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CD
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RWCD 003CD
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1998 third album by Graham Bowers (1943-2015). "All good things must come to an end, but so must all things bad and frightening. If Graham Bowers really envisioned his first trilogy of works as a take on his real life, then he must have been both sad and relieved when it was over. Built like an epic saga, things kept growing darker and more claustrophobic with each volume, the arc of tension refusing to bend down again until the very last second. If Of Mary's Blood (RWCD 001CD, 1995) was an astute and uniquely personal collage-world of harmony and naked sound and Transgression (RWCD 002CD, 1997) its bizarre and freaked-out mirror image, then Eternal Ghosts (1998) is a brutal exorcism. Metal hits metal in the first few seconds, intensifying and gaining volume until your ears hurt, but just before you turn the dial down, the whip stops for a second, dropping the listener into a stream of unwanted memories and mournful longings. The album is more coherent than its predecessors, yet simultaneously more heavy-hearted and unreal. Gray drones whisper and murmur in the back for almost the entire record's duration, interspersed by clustered choirs, textured cymbalpads, and weird biomechanical structures, which may come as an aural equivalent to Bowers's background as an industrial designer. Toward the end, timpani rumble and almost inaudible flutes blow out of tune toward a grand finale, which refuses to materialize. Bowers has entered the realms of the untouchable with this album and dedicated it to 'flesh and blood, body and spirit' as well as 'worlds without end.' The fact that all source material stems from 'organic' instruments seems to imply that this is by no means just a bad dream or a daydreamed fantasy -- but that it could happen to you, too. Particularly noteworthy is the last segment of Eternal Ghosts, when Peter Gallagher's translucent and heavenly grand piano suddenly comes shining through a sunflood cloud and closes the chapter in an unexpectedly hopeful mood. It is the sole concrete moment of a journey full of metaphors but by no means the only magical one. Things haven't always been easy for Bowers since then, but it was clear that the tracks were now leading into the light, his train leaving the tunnel of his fearful visions" --Tobias Fischer. CD accompanied by a fold-out booklet containing the associated artworks painted by Graham Bowers.
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RWCD 001CD
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1995 debut by Graham Bowers (1943-2015). "While on the surface of things, there is nothing previously unheard on Graham Bowers's triptych of Of Mary's Blood (1995), Transgression (RWCD 002CD, 1997), and Eternal Ghosts (RWCD 003CD, 1998), it is its profound effect on the psyche that makes it truly unique. As a matter of fact, when Of Mary's Blood came out in 1995, it looked like experimental music had a new figurehead. There was not one mag in the scene that could afford itself the luxury of not featuring it and all that did were hard-pressed to put their feelings into words. Which is easy to understand. Still today, Of Mary's Blood, a three-quarters-of-an-hour-long trip into Bowers's head, leaves one baffled and awestruck. Divided into three segments, 'Always was,' 'Always is,' and 'Always shall be,' this composition sails away on a wing and a whisper into an unsettling terra incognita: a grayish drone, like the wind intermittently touching a cymbal, greets the listener, as do the sounds of cars speeding by and of a railway crossing in the glaring heat. Thick machine sounds build up, a street scene on a blue-skied afternoon, frenzied voices and wailing noises dissolve into almost jungle-like atmospheres and suddenly, after almost ten minutes, there is this melody full of sorrow and despair that braces itself like a cloud of dust over the smoldering embers of a pitch-black apocalyptic scrapyard. A finale with clustered chords by an untuned piano and bizarre orchestral samples take control again. Even the extracts on Bower's homepage can only hint at what to expect here, which may well be a reason why, even despite the raving reviews, this was not exactly an instant smash-hit. But the difference between the often random and somehow caricaturesque offerings by some post-industrial sound artists and this flowing, seamless composition without an ounce of slack and a gripping compulsion could not be more apparent. Of course it's dark ambient, drones, the avant-garde, free jazz, industrial, cut-up, and electronica all blended into one all-encompassing cross-over spectacular. But then again, it's none of these as well. The mind can only take you to so many places and it is music like Of Mary's Blood that extends the limits of your creativity to unknown heights" --Tobias Fischer. CD accompanied by a fold-out booklet containing the associated artworks painted by Graham Bowers.
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RWCD 004CD
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1999 fourth album by Graham Bowers (1943-2015). "Pilgrim is just a remarkable piece of music. Powerful and brutal at times, slow and sensitive at others, there is no way of putting it into a safe haven of any category, where everybody could relax and say, yeah, I know, it is jazz, experimental music, electronics, drone, or anything else the avant-garde world has to offer. It's really not that simple. Here, a much greater experiment is taking place. ... Graham Bowers was known for musical and artistic productions that go beyond the so called 'that has been done before.' No, this has NOT been done before. Although the percussion part seemingly is pretty much what we have once heard, the whole structure is almost orchestral. ... You hear the steady beat of percussion, interrupted by some strange sounds. Very low sounds, swelling up once in a while, then again fading away. And while the music picks up, in the middle of the open air, it's as if a glistening light appears, just up there, 30 feet from where you are, somehow interwoven with a sudden fog. And there, you recognize a sculpture. Two human bodies, it seems, constructed out of smoke, intertwined, you are not sure how, you keep guessing, and that strange music is coming in again, faint, loud, slow, powerful, very structured, and when the smoke sculptures dissolve in plain view, so does the music. ... I stand in awe and just watch and listen ... I could say a lot about the masterful play of instruments and so on and on, and I would probably be right in praising its virtues. But for me, even if I'd be alone with my opinion about this music, all alone on the face of the earth, I'd still have to say that it is very humane, very much about human life and life in general. This music is life, the life of a believer, and the life and hopes of many believers. Belief in what? I don't know, and I leave that question open for each of you for your own sake. With this composition and release, Graham Bowers has created an extraordinary piece of art that should be called an artistic revolution. At least, that's what I am calling it" --Fred M. Wheeler. CD accompanied by a fold-out booklet containing the associated artworks painted by Graham Bowers.
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RWCD 002CD
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1997 second album by Graham Bowers (1943-2015). "On Transgression, Graham Bowers takes his work even further than its predecessor, Of Mary's Blood (RWCD 001CD). Measured in terms of how most people rate music, this album is even more 'out there' and 'difficult' than his earlier work, which is saying quite a bit. But then again, an objective 'snapshot' of where humanity stands today combined with a highly personal account of his raising in a Christian society and all of the accompanying oddities was never going to be a radio hit. As Bowers puts it, 'I am an atheist, but the product of Christianity, so for me a good starting point was the fertilisation of Mary, with the introduction of 23 chromosomes from God almighty to join the 23 chromosomes waiting in the egg within her earthly body.' On this almost-fifty-minute-long continuous track as it gushes like an out-of-control rollercoaster log on a wild water canyon through the outskirts of the composer's mind, Bowers uses both electronic and acoustic means, gluing them together in sometimes surreal and crass scenes. The opening section consists of a string crescendo, as if from an orchestra tuning up, with dissonant flutes obnoxiously whistling and trumpeting from the sides. As the harmonies and rolling timpani prepare for an apocalyptic climax, a berserk electric guitar out of nowhere abruptly shreds all texture to pieces. The largest part of the middle then focuses on vocals. As incomparable as most of it may appear, Ligeti would have been proud and unable to withdraw his attention from this associative moaning, wailing, whining, pleading, baiting, humming, and even singing or dissolving into deep, aspirated breaths, combined with the drunken babblings of a piano. As the music approaches the end, it turns more collage-like and layers various sounds in an oneiric musique concrète tightrope act. Throughout, Bowers proves to be a master of transitions, ripping listeners from one mood and placing them in the next with striking ease. Most of all however, he presents himself like a highly artistic master of ceremonies, who consciously uses the contrasts between the ecstatic and frenzied moments and the fragile interludes to create powerful effects. " --Tobias Fischer. CD accompanied by a fold-out booklet containing the associated artworks painted by Graham Bowers.
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