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LP
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ALB 004LP
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LP version; includes download code. There was once a pop music genre that was not actually a genre. It emerged in the late '90s and early 2000s and it was called electronica. This genre was no more a genre than indie or even pop; it simply referred to a compartmentalized and, for the most part, easy listening music that was not good to dance to. As a result, a wide range of musical styles came to be classified under this non-genre just because there was no other suitable classification at the time. And now multi-instrumentalist and composer Oliver Doerell (Dictaphone, Swod, Raz Ohara and the Odd Orchestra) presents Z, an album that sounds like a late electronica manifesto, released under Doerell's alias Cummi Flu. As Cummi Flu, Doerell focuses on sound design. There is not a sound on Z that has been included by chance. The squeak of a computer, the hint of a door shutting, the drawn-out hum of a cello, the sound of Doerell's favorite percussion instrument, the rubber band -- everything here is of equal importance, positioned side by side. Doerell draws from field recordings of all kinds, including children's voices and street sounds, kalimba patterns, and elusive fragments of melodies. Every one of Z's pieces develops in measured, coherent steps into a dense and, at the same time, clearly delineated sound puzzle, though the pieces don't fit perfectly together. This blurring or ambiguity is what makes Doerell's music so special. Sound loops running in opposite directions rustle and squeal. A woman's voice sings a meditative mantra in an unidentifiable language, accompanied by the clang of percussion that is apparently played on an array of kitchen utensils. And in the end, a groove emerges from the tightly woven layers of sound, suggestive of Afrobeat. It bounces and springs to all conceivable heights and depths. Sometimes dreamy and faded, at other times concrete and driving, forming a special kind of loop-based music: intimate, meditative, and timeless. Additional vocals by Lady Ived. Mastered by Nils Frahm. Cover art by Fehmi Baumbach.
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