One-off musical collaborations can run the gamut from essential (Duke Ellington & John Coltrane, Have Moicy!) to skippable (Lulu, the Flaming Lips and whomever), but the majority are simply adequate records of primary interest to fans of the parties involved. Professional Sunflow, a live document from New Age pioneer Laraaji and contempo sonic experimentalists Sun Araw manages to be more than that; amongst other things it’s the first release on the label W.25TH, and it’s out on 2LP June 17.
It’s kinda unusual for an enterprise devoted to reissues to grow a sub-label appendage dedicated to uncovering new material, but that’s exactly what Superior Viaduct has done with W.25TH. Professional Sunflow gets the discography off to a strong start, mainly by following the same strategy as their parent entity and allowing good taste and curiosity to lead them to refreshing stylistic terrain.
Said landscape isn’t exactly uncharted waters, however; upon reading of W.25TH’s inaugural release, a pair of albums on the RVNG Intl. label quickly sprang to mind, namely 2011’s FRKWYS Vol. 8 featuring Laraaji and Blues Control and the next year’s Icon Give Thank by Sun Araw, M. Geddes Gengras, and The Congos.
RVNG’s FRKWYS series captures sessions pairing younger artists with simpatico veteran inspirations, and something roughly comparable is going on with Professional Sunflow. Laraaji is the vet; he has a whole fucking shit-ton of wax under his belt, and it suffices to say that I haven’t heard it all and neither have you.
He was indisputably one of the heavier hitters to get categorized in the new age genre, though many will prefer to place him into the ambient or drone camps. By this late date we’ve long commenced drifting away from the stereotype of the flowing-bearded dude in a white silk robe blowing tranquilly into a wooden flute whilst sitting atop a log in a misty glade loaded with dewy ferns, so tagging Laraaji as a new age cat is far from a putdown.
The LP that really put him on the radar screen and (I assume) remains his biggest seller is 1981’s Ambient 3: Day of Radiance, the third installment in Brian Eno’s Ambient series; previously there’d been a couple of albums of his hammered dulcimer and electrified zither, but once the Editions EG record hit racks Laraaji’s output steadily blossomed to include over 40 entries; All Saints recent 2CD/3LP Celestial Music 1979-2011 provides an in-depth spotlight of a career that’s still very much in progress.
Though touring members are enlisted (such as Alex Gray, credited herein with computer synthesis) Sun Araw is generally acknowledged as the creative endeavor of one Cameron Stallones. The full-length debut The Phynx came out in 2008 and since then the body of work has swelled considerably as it integrates electronics and live instrumentation wielding elements of dub, Krautrock, and more into an experimental-psychedelic stew.
His approach makes for reliably fruitful contrasts with Laraaji on these performances from Germany and Switzerland; “Leipzig Part 1” begins with a discourse of percussion and electronic spurts, many of which replicate the sound of electricity spitting from frayed wires. Gradually the zither tones enter the mix, but not with the celestial cascades familiar from Ambient 3.
Along with a laugh from Laraaji the sonic field thickens and introduces vibe-like keyboards as the zither takes on greater intensity; after a short vocal interjection the instrument undergoes a brief and splendid harp-ish explosion. Described as combining pre-written parts and improvisation, the two tracks here, each one spread across opposing vinyl sides, exude the looseness of spontaneous creation but with enough focus to maintain appropriate levels of interest.
As the first LP alone totals over 36 minutes, that’s no small feat. Together with the outbound improv nature the fadeouts and fade-ins can’t help but remind me of those side-broken ‘60s free jazz jams on Impulse, and while we’re on the subject, although he never breaks into a yodel, Laraaji’s singing does slightly recall Leon Thomas.
“Leipzig Part 2” finds the tandem achieving extended forward motion, and as the side progresses, it even acquires a bit of a ’70s keyboard-driven groove. Laraaji gets in his share of forceful strumming as synth-like squirts and burbling rhythms unravel around him. As the cut nears conclusion the percussion and short bursts of tech (now sounding like manipulated tape) return to accompany increasingly relaxed zither strokes.
Setting aside momentum, “Lausanne Part 1” concerns itself instead with abstraction. At first sparse, it methodically builds to a crescendo of vividness approximately midway through, and after flurries of chimes, a touch of vocals, and some spastic keyboard, the cut abruptly shifts just prior to end of side three.
Where Part 1 was similar to gliding down a tropical river on a raft in a mildly hallucinogenic state of consciousness, “Lausanne Part 2” kicks it into gear and then indulges in audio trickery, intermittently submerging the rhythm in a sly dub-derived maneuver before reverting to the abstract environs of its first half for the finale.
Nearly ten minutes shorter than “Leipzig,” altogether “Lausanne” demands closer attention, otherwise much of it will slip right by. It’s a scenario sometimes leveled as a detraction against ambient, drone, and yes indeed even new age stuff, but often it’s merely indicative of a lack of patience by the listener. Due in part to its improvisational makeup, Professional Sunflow is less than perfect but still stands as a largely engaging experience; Laraaji’s artistic longevity continues to impress.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
