, immersive experiences from the smallest imaginable materials. The piece avoids conventional melody, rhythm and narrative while remaining deeply engaging through its careful handling of texture, resonance and duration. It is music that rewards observation rather than interpretation, inviting the listener to inhabit a slowly changing landscape where every subtle shift matters. What first appears understated gradually becomes intricate, proving once again that O'Rourke's most compelling work often emerges from the patient exploration of sound itself.

Jim O'Rourke - 2020 - Steamroom 47

 Steamroom ‎– none

Steamroom 47 feels like an unusual entry in Jim O'Rourke's sprawling Steamroom series because its point of departure is surprisingly concrete. The single composition, "So You Want to Write a Fugue," begins with Glenn Gould's legendary recording of Bach's Goldberg Variations, though listeners expecting a respectful reinterpretation quickly discover that the source material has been transformed almost beyond recognition. O'Rourke processed Gould's performance through a fast Fourier transform before generating new musical information from the resulting data, allowing Bach, Gould and computer analysis to become starting points for an entirely different composition rather than its destination.

That technical description might suggest an academic exercise, but the finished work sounds remarkably alive. O'Rourke has always been skeptical of experimental music that demonstrates a process without creating an engaging listening experience, and Steamroom 47 avoids that trap completely. Whatever algorithms or analytical procedures were involved disappear behind the music itself. What remains is a slowly evolving landscape where piano-like gestures, electronic tones and spectral textures drift through one another with extraordinary patience.

The opening immediately establishes an atmosphere unlike most of the previous Steamroom releases. Instead of sustained drones occupying the foreground, small piano figures emerge from a haze of electronic activity. They appear briefly, hesitate, then dissolve back into the surrounding environment before another fragment quietly takes their place. These phrases never develop into recognizable melodies, yet they carry enough of the piano's familiar character to suggest a musical memory struggling to remain intact.

Around those scattered notes, O'Rourke builds an intricate web of softly shifting electronic textures. Fine layers of static, blurred harmonic clouds and distant resonances create an unstable background that continually changes shape. The interaction between these elements becomes the true subject of the composition. Piano and electronics never compete with one another. Instead, they continually exchange roles, with one becoming structural while the other supplies atmosphere before quietly reversing those positions again.

The title itself contains O'Rourke's familiar sense of dry humor. "So You Want to Write a Fugue" sounds like the beginning of an instructional manual, but the recording offers no lessons in counterpoint or traditional composition. Instead, it quietly questions what survives when a famous piece of music is reduced to information, transformed through technology and rebuilt into something entirely new. The fugue becomes less an identifiable form than an idea lingering beneath the surface, influencing the music without ever fully revealing itself.

One of the most striking aspects of Steamroom 47 is its balance between precision and uncertainty. Every sound appears carefully placed, yet the composition never feels rigid. Piano tones emerge with different weights and distances, electronic textures drift unpredictably through the stereo image, and harmonic relationships constantly reorganize themselves without obvious repetition. The recording seems to think its way forward rather than following a predetermined route.

The production is exceptionally detailed. Headphones reveal delicate interactions between the piano fragments and surrounding electronic material, while speakers allow the quieter resonances to expand naturally into the room. O'Rourke pays close attention to depth throughout the piece. Sounds rarely occupy the same apparent distance, creating a layered environment where foreground and background continually exchange places. The result feels less like listening to individual instruments than observing different planes of sound passing slowly across one another.

Unlike many algorithmically generated works, Steamroom 47 never celebrates technology for its own sake. The processing remains invisible once the composition begins. What matters is not how the music was created but how convincingly it sustains its own internal world. O'Rourke treats software as another compositional tool rather than the subject of the work, allowing the listener to engage with the finished recording instead of the mechanics behind it.

As the piece continues, familiar relationships quietly dissolve. Piano gestures become increasingly fragmented, electronic textures grow richer, and the distinction between acoustic and synthetic sound gradually loses importance. By the closing minutes, the recording has travelled a considerable distance from its opening without relying on dramatic shifts or obvious structural markers. Transformation occurs through accumulation, with each small adjustment subtly changing everything surrounding it.

Within the Steamroom series, Steamroom 47 occupies a fascinating position because it combines O'Rourke's long-standing interest in systems, composition and electronic sound without allowing any one of those concerns to dominate. The result is thoughtful without becoming theoretical, technically sophisticated without sounding mechanical, and emotionally engaging without resorting to familiar expressive gestures. It is another reminder that O'Rourke's greatest strength lies not in the complexity of his methods but in his ability to turn even the most abstract ideas into compelling experiences of listening.

Jim O'Rourke - 2020 - Steamroom 48

 

 Steamroom ‎– none

Steamroom 48 contains one thirty-eight-minute composition titled “All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace,” borrowing its name from Richard Brautigan’s 1967 poem about an imagined harmony between technology, humanity and nature. That title carries both tenderness and suspicion. Machines are presented as protectors, but being watched is rarely an innocent condition. Jim O’Rourke does not turn the piece into a direct commentary on technology, yet the music holds the same contradiction: electronic sound feels sheltering and threatening, ordered and unstable, intimate and impersonal.

The work begins with a soft cloud of sustained frequencies that seems to hover without a clear center. There is no opening gesture announcing where attention should settle. Several tones coexist at different depths, forming a broad field whose boundaries are difficult to locate. The music feels almost weightless at first, but faint lower movement gradually gives the surface a physical foundation. What initially appears calm begins revealing small disturbances, as though unseen mechanisms are adjusting the environment from somewhere beyond the listener’s reach.

O’Rourke’s electronic compositions often depend upon changes too gradual to register immediately, and Steamroom 48 is especially patient in this regard. A frequency may remain present for several minutes while its surrounding context slowly transforms. A quiet layer entering beneath it can change its apparent pitch, emotional temperature or distance without modifying the original sound itself. The composition develops by continually altering relationships rather than replacing one section with another.

This creates the impression of a system regulating itself. Individual tones appear, stabilize, interact and disappear according to an internal logic that never becomes fully visible. Nothing sounds random, yet the structure remains concealed. The title’s machines seem less like recognizable devices than invisible processes determining balance, pressure and movement. The listener is not shown the machinery but hears the consequences of its operation.

The piece carries unusual warmth for music assembled from such abstract materials. Higher frequencies occasionally gather into luminous harmonies, producing brief openings where the sound appears to widen and brighten. These moments are never presented as resolutions. They remain vulnerable to interference from rougher textures, low vibration and unstable overtones. Beauty is allowed to form, but it is never protected from disruption.

As the recording progresses, the texture becomes denser without turning into a solid wall. O’Rourke preserves separation between layers, allowing each frequency to occupy a distinct plane. Some sounds appear extremely close, almost touching the ear, while others seem placed far behind the central field. This depth gives the work an architectural quality. Rather than moving along a path, the listener seems positioned inside a structure whose walls, ceiling and hidden passages are continually shifting.

There are moments when the electronic tones begin resembling natural phenomena. Soft pulses suggest insects, distant tremors or water moving beneath a surface. Thin high frequencies can evoke wind passing through narrow openings, while deeper layers carry the slow force of weather. None of these impressions become literal scenes. The music keeps nature and machinery in a state of exchange, making it difficult to determine where one ends and the other begins.

That ambiguity connects directly with Brautigan’s title. His imagined union of computers, animals and landscape could be understood as hopeful or quietly alarming. O’Rourke’s composition maintains the same uncertainty without illustrating the poem. Its electronic environment can feel protective, surrounding the listener with carefully balanced sound, but it can also feel watchful. Every empty space seems monitored by a faint signal, every silence occupied by something just below audibility.

The most intense passages arrive through concentration rather than volume. Several frequencies draw close together, producing narrow harmonic friction that tightens the space around them. The effect is physical but controlled. O’Rourke avoids using harshness as spectacle. Instead, discomfort develops from prolonged exposure to sounds that remain slightly unresolved. The longer they continue, the more urgently the ear waits for them to shift, though their eventual movement may be almost imperceptible.

When the density begins to recede, the earlier openness does not fully return. The listener has already become aware of the activity hidden inside the quieter surfaces. Even sparse passages now feel populated by traces, resonances and remembered tones. Steamroom 48 quietly changes the scale at which listening occurs. By reducing obvious events, it makes microscopic movement feel substantial.

The piece was recorded during April 2020, and its enclosed, observant atmosphere is difficult to separate from that moment, though the work does not require a historical explanation. Its solitude feels concentrated rather than empty. Technology becomes both the means of construction and the environment being examined, while the absence of recognizable human performance makes the smallest instability seem expressive.

Steamroom 48 does not offer the comfort of a machine functioning perfectly or the drama of one breaking down. It remains somewhere between those conditions, operating continuously while exposing slight fluctuations in its order. “All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace” becomes an extended study of trust: trust in sustained sound, in unseen structure and in the possibility that restraint can hold attention without revealing its purpose. The composition watches quietly, surrounds patiently and never explains whether its grace is loving, mechanical or something suspended between the two.

Jim O'Rourke - 2020 - Steamroom 50

 

 Steamroom ‎– none

Steamroom 50 marks a subtle turning point within Jim O'Rourke's ongoing Steamroom series. By the time this release appeared, the project had already grown into an immense archive of electronic studies, film pieces, extended drones and compositional experiments that resisted easy categorization. Rather than feeling like the fiftieth installment of a series celebrating its own longevity, Steamroom 50 continues with remarkable understatement. The music behaves as though it has no interest in milestones. It simply resumes the quiet investigation that has been unfolding across dozens of releases, allowing another long-form composition to explore questions of texture, duration and perception.

The single piece, "Deferential," immediately suggests restraint through its title. To be deferential is to step aside, to give space, to avoid forcing one's presence upon others. That attitude seems embedded in the recording itself. The composition never dominates the listener or insists upon immediate attention. Instead, it occupies the room gradually, establishing a delicate balance of sustained tones, soft electronic movement and carefully measured silence. Rather than demanding concentration, it patiently earns it.

The opening minutes feel unusually transparent. A handful of harmonically related tones emerge from silence with almost no visible beginning. They appear less like notes being played than conditions slowly coming into existence. Each sound is allowed enough room to develop its own resonance before another quietly joins it. O'Rourke has always demonstrated extraordinary control over spatial relationships, and here that ability becomes one of the work's defining qualities. Every layer seems suspended at a different depth, creating the impression of moving through an environment rather than listening to a conventional composition.

As the piece develops, the harmonic field slowly expands without becoming noticeably denser. Additional frequencies appear almost invisibly, changing the emotional color of the recording through accumulation rather than contrast. A brighter overtone quietly shifts the atmosphere. A faint low-frequency vibration gives previously weightless passages a new physical presence. None of these changes arrive dramatically. They simply become part of the landscape until the listener eventually realizes that the environment has been transformed.

The title also encourages another interpretation. "Deferential" can imply humility, but it can also describe relationships between different voices. Throughout the recording, no single sound attempts to dominate another. Individual tones continually make room for one another, overlapping with remarkable patience while preserving their own identities. The composition behaves almost like a conversation where every participant understands when to speak and when to remain silent.

This sense of balance prevents the music from becoming static despite its deliberate pacing. Long sustained sounds remain alive through tiny fluctuations in tuning and texture. Close listening reveals subtle beating patterns, gentle harmonic interference and minute shifts in resonance that continually reshape the apparent stillness. O'Rourke understands that absolute stability quickly becomes lifeless. By allowing microscopic movement to persist within every layer, he keeps the recording quietly animated from beginning to end.

One of the most striking qualities of Steamroom 50 is its refusal to separate electronic sound from physical experience. Certain passages resemble softly vibrating metal or distant electrical infrastructure, while others suggest air pressure changing inside a large architectural space. None of these impressions become literal recordings of real places. Instead, electronic synthesis gradually acquires physical characteristics until the distinction between artificial and environmental sound begins to dissolve.

The production remains exceptionally clear throughout. Every frequency occupies its own carefully judged position without becoming artificially isolated from the surrounding material. The stereo image feels deep rather than wide, encouraging the listener to perceive distance as much as direction. Good speakers reveal the way low frequencies quietly support the brighter harmonic activity above them, while headphones expose countless tiny interactions hidden within the sustained textures.

Unlike works that rely upon obvious structural divisions, Steamroom 50 unfolds as one continuous process. There are no chapters, dramatic interruptions or sudden reversals. Earlier passages quietly influence later ones through memory rather than repetition. Sounds that disappear continue shaping perception long after they have faded, making the composition feel cumulative without depending on recurring themes or motifs.

Repeated listening gradually reveals how carefully the work has been assembled. What first appears minimal slowly becomes intricate as relationships between different layers emerge with greater clarity. Harmonic movement that initially seemed almost nonexistent begins to define the emotional direction of the entire piece. The recording rewards familiarity not by revealing hidden events but by sharpening awareness of changes that were always present.

Steamroom 50 ultimately embodies the quality suggested by its title. It never raises its voice or competes for attention. Instead, it trusts that careful listening will uncover its complexity over time. O'Rourke transforms restraint into a compositional principle, demonstrating once again that the smallest adjustments in texture, resonance and duration can produce remarkably rich experiences. Within the ever-growing Steamroom catalog, "Deferential" stands as another beautifully measured study in patient listening, proving that quiet confidence often leaves the deepest impression.

Kassel Jaeger & Jim O’Rourke - (2017) Wakes On Cerulean LP

 

Editions Mego ‎– Editions Mego 223

Wakes on Cerulean brings together two musicians whose individual catalogs have long explored the boundaries between composition, sound art and electronic abstraction. François Bonnet, recording as Kassel Jaeger, approaches sound with the ears of someone deeply immersed in electroacoustic music and the traditions surrounding the Groupe de Recherches Musicales. Jim O'Rourke arrives from an equally broad history that stretches from free improvisation and noise to carefully arranged pop records and long-form electronic composition. Rather than emphasizing those different backgrounds, this collaboration dissolves them. By the time the music settles into its own pace, it becomes nearly impossible to determine where one artist's decisions end and the other's begin.

The title immediately creates a vivid image. "Cerulean" evokes a particular shade of blue associated with open skies and calm water, while "wakes" suggests the trails left behind by moving boats or the gradual process of awakening. Both meanings remain present throughout the recording. The music seems to drift across an enormous, open surface while continually leaving delicate traces behind itself. Nothing feels fixed. Every sound appears to create a small disturbance before disappearing into the larger environment.

The release is divided into two extended pieces, "Wakes on Cerulean A" and "Wakes on Cerulean B." Rather than functioning as separate compositions with sharply contrasting identities, they feel like two phases of the same extended landscape. The first establishes the broad vocabulary of the collaboration, while the second quietly shifts its balance toward darker and more ambiguous territory.

The opening side begins with remarkable delicacy. Soft electronic tones hover without obvious rhythm or melody, joined by faint textures that seem to emerge from somewhere beyond the edge of hearing. The recording never announces itself through dramatic gestures. Instead, it quietly assembles an environment where every small adjustment becomes meaningful. A sustained frequency slowly brightens. A distant harmonic layer drifts forward before dissolving again. Tiny details accumulate until the apparent stillness reveals itself to be filled with constant movement.

One of the album's greatest strengths is its refusal to separate electronic sound from the physical world. Certain textures resemble wind moving across water, distant insects or the hum of unseen machinery, yet none of these impressions ever become literal field recordings. The listener remains suspended between natural and artificial sound, unable to confidently identify where one ends and the other begins. That uncertainty gives the music much of its emotional depth.

Side B continues this approach while subtly changing the emotional temperature. The harmonies grow deeper, the spaces between sounds become more charged and the recording develops a stronger sense of internal pressure. It never becomes aggressive, but there is a quiet tension beneath its surface that distinguishes it from the openness of the first half. The collaboration demonstrates remarkable patience, allowing these changes to unfold over long stretches of time rather than marking them through obvious structural divisions.

Both artists share an extraordinary sensitivity to duration. The music never feels interested in reaching a climax or delivering resolution. Instead, it encourages prolonged attention to relationships between sounds. Harmonic overtones slowly interact, sustained frequencies shift almost imperceptibly and previously unnoticed textures gradually become central simply because the surrounding environment has changed. Time is measured not by events but by perception itself.

The production deserves particular attention because of its extraordinary sense of depth. Every layer occupies a carefully judged position within the stereo field while remaining part of a unified whole. Nothing feels artificially isolated. Sounds breathe together, allowing the recording to maintain remarkable clarity even during its densest passages. Headphones reveal countless tiny interactions hidden beneath the surface, while speakers allow lower frequencies to expand naturally into the listening room.

What makes Wakes on Cerulean especially satisfying is how completely it avoids becoming a display of individual personalities. Many collaborations invite listeners to identify which artist contributed which element. Here that question quickly becomes meaningless. Bonnet and O'Rourke construct a shared language that belongs entirely to the recording itself. The music succeeds not because two recognizable styles have been combined, but because both musicians willingly disappear into a common process of listening, shaping and responding.

Within both artists' extensive discographies, Wakes on Cerulean remains one of the most quietly absorbing collaborations either has produced. Its two extended pieces transform modest materials into richly detailed environments where subtle harmonic movement, carefully balanced textures and patient pacing become endlessly rewarding. The album never asks to be understood through theory or explanation. It simply invites the listener to enter its spacious blue horizon and remain there long enough for the smallest sounds to reveal their remarkable complexity.

Kassel Jaeger & Jim O'Rourke - 2020 - In Cobalt Aura Sleeps

 

 Editions Mego ‎– EMEGO 272

In Cobalt Aura Sleeps continues the partnership between Kassel Jaeger and Jim O'Rourke without simply extending the ideas explored on Wakes on Cerulean. Their earlier collaboration often felt expansive, allowing broad electronic landscapes to unfold with remarkable patience. This second meeting narrows its focus. The music still occupies large spaces, but those spaces are darker, quieter and more psychologically charged. Rather than gazing toward an open horizon, the recording seems to move through an enclosed environment where every sound leaves a lingering trace before disappearing back into shadow.

The title carries an immediate sense of atmosphere. Cobalt suggests a deep blue that sits somewhere between daylight and complete darkness, while sleep introduces a condition where awareness becomes unstable without fully disappearing. The recording inhabits that uncertain territory from beginning to end. It never feels unconscious, yet it avoids the clarity associated with waking perception. Sounds drift into focus, lose definition and return in altered forms, creating the impression of thought moving slowly beneath the surface of sleep.

The album consists of two long compositions that mirror one another without becoming symmetrical. The opening piece establishes a fragile balance between environmental suggestion and electronic construction. Faint insect-like textures, distant movement and low electronic tones gather gradually, but nothing is presented as a literal field recording. Natural and synthetic sound continually exchange identities until it becomes impossible to separate one from the other. A quiet hum might resemble machinery one moment and wind through distant trees the next. That uncertainty becomes one of the recording's central pleasures.

Unlike many electroacoustic collaborations that foreground unusual techniques, In Cobalt Aura Sleeps rarely calls attention to its construction. Every layer enters with remarkable restraint. Harmonic material emerges almost accidentally from overlapping frequencies rather than from recognizable melodies. Small bursts of texture briefly disturb the calm before dissolving back into the surrounding atmosphere. The composition behaves less like a sequence of events than a slowly changing climate.

One of the most impressive aspects of the collaboration is its control of density. Both musicians understand how little information is required when every sound has been carefully placed. Long stretches contain only a handful of active elements, yet those limited materials continue generating new relationships as the recording unfolds. A sustained tone acquires unexpected emotional weight after several minutes simply because another frequency has shifted around it. Time becomes an active compositional tool rather than a neutral container.

The second half introduces greater tension without abandoning the measured pacing established earlier. Lower drones begin carrying more physical weight, while higher electronic textures flicker with increased instability. The atmosphere gradually tightens. There is still no dramatic climax, but the recording develops a quiet sense of pressure that distinguishes it from the openness of the first piece. The music begins feeling less like observation and more like immersion, surrounding the listener from multiple directions without becoming overwhelming.

Throughout both pieces, the stereo image remains extraordinarily detailed. Sounds occupy different depths instead of merely different positions from left to right. Some textures appear immediately beside the listener, while others seem buried behind several invisible layers. This depth gives the recording an architectural quality. Rather than following melodies through time, the listener moves through spaces built from resonance, distance and slowly changing perspective.

The collaboration also succeeds because neither artist dominates the other. Kassel Jaeger's fascination with electroacoustic texture and O'Rourke's extraordinary sense of pacing become inseparable. Instead of hearing two recognizable styles combined, the listener encounters a shared vocabulary that belongs entirely to this partnership. Individual decisions disappear into the larger structure, allowing the music to speak with a single voice despite its dual authorship.

Repeated listening reveals subtle connections between the two extended pieces. Certain harmonic colors reappear in altered form, while familiar textures return carrying different emotional weight because of their changed surroundings. Nothing is repeated literally. Memory performs much of the compositional work, encouraging listeners to connect distant moments through association rather than obvious recurrence.

In Cobalt Aura Sleeps ultimately feels more concentrated than its predecessor. Wakes on Cerulean often suggested open landscapes stretching toward the horizon. This album turns inward, examining enclosed spaces where the smallest vibrations become significant. It rewards patience not through grand revelations but through countless microscopic adjustments in texture, harmony and depth. Every return uncovers another quiet relationship hidden inside its carefully balanced surfaces, making the recording feel less like an object to be understood than an environment that continues changing each time it is entered.

Loren Connors & Jim O'Rourke - 2009 - Two Nice Catholic Boys CD

 

Family Vineyard ‎– FV59

Two Nice Catholic Boys carries a title that sounds almost playful, even self-deprecating, but the music inside has very little interest in irony. Loren Connors and Jim O'Rourke recorded these performances during a European tour in 1997, leaving the tapes untouched for years before O'Rourke eventually assembled them into the album released in 2009. Rather than feeling like an archival curiosity, the recordings possess an immediacy that often disappears from long-delayed live documents. Nothing sounds preserved behind glass. The guitars remain restless, uncertain and remarkably alive, as though the conversations were still unfolding every time the recording begins. The material comes from the same 1997 tour that produced In Bern, but instead of revisiting familiar ground, this release explores different emotional territory using the same partnership as its foundation.

The album is built from three extended improvisations whose titles suggest places while refusing complete certainty. "Maybe Paris," "Or Possibly Koln" and "Most Definitely Not Koln" sound less like travel notes than fading memories of movement across Europe. The uncertainty fits the music perfectly. These performances rarely settle into stable identities. Blues becomes abstraction, melody dissolves into texture, quiet passages erupt into feedback before returning to fragile single-note lines. The listener is continually asked to reconsider where the music is heading because the musicians themselves seem committed to discovering that direction together rather than following a predetermined path.

Loren Connors has always possessed one of the most recognizable guitar voices in experimental music. His playing carries echoes of Delta blues, slow ballad traditions and electric improvisation without belonging completely to any of them. Individual notes often seem suspended in space long after they have been played, allowing silence to become as expressive as the sound itself. O'Rourke understands this language completely. Rather than filling the available space, he frequently responds by expanding it, adding carefully judged textures, sustained tones or heavily processed guitar that changes the atmosphere without overwhelming Connors' delicate phrasing.

"Maybe Paris" demonstrates this balance beautifully. The performance opens with rough sheets of distorted guitar before gradually relaxing into something almost weightless. One musician introduces a fragment of melody while the other quietly reshapes the surrounding environment. Leadership changes constantly. Sometimes Connors appears to guide the direction through a handful of lyrical notes. Moments later O'Rourke shifts the entire emotional landscape with dense harmonics or broad waves of overdriven sound. The performance succeeds because neither guitarist treats improvisation as competition. Every gesture becomes an invitation for the other player rather than a declaration of control.

The middle performance explores heavier territory without sacrificing that sensitivity. Thick distortion gathers around slowly developing phrases, creating remarkable tension between intimacy and overwhelming volume. O'Rourke has always been comfortable moving between noise and restraint, while Connors possesses an extraordinary ability to preserve emotional clarity even inside dense feedback. Their shared patience prevents louder passages from becoming simple climaxes. Instead, intensity rises and falls like weather, always remaining connected to the quieter moments surrounding it.

The closing piece is perhaps the most unpredictable. Long stretches of near silence encourage close listening before sudden bursts of amplifier noise tear open the surface. Even then, aggression never becomes the destination. After every eruption the music patiently rebuilds itself through sparse exchanges, allowing single notes to carry surprising emotional weight. The contrast between explosive texture and nearly whispered guitar gives the recording an unusual dramatic range without making it feel theatrical.

One of the album's greatest achievements is how naturally it balances abstraction with recognizable musical language. Listeners searching for traditional songs will find none, yet neither guitarist abandons melody altogether. Fragments of blues phrasing, folk harmonies and slow lyrical lines continually emerge from the improvisation before dissolving back into broader textures. These familiar references act like landmarks appearing briefly through heavy fog. They provide orientation without defining the landscape.

The production preserves the physical character of two electric guitars sharing the same space. Amplifier hum, string resonance and subtle changes in touch remain audible throughout, giving the performances remarkable presence. Rather than polishing away imperfections, the recording embraces them as evidence of real interaction. Every scrape, sustained overtone and moment of hesitation contributes to the conversation taking place between the players.

Two Nice Catholic Boys ultimately stands as one of the finest collaborations in either musician's catalog because it never depends upon reputation or historical importance. Connors and O'Rourke meet as listeners first, guitarists second. Their improvisations unfold through attention rather than display, allowing fragile melodies, fractured blues and towering feedback to coexist inside the same continuously evolving dialogue. More than two decades after these performances were captured, they still sound exploratory, generous and completely unconcerned with arriving anywhere except the next note.

Oren Ambarchi / Jim O'Rourke - 2011 - Indeed LP

 

Editions Mego ‎– EMEGO 021

Indeed is a remarkably understated record considering the histories of the two musicians responsible for it. Oren Ambarchi had already spent years transforming the electric guitar into something almost unrecognizable, building long-form works where rhythm, resonance and sustained tone became inseparable. Jim O'Rourke had travelled an equally broad path through composition, improvisation, production and experimental electronics. Their first duo album could easily have become a meeting of recognizable personalities, each artist displaying the techniques that had made them distinctive. Instead, Indeed feels almost anonymous in the best possible sense. Individual signatures dissolve into a shared language that neither musician completely owns.

The album is divided into two side-long pieces, "Indeed A" and "Indeed B," preserving the proportions of the original LP while encouraging each half to develop as its own continuous landscape. The split is practical rather than conceptual. Together the two sides behave like one extended composition viewed from different emotional angles, with the second quietly growing out of ideas introduced during the first instead of providing dramatic contrast.

"Indeed A" begins with a coarse electronic texture that briefly feels unstable, almost abrasive, before gradually opening into something unexpectedly warm. Layers of synthesizer, treated guitar and faint percussive detail begin collecting around one another with extraordinary patience. Nothing arrives fully formed. Every sound appears tentative at first, finding its place through interaction with whatever is already present. The result resembles watching a room slowly fill with light rather than hearing musicians announce the beginning of a performance.

That gradual emergence becomes one of the defining characteristics of the album. Ambarchi and O'Rourke never rely on obvious transitions. A sustained tone acquires new meaning because another frequency begins vibrating beside it. Repeating figures slowly change emotional character as additional harmonies gather around them. The music continually reorganizes itself without drawing attention to the mechanics of those changes. Time passes almost unnoticed until the listener realizes that the entire landscape has quietly transformed.

Although both musicians have extensive backgrounds in free improvisation, Indeed rarely feels concerned with displaying spontaneity. There is an architectural quality to the recording that suggests careful listening took precedence over individual expression. Every layer appears measured against the others. Guitar, synthesizer and percussion continually exchange responsibilities, sometimes acting as foreground voices before slipping back into supporting roles without disrupting the overall balance. The collaboration succeeds because neither artist attempts to dominate the conversation.

The middle sections of the album reveal an unexpected melodic generosity. Small harmonic fragments appear among the electronic textures, never developing into traditional themes yet remaining memorable through repetition and careful placement. These moments prevent the recording from drifting into abstraction for its own sake. Beneath the experimental surface lies a quiet affection for melody that has always connected Ambarchi's and O'Rourke's best work, regardless of how unconventional its presentation becomes.

"Indeed B" shifts the atmosphere without abandoning the same patient philosophy. Rhythmic movement becomes slightly more pronounced, though rhythm is treated as another texture rather than a fixed pulse. Gentle percussive gestures appear and disappear beneath sustained harmonies, giving the recording a sense of internal momentum without pushing it toward conventional structure. The piece seems to breathe, expanding and contracting according to its own internal logic rather than following familiar musical expectations.

The production deserves special attention because of its extraordinary clarity. Every sound occupies a distinct position within the stereo field while remaining fully integrated into the surrounding environment. Bright harmonics hover above darker sustained tones, tiny percussive details emerge from unexpected directions and subtle changes in resonance continually reshape the apparent dimensions of the recording. The music feels spacious without becoming empty, detailed without sounding crowded.

One of the album's greatest achievements is its ability to balance composition and improvisation so naturally that separating the two becomes almost impossible. Certain passages feel meticulously arranged, while others carry the loose unpredictability of musicians responding instinctively to one another. Rather than alternating between those approaches, Indeed allows them to coexist continuously. Structure emerges from listening as much as from planning, giving the recording an unusual combination of confidence and openness.

Repeated listening gradually reveals how economical the music actually is. The palette remains relatively limited throughout, yet the relationships between sounds continue evolving in subtle ways. Harmonic shifts, changes in density and minute adjustments in texture provide enough variation to sustain attention without ever disrupting the album's remarkable sense of continuity. The recording asks listeners to notice small changes instead of waiting for dramatic events.

Indeed remains one of the finest collaborative releases in either musician's catalog because it never treats collaboration as a meeting of reputations. Ambarchi and O'Rourke create an environment where individual identities become secondary to careful listening, patient development and shared curiosity. The result is a work that feels expansive without excess, restrained without becoming static and endlessly rewarding precisely because it trusts the smallest musical gestures to carry the greatest emotional weight.

Oren Ambarchi / Jim O'Rourke - (2015) Behold LP

Editions Mego ‎– EMEGO 176

 Behold is the second collaborative release from Oren Ambarchi and Jim O'Rourke following on from the 2011 release 'Indeed'. Seamlessly blending field recordings, electronics, guitar, drums and other acoustic instruments into a subtle combination of Krautrock, minimalism and classic free flowing electronics.
Side A takes the listener into the Fourth World adventures pioneered by Jon Hassell whilst the flip seems like an unlikely pairing of Krautrock aesthetics and the slow building repetitive structures of The Necks.
This is sharp, focussed contemporary music, one where minimalist motifs meet maximalist tendencies. Behold is another landmark recording made by two of the most enthusiastic experimental explorers active today..

Jim O'Rourke, Lasse Marhaug & Paal Nilssen-Love - (2013) The Love Robots

 

PNL ‎– PNL017 

The trio of Jim O'Rourke on guitar, Paal Nilssen-Love on drums and Lasse Marhaug on electronics in an album of beautiful psychedelic noise recorded at Gok Sound Studio in Tokyo.

"The most interesting of their latest collaborations is the one with guitarist Jim O'Rourke, who contributes classic Sonic Youth guitar noise to the duo's [Paal Nilssen-Love & Lass Marhaug] excesses. At the start, Nilssen-Love is a very economical: his usual velocity is reluctant, almost coy. The three musicians blend excellently with each other, Marhaug's electronics and O'Rourke's guitar effects are a perfect match - a combination of early Pink-Floyd-psychedelia and new music in the tradition of Stockhausen and Mario Bertoncini. Side A end with a magical moment that could go on forever. The flipside is rawer and more disruptive, Marhaug's evil static is a constant presence: the disagreeable and disturbing side of noise [...]"-Martin Schray, The Free Jazz Collective.

Oren Ambarchi & Jim O'Rourke with special guest U-zhaan - (2018) Hence LP

Editions Mego ‎– EMEGO 249

Hence is the third collaborative release from Oren Ambarchi and Jim O’Rourke, following on from 2013’s Behold. Building on the refined combination of electronics and acoustic instrumentation found on their previous releases, Hence presents two side long pieces combining synthesizers, heavily effected guitar tones, and tabla rhythms played by special guest U-zhaan. On the first side, an explosive opening chord sends out ripples of sparse, irregularly pulsing guitar and synthesizer tones, aleatorically changing in pitch and jumping around the stereo image. Combined with the tabla, which gradually builds in busyness throughout the side, the piece is like a dream collaboration between David Behrman and the Henry Kaiser of It’s a Wonderful Life, gradually overtaken in its second half by a swarm of lush live electronic sizzle.

The second side begins in a similar area, combining tabla, shimmering Leslie cabinet guitar tones, and a wandering melodic line. Undergoing a series of subtle variations, this initial area eventually builds to a climax of twittering synthesized birdsong reminiscent of Alvin Curran’s 70s work. As on the first side, Ambarchi and O’Rourke craft a piece that is both comforting and subtly strange, as the constantly shifting dynamics and changes of focus (which recall the flow of improvised music) refuse to allow the music to settle into any one moment for too long or to build in too linear a fashion. Combining influences from post-minimalism, the pioneers of live electronics, and eastern music into a unique sound world, Hence is a seductive work from two of the most singular sensibilities in contemporary music.

Oren Ambarchi - guitars etc
Jim O'Rourke - synths etc
+
U-zhaan - tabla

Recorded & Mixed at Steamroom, Tokyo 2016
Additional recording at SuperDeluxe, Tokyo, Nov 10, 2015 by Masahide Ando

Cut by Rashad Becker at D&M, Berlin, September 2017

Photos by Traianos Pakioufakis
Sleeve/type design by Stephen O'Malley

 

VA - (2019) Black Truffle at 10

 

Black Truffle – Black Truffle Digital 001

Oren Ambarchi celebrates his 50th birthday and a decade of uncompromisingly brilliant, diverse releases on Black Truffle with this mixed compilation of cherry-picked label highlights covering the gamut from Keiji Haino to Annea Lockwood and Oren’s classic rock-riffing zingers

The mix simultaneously gives and removes context from the material in a smart way by conjuring unforeseen connection between genres, eons and vibes, craftily connoting links between their mutual idiosyncrasies and disparate coordinates.
With an emphatic focus on bringing work by older, pioneering artists to new light, Black Truffle has become an invaluable, educational service with its myriad reissues of seminal (if niche) classics by the likes of AMM, Annea Lockwood, Keiji Haino and Giancarlo Toniutti, while also providing space for new work by pivotal figures such as Alvin Curran (last year’s ‘Criss-Cross’ is a blinder) and a platform for obscure gems such as the Paul DeMarinis archival dive ‘Songs Without Throats’ and the work of his close peers, cry cole and Joe Talia.
This 3 hour long, 27 track wide mix covers the full wingspan of the label and its owner’s immaculate tastes, with highlights in the likes of Ruedi Häusermann’s gunky jazz freak ‘Susanna I’m Blade’, the deliquescent touch of ‘Burrata’ by cry cole & Ambarchi, or Arnold Dreyblatt’s nerve-jangling ‘The Odd Fellows’ forming peaks in the mix and label’s wonderfully wild and expansive musical panorama.

 

Tracklist
1. Eiko Ishibashi & Darin Gray – Ichida Part 2 (excerpt) (05:37)
2. Alvin Lucier – Criss-Cross (excerpt) (07:47)
3. Keiji Haino – Milky Way (excerpt) (07:03)
4. Max Eastley, Steve Beresford, Paul Burwell & David Toop – Suffolk (B) (05:06)
5. James Rushford – The Body's Night Side B (excerpt) (08:09)
6. Massimo Toniutti – Lento & Antico (05:20)
7. Oren Ambarchi, James Rushford & Kassel Jaeger – Face (excerpt) (06:57)
8. Oren Ambarchi, Keiji Haino & Jim O’Rourke – Only Wanting to Melt... Part 1 (excerpt) (13:37)
9. David Rosenboom – Piano Etude I (Alpha) (13:42)
10. John Duncan – Mass (02:43)
11. Ruedi Häusermann – Susanna Im Bade (03:32)
12. Paul DeMarinis – Kokole (06:39)
13. Arnold Dreyblatt – The Odd Fellows (04:11)
14. Will Guthrie – Creeper (03:07)
15. Oren Ambarchi – It Ain't Humid but It Sure Is Hot (excerpt) (05:41)
16. Crys Cole & Oren Ambarchi – Burrata (07:00)
17. Annea Lockwood – Tiger Balm (excerpt) (09:15)
18. Crys Cole – Layna (excerpt) (05:53)
19. Alvin Curran – Natural History Part 2 (excerpt) (09:45)
20. Oren Ambarchi, James Rushford & Kassel Jaeger – Calling (excerpt) (10:11)
21. Giancarlo Toniutti – The Tree (excerpt) (06:58)
22. Eyvind Kang & Jessika Kenney – Thoughts on Being Exiled to the Frontier, for Lord Wei (05:15)
23. Oren Ambarchi, Phew & Jim O’Rourke – Patience Soup Part 1 (excerpt) (07:23)
24. AMM – After Rapidly Circling the Plaza (excerpt) (06:32)
25. Oren Ambarchi, Keiji Haino & Jim O’Rourke – Only Wanting to Melt... Part 2 (excerpt) (06:27)
26. Joe Talia – Clouded Night Part 1 (excerpt) (06:41)
27. Francis Plagne & Crys Cole – Two Words (excerpt) (10:32) 

Jim O'Rourke, Keiji Haino & Oren Ambarchi - (2016) 君は気がついたかな 「すみません」 という響きがとても美しいことに それ以上悪くしないように = I Wonder If You Noticed ”I’m Sorry” Is Such A Lovely Sound It Keeps Things From Getting Worse

 

Medama Records ‎– mr07

The remarkable series of releases from the trio of Keiji Haino, Jim O'Rourke, and Oren Ambarchi continues with I wonder if you noticed "I'm sorry" Is such a lovely sound It keeps things from getting worse, which presents the entirety of an 80-minute set performed at Tokyo's SuperDeluxe in March 2014. While the trio's 2012 performance was divided into two releases (BT 011LP (2014) and BT 012LP (2015)), the single extended performance presented here ranges widely over terrain both new and familiar, from acoustic strings and collective chants to thunderous power trio moves. Throughout all of its transformations, the music here is some of the riskiest and most abstract the trio have yet committed to record. Beginning with chiming percussion reminiscent of Haino's 1995 classic Tenshi No Gijinka, the first side is dominated by Haino's impassioned vocals and performance on the bulgari, a traditional Turkish string instrument. The end of the second side presents a special treat: Haino's first recorded outing on the contrabass harmonica, from which he coaxes bizarre, wheezing textures against a backdrop of spacious bass and percussion. O'Rourke and Ambarchi rarely adopt here the classic rock roles essayed on earlier releases. O'Rourke's bass, which takes center-stage surprisingly often, is sometimes so heavily processed by his array of pedals that it becomes a shifting electronic mass; at other times his roving chromaticism suggests a sort of fuzzed-out free jazz. Ambarchi spends much of the set exploring areas of tumbling free pulse; and even when he locks into a constantly repeated figure on the set's third side, he gestures as much toward Ronald Shannon Jackson's stuttering marching band funk as toward any classic rock moves. When the trio finally moves in the final quarter of the performance into an extended passage of rock riffing, the payoff is immense, as they craft a thudding one-chord epic reminiscent of some of the early Fushitsusha classics before Haino returns to the bulgari, bringing the set back to where it began. Continuing to explore new instrumental and dynamic possibilities while remaining grounded in the trio's previous work, this set also brings with it a unique pleasure for the non-Japonophone listener: for the first time Haino sings many of his metaphysically brooding lyrics in English. Gatefold sleeve with gorgeous photographs by Jim O'Rourke, designed by Stephen O'Malley. Cut by Rashad Becker at Dubplates & Mastering, Berlin.

Eiko Ishibashi, Jim O'Rourke & Riki Hidaka - (2020) 追体兼 / vicarious

 

Self-released ‎– none

Peter Brotzmann, Jim O'Rourke, Keiji Haino - (2015) Two City Blues 1 LP

 

Trost Records ‎– TR 126 

Peter Brötzmann: alto/tenor-saxophone, tarogato, clarinet, Jim O‘Rourke: guitar, Keiji Haino: guitar, voice, shamisen. Recorded by Yasuo Fujimura, 23/11/2010, Shinjuku Pit Inn, Tokyo, mastered by Martin Siewert, photos by Mark Rappaport Drawing & Artwork by Brötzmann. A giant two day meeting of three outstanding musicians! German legend Peter Brötzmann is one of the outstanding saxophone players in the current international free jazz scene, continuing to go on tour and release with various musicians.
————————
One of two different sets, along with Two City Blues 2 (TROST 128CD), recorded on one intense night at Tokyo's Shinjuku Pit Inn. A trio of three towering figures, German free jazz legend Peter Brötzmann, Japanese avant-garde wizard Keiji Haino, and wildly versatile American composer and musician Jim O'Rourke, recorded by Yasuo Fujimura on November 23, 2010. Brötzmann: alto and tenor saxophones, tarogato, and clarinet; Haino: guitar, voice, shamisen; O'Rourke: guitar. 

Haino Keiji, Brötzmann Peter, Jim O'Rourke - (2015) Two City Blues 2 CD

 

 Trost Records ‎– TR 128

Two City Blues 2 draws together three musicians of outstanding class: Keiji Haino is a Japanese vocalist and guitarist who has worked in a range of genres and with Derek Bailey, John Zorn and Fred Firth, to name just a few. Jim O’Rourke is a composer and guitarist who has made an impact on the U.S. improvisation scene. He has played with, amongst many others, Mats Gustaffson, Derek Bailey and Thurston Moore. Finally, Peter Brotzmann needs little introduction and remains one of the key players of improvisational music.

There are just two tracks listed on Two City Blues 2 (due January 22, 2015 via Trost), and they provide sections in which the themes are developed, stretched and thrown back and forth between the musicians. The first section, “Two City Blues,” starts off with recurrent themes, all deceptively calm. Each musician trials riffs and themes, largely set by the saxophone of Brotzmann before they merge and the piece develops. At times, the guitar sounds countrified and at others, metallic and eerie.

Over this, Peter Brotzmann instills order to some degree with repeated riffs and then, just when you get a little comfortable — about two minutes in — the voice of Haino screeches over the top of the instruments like a banshee. After a few wails and gut-wrenching, however the voice becomes as much part of the musical development as the instruments. Before long, all players are enmeshed in a bizarre interaction involving rapid thrumming on the guitar, manic overplaying by Brotzmann and occasional vocal interjection by Haino.

The middle section is largely led by Peter Brotzmann, soloing over the guitar and sometimes alone with ethereal echoes in the background. The use of the shamisen, a three-stringed Japanese instrument, and the Taragota both enrich the sounds — even as Haino’s voice acts as the backboard in many sections. There is a lovely talking section between sax and voice, as Peter Brotzmann creates his now-standard “pic-a-pic” voice, making the sax sound like Mr. Punch on a good day even as Haino continues interspersing vocals. By this time, the latter have developed into almost recognizable tunes. Then, of course, “Two City Blues” develops further and a maelstrom of sound is created using all instruments and a certain amount of electronic tweaking.

Part 2 is titled “One Fine Day,” and starts with a Peter Brotzmann solo interspersed with guitar. This develops into a free-for-all section, led by the sax and punctuated with Brotzmann’s characteristic long notes — which introduce a tag onto which the others hold and fly. Beautifully developed, this is short at just over six minutes but very, very sweet.

Keiji Haino, Jim O'Rourke, Oren Ambarchi - (2013) まだ 暖かい内に この今に 全ての謎を 注ぎ込んでしまおう = Now While It's Still Warm Let Us Pour In All The Mystery

 

Medama Records ‎– mr04

Like the meme says, punctuation saves lives; likewise, crediting order clues you to process. The alphabetical name order on this trio’s first album, Tina Formosa, implied a non-hierarchical collaboration, and the sound-blending they sustained during that record’s instrumental passages bore this out. But let’s face it -- anytime Keiji Haino sings, he’s king, and he’s definitely first among equals throughout Imikuzushi.

The trio’s third annual collaboration is, once more, excerpted from a live performance in Japan. But instead of prepared pianos and electronics, they used the primary colors of rock: guitar, bass and drums. And while any combo that lets Haino’s sobbing, roaring, terrifying voice into the mix can never be just a rock band, these guys rock out quite formidably.

Whether your favorite power trio is the Minutemen or ZZ Top, part of what makes ’em great is their ability to simultaneously exploit the format’s simplicity and transcend its limitations. These guys do both. Each knows exactly what is required of his instrument. O’Rourke’s bass is often massive and monolithic; he spends most of the first piece – entitled “still unable to throw off that teaching a heart left abandoned unable to get inside that empty space nerves freezing that unconcealed sadness I am still unable to fully embrace” -- pounding out one note with unwavering precision and absolute brutality. But he also delivers gently exquisite counterpoint to Haino’s intricate, almost harpsichord-like guitar on the third piece, “invited in practically drawn in by something facing the exit of this hiding place who is it? that went in coming around again the same as before who is it?” Ambarchi’s drumming veers between precise beats and big clouds of cymbal smashing, but it’s always propulsive, and his shifts of attack exercise the same mastery of long-form dynamics as his recent, rigorously constructed solo album, Audience Of One.

O’Rourke and Ambarchi don’t always play it straight, though. Much of the enormous tension on “still unable…” comes from their careful shifts in and out of synch, which they manage and sustain with exacting discipline. And if you’ve been waiting for Haino to get his rock-god ya-yas out, you’re in luck here; there are plenty of stark, single-note solos blowing through this joint like dust devils down a ghost town’s widest thoroughfare. Turn the corner and they blossom into chords that contain orchestras. Whether it’s the djinn unleashed by massive volume or simply judicious marshaling of pedals, Haino usually seems to have several things happening at once inside every down stroke. He commands everything about him like some thunderbolt-wielding god atop a mountain, abetted by pitiless angels who know that their power comes from keeping him at the peak.

Keiji Haino / Jim O'Rourke / Oren Ambarchi - (2015) ここに 与えられた この身体 全部 使い切てやる という者の お茶の 時間 = Tea Time For Those Determined To Completely Exhaust Every Bit Of This Body They've Been Given LP

 

Medama Records ‎– mr06

"At this point, it can justifiably be said that Keiji Haino, Jim O'Rourke and Oren Ambarchi have become one of the leading groups in experimental music. This, their sixth release, presents the entire second set of the trio's March 2013 concert at SuperDeluxe (the first set is available on Black Truffle as Only Wanting to Melt Beautifully Away Is It a Lack of Contentment That Stirs Affection for Those Things Said to Be as of Yet Unseen). While the first set of the evening saw the trio branching out into new instrumental configurations, here they return to their signature line-up of guitar, bass and drums. The LP begins abruptly, with one of the finest performances by the trio captured on record thus far already in full swing. Throughout the course of this 12-minute piece, O'Rourke and Ambarchi lay down a thudding, meterless pulse, the impossible midway point of Milford Graves and motorik Krautrock, over which Haino unfurls a number of distinct strategies developed in his work since the 1980s: formless blurs of reverb-drenched guitar noise, looped pointillist fragments and wandering, dissonant lines obscured in clouds of distortion. Continuing Haino's habit of naming albums with phrases that seem to obliquely comment on the music they contain, it could definitely be said that this is music made by three people 'determined to completely exhaust every bit of this body they've been given.' Showing the trio at new heights, this track carries on in the spirit of some of Haino's greatest work: music made with the ingredients of rock that somehow manages to sidestep all of its forms and traditions while retaining and amplifying its fundamental power. If this track alone lays to rest concerns about whether the trio has exhausted the guitar/bass/drums format, the remainder of the record serves as a demonstration of the multitude of possibilities still available for their continued exploration. The three are now so in-tune with one another that almost anything can be integrated into their improvisations: in the slow-burning second piece, O'Rourke's heavily effected bass wanders from anti-music thuds to an almost funky passage with Ambarchi sounding not unlike Buddy Miles circa Hendrix's Band of Gypsys -- it bespeaks the hours of listening to fusion and classic rock that continue to form an important part of O'Rourke and Ambarchi's musical personalities. The final piece is a continuous side-long performance that moves through a number of discrete episodes, from vocal and flute solos by Haino delicately accompanied by O'Rourke's sparse bass and Ambarchi's sizzling cymbals, to a final stumbling dirge over which Haino unleashes a stunning torrent of in-the-red guitar skree." --Francis Plagne; Design by Stephen O'Malley with high quality live shots by Ujin Matsuo and stunning artwork by Norwegian noise legend Lasse Marhaug.

Jim O'Rourke, Keiji Haino & Oren Ambarchi - (2017) This Dazzling, Genuine “Difference” Now Where Shall It Go? 2xLP

 

Medama Records ‎– mr08

Oren Ambarchi’s Black Truffle label coughs up the eighth live document of his nonpareil trio with the legendary Keiji Haino and Jim O’Rourke. All considered, these guys are pretty much the tightest/loosest avant instrumental group out there right now, blessed with a time-and-space bending dexterity that allows them to fuse some half century of research in free jazz, out rock and kosmiche electronics into blinding new forms.

On the A-side they prowl like a pack of predatory animals hunting down a noble but tired old prey, methodically and precisely attacking and breaking down the lumbering body of rock music in an increasingly ferocious whirlwind of fanged guitar slash and tearout percussion until they’re bathing a strangely tranquil bloodbath. With the B-side they lock into a martial distortion drill around Ambarchi’s steady, Wold-like snares rolls and sky-collapsing harmonics with stoically unrelenting force.

Side C brings the trio at their most abstract, moving from near silence, perforated only by the shivering chimes of toy piano, spookily signing into he ether where Haino exclaims in English from somewhere deep in the unfathomable mix, and O’Rourke petrifies the air with ungodly, alien EMS synth voices that speak to us in the uncanniest way. All change again on Side D, as they broach the 4th wold thru some back door entrance, scanning its undergrowth with Haino’s flute, vox and guitar urged on by pouring tribal toms until hey lay waste to the scene with pure guitar napalm.  

Jim O'Rourke, Keiji Haino & Oren Ambarchi - (2014) ただ美しく溶けてしまいたいのに まだまだ満ち足りていないから まだ見えてないはずの ほうが愛おしく 思えてしまう = Only Wanting To Melt Beautifully Away Is It A Lack Of Contentment That Stirs Affection For Those Things Said To Be As Of Yet Unseen LP

 

 Medama Records ‎– mr05

"Begun as a one-off collaboration in 2009, the trio of Keiji Haino, Jim O'Rourke and Oren Ambarchi has now become a solid working group, refining its craft through a series of annual concerts at Tokyo's legendary SuperDeluxe. Much of their recorded work has focused on their intense, ritualistic take on the rock power trio of electric guitar, bass and drums. Presenting the entire first set of the trio's March 2013 concert at SuperDeluxe (the second set will follow on Black Truffle later this year), Only Wanting to Melt Beautifully Away Is It a Lack of Contentment That Stirs Affection for Those Things Said to Be as of Yet Unseen is their fifth release and blows the instrumental palette wide open for a single continuous piece focused on acoustic strings, synth, flute and percussion. Featuring one of Haino's most delicate and moving recorded vocal performances, the opening section of the record takes the form of a spare duet between O'Rourke's 12-string acoustic guitar and Haino's kantele (a Finnish variant of the dulcimer), behind which Ambarchi provides a hovering backdrop of wine glass tones. While on previous releases the listener has often sensed that Haino was firmly in the driver's seat, here O'Rourke takes center stage with an acoustic guitar performance that takes the lyricism of John Abercrombie or Ralph Towner and refracts it through the free improvisation tradition of his mentors Derek Bailey and Henry Kaiser. The atmosphere of meditative, abstracted song is reminiscent of some of Haino's greatest recordings, such as the legendary Live in the First Year of the Heisei volumes recorded with Kan Mikami. After this stunningly beautiful opening sequence, the performance moves organically through a number of episodes, including a dramatic central passage in which Haino moves to synth and drum machine, crafting a current of raw electricity that unfurls slowly over the gently pulsing foundations of Ambarchi's cymbals and builds to heights of manic intensity. When Haino later turns to wooden flute, Ambarchi answers him with nimble hand-drummed percussion in a passage that calls to mind Don Cherry's liberated combination of free-jazz improvisation and non-Western musics. The trio's move away from the power trio dynamic bespeaks a risk-taking and questing spirit that refuses to be satisfied with repeating past glories, and yet the organic, immersive flow of this single improvisation attests to the intuitive bond that has formed between them over the last five years. Exuding the signature mystery and emotion of Haino's greatest works, this release is perhaps the strongest statement yet from this acclaimed trio, and holds out a tantalizing promise for everyone hooked on their continuing exploration of 'those things said to be as of yet unseen.'

Keiji Haino, Jim O'Rourke, Oren Ambarchi - (2019) In the past only geniuses were capable of staging the perfect crime (also known as a revolution) Today anybody can accomplish their aims with the push of the button

Medama Records ‎– 009

For its 50th release, Black Truffle presents the ninth album from one of the label’s core ensembles, the power trio of Keiji Haino, Jim O’Rourke, and Oren Ambarchi. Drawn from a November 2015 performance at Tokyo’s now-defunct SuperDeluxe, the record’s opening piece drops us immediately into the maelstrom, abruptly cutting into an extended episode of Ambarchi’s pummeling drums, O’Rourke’s fuzzed-out six-string bass, and Haino’s roaring guitar and electronics. Eventually settling into a hypnotic bass and drum groove over which Haino unleashes some almost Ray Russell-eque skittering atonal screech, these opening 13 minutes act as a potent reminder of the trio’s power.
Alongside showcasing the steady development of a unique language for the guitar-bass-drums power trio, the group’s succession of releases over the last decade has demonstrated a constant experimentation with new instruments, which continues here with O’Rourke use of Hammond organ (played at the same time as his roaming, sometimes knotty basslines). On the album’s second piece, the organ plays a key role, furnishing a harmonically rich shimmer over O’Rourke’s angular six-string bass chords, Haino’s distant, chirping electronics and Ambarchi’s crisp cymbal work; arriving somewhere halfway between Albert Marcoeur and Terje Rypdal, this piece is undoubtedly a highlight in the trio’s catalog so far.
The second and third sides are slow-burning, multi-part epics that range from spacious reflection to furious tumult. Where the trio’s previous double-LP set — This Dazzling, Genuine “Difference” Now Where Shall It Go? (BT 030LP, 2017) — was primarily instrumental in focus, here you find Haino’s voice taking the spotlight on the expansive third side, intoning, wailing. and exhorting in Japanese and English over a backdrop that moves from hushed bass and organ atmospherics to rolling toms and cymbal crashes before arriving at an ecstatic finale of searing guitar, tumbling drums and reverb-saturated bass. The fourth side returns to the hypnotic grooves of the opening piece, fixing on a relentless riff and riding it into oblivion under Haino’s roaming psychedelic soloing and jagged chordal slashes.

Tracklist
1. In the past only geniuses were capable of staging the perfect crime (also known as a revolution) Today anybody can accomplish their aims with the push of the button Part 1 (13:49)
2. Decorously decorously decorously decorously decorously Decorously decorously decorously decorously decorously To make something beautiful and then to smash it decorously (09:45)
3. Head-on collision If it still has bones it shall move forward (which is different to progress) (19:01)
4. In the past only geniuses were capable of staging the perfect crime (also known as a revolution) Today anybody can accomplish their aims with the push of the button Part 2 (17:53)
5. I always walk around with a "tranquil void" in my pocket one that I may pull out at any given moment (17:01)

Total length: 1:17:29

Jim O'Rourke - (2012) Old News #7 2xLP

 

Editions Mego ‎– Old News #7

Side One & Two recorded 96-97 Steamroom, Chicago

Side Three recorded live in Nagoya at Tokuzo April,2011.
Thanks to Carlos Giffoni

Side Four recorded 93-94.
Originally released on These Records. Thanks to Andrew & Howard Jacques

More archival works from Jim O’Rourke seeing the light of day.

‘Welcome To The Django’ is 2 sided mid 90s excursion of O’Roukes first exeperiments with a Serrge modular system.

‘Natural Born Killers’ is a recent live jam recorded in Nagoya.

‘Tacere Fas’ is legendary early 90s piece finally available again. Orginally appearing on the compilation ‘Unentitled’ (THESE 011CD), released by These Records in 1994.

Jim O'Rourke - (2020) Shutting Down Here

 

Portraits GRM ‎– SPGRM 001

ReShutting Down Here is a special work. Symbolically, it covers a period of thirty years, between two visits by Jim O'Rourke to the GRM, the first, as a young man fascinated by the institution and his repertoire, the second, as an accomplished musician, influential and imbued with an aura of mystery. Shutting Down Here is a piece shaped like an universe, a heterogeneous world in which collides the multiple musical facets of Jim O'Rourke: instrumental writing, field recordings, electronic textures and cybernetic becomings, dynamic spaces, harmonic spaces, silent spans . This variety of approach, strangely, does not in any way weaken the coherence of the whole and this is the talent of Jim O'Rourke, a talent, properly speaking, of composition, where all the sound elements compete and participate to stakes that exceed them and of a common destiny, that is to say of an apparition.

Sote - (2020) Parallel Persia Remixes

 

  Diagonal ‎– DIAG057

Cutting edge innovators Rashad Becker and Mark Fell re-work material from Sote’s extraordinary ‘Parallel Persia’ album alongside a killer non-album track by Ata Ebtekar aka Sote himself. Highly recommended if yr into the complex tunings and arrhythmic geometry of Dariush Dolat-Shahi, Autechre, Xenakis...

Last year’s ‘Paralell Persia’ album took the trajectory of his preceding ‘Hardcore Sounds From Tehran’ (2016) and ‘Sacred Horror In Design’ (2017) to thrilling new heights for Diagonal. Turning traditional instrumental music inside-out with computers and modular synths, he arrived at a thrilling mix of sound that stood out as one of the year’s most original and striking releases.

Wrapped around the incendiary core of ‘Artificial Neutrality’ which features Pouya Damadi’s Tar and Arash Bolouri’s Santour sculpted into fiery folk futurism by Sote, the remixes by celebrated mastering engineer and improvising composer Rashad Becker and minimalist rhythmatist Mark Fell exert incredible new spins on Sote’s originals that remain faithful to the material in their inimitable styles.

Rashad Becker’s Dramatic Reenactment of ‘Pseudo Scholastic’ combs and curdles the original into 7 segmented minutes of squirming tones and melted rhythms that, through twists and turns, come to recall Korean classical court music and Florian Hecker as much as they recall the original.

Mark Fell, meanwhile, impresses with his quadruply extended 20 minute Parallel Yorkshire mutation of ‘Modality Transporter’, where he unravels its syncopated flex in endless permutations of laser-guided pulse drops, puckered strings and choral stabs that come to sound like Autechre letting off fireworks at a Dariush Dolat-Shahi show.

Celer + Forest Management - (2018) Landmarks

 

Constellation Tatsu ‎– PURR 0089 

Collaborating for the first time, Will Long and John Daniel combine their methods using tape machines, loops, and computers to score a reimagining of Peter Weir's film and Paul Theroux's novel "The Mosquito Coast". Sourcing inspiration from a view of the film and book as a historical pendulum, the musicians found that these reinterpretations left them nostalgic for a different time, something that's only partly imagined, and without the defined predictions about the life cycles of mass culture based on our limited understanding of current events.

Shira Legmann, Michael Pisaro - (2019) Barricades

 

Elsewhere – elsewhere 009

This album contains LA-based composer Michael Pisaro's recent composition 'Barricades,' a 63-minute piece for piano and electronics. Consisting of thirteen studies (piano pieces, some with electronics) and two electronic interludes, the piece is performed by Israel-based pianist Shira Legmann, with Pisaro on electronics.

"Barricades has a distant but decisive relationship to the keyboard music of Louis and François Couperin. The title refers to 'Les Barricades Mystérieuses' by François Couperin – and to the technique of overlapping, interlocking voices, creating a thicket or web-like texture. I have loved the music of the Couperins since college, but it was when Shira sent me some of her favorite music to play, and 'Les Barricades Mystérieuses' was among the scores, that the idea for this piece began to crystallize. The process of writing and working on the piece with Shira was one of watching the barricades, which I pictured as a network of twisted vines, unravel." (Michael Pisaro)

Legmann's clean, supple yet solid piano sounds, employing a wide dynamic range, add a sense of organic life to the composition. Her whispery nuances and mysterious atmosphere, intertwining with Pisaro's underlying sine tones, create a compelling balance between coolness and emotion, distance and closeness, and result in a tranquil yet captivating contemporary work with an echo of the French Baroque.

Long Distance Poison - (2020) Technical Mentality CS

 

Hausu Mountain ‎– HAUSMO 101 

Operating as Long Distance Poison, Nathan Cearley and Erica Bradbury manipulate modular and analogue synths into sustained drone explorations lasting just a few ticks shy of 20 minutes per track. Steadily releasing albums since the 2010s, Long Distance Poison combine a post-rock ethos with ambient drones and sequenced algorithms.

Technical Mentality is an affirmation of much of their previous work. The tracks manoeuvre from glassy sci-fi soundscapes to gritty machine electronics, all designed to suck out any free quiet space from our consciousness. Fans of ambient drone will appreciate the mostly relentless atonal forms that are subtly interrupted by harmonic complements.

In particular, "Sunset In a Server" simulates the inner workings of the machines that seemingly run our lives. The track finishes with a crescendo of harmonic content and sustained bell notes, only to return to the gloomy hum of electronic rpms.

Technical Mentality unfolds like a live improvisational performance. For the most part, the textures happily guzzle up frequencies, but remain fairly pleasant to the ear. There are a few moments where the longevity and amplitude of the notes seem almost unbearable, but noise and drone fans might just be looking for that kind of cerebral assault.