Guitarist and filmmaker Sarah Lipstate has been recording under the name Noveller since 2005, first in Austin then in Brooklyn where her talents made a considerable splash. A forward-thinking instrumentalist of distinction, her wordless avant-tinged soundscapes have resulted in a series of esteemed releases and interactions with a noteworthy list of collaborators. Her latest Fantastic Planet finds her back in Texas and in strong form; it hits racks on January 26th via Fire Records.
The credentials chalked up by Sarah Lipstate are striking to say the least. She’s played in Rhys Chatham’s Guitar Army, Ben Frost’s “Music For Six Guitars” group, and Glenn Branca’s 100 guitar ensemble (quite the trifecta), teamed up live and on record with JG “Foetus” Thirwell, Carla Bozulich of the Geraldine Fibbers/ Evangelista, Québécois drone/ambient project thisquietarmy, Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth, and David Wm. Sims of the Jesus Lizard. She’s also a former member of One Umbrella, Parts & Labor, and for two months, Wesley Eisold’s neo-darkwave experience Cold Cave.
Additionally, Lipstate’s contributed to soundtracks (including last year’s The Skeleton Twins) and performed live cinematic scores, presented her own frequently hand-painted 8mm and 16mm films, created art installations, composed commissioned work, started her own Saffron Records, and even travelled with the Radiolab podcast tour in a trio with percussionist Glenn Kotche and upright bassist Darin Gray.
But in a happy turn of events, amidst all of this activity she’s managed to avoid neglecting her solo output, Noveller beginning life way back in 2005 as documented on Vasovagal, a limited edition 3-inch CDR issued by the Austin label Green-Ox Sound. Since around the turn of the decade her yield has been fruitful, offering splits (‘09’s Colorful Disturbances with Aiden Baker, ‘10’s Bleached Valentine with David Wm. Sims’ unFact), collabs (Live at Roulette with Ranaldo, Reveries with thisquietarmy, both from ’14, though Roulette dates to ‘11), and of course her own stuff.
Amongst Noveller’s productivity is Red Rainbows, an LP waxed in ’09 by No Fun Productions that’s distinguished by expansive, lengthy excursions (one nearing 20 minutes) while Desert Fires, her first for Saffron wields brevity, clean tones and repetition. Her biggest discs thus far are ‘11’s Glacial Glow, a co-release between Saffron and Weird Forest Recordings that exudes assurance and calm, and Fantastic Planet’s chronological and stylistic predecessor No Dreams; it appeared in ’13 on the prolific Massachusetts label Important.
Lipstate’s relationship to motion pictures has certainly impacted Noveller’s instrumental reality and in interesting ways; for one instance, cinephiles are likely to know that Fantastic Planet shares its name with the English title to René Laloux’s ’73 film La Planète sauvage (of which Alain Goraguer’s natty OST has been recently reissued on vinyl by Superior Viaduct).
And that connection might ultimately be a coincidence, but the manner of much of Fantastic Planet’s unfolding, specifically selections impacting like segments culled from a soundtrack, is hard to deny, though Lipstate does augment this scenario with concision and stabs of songic tunefulness. Opener “Into the Dunes” begins fairly conventionally, the structure glistening and indeed cinematic as threads of melody accent the gradually rising aura of tension.
At roughly the mid-way point it undergoes a major change, the guitar dishing out waves of clamorous pulsing riffs and spurts of occasional harshness to conjure a sound mildly similar to the noisier/artier side of the u-ground rock scene of yore (the associations with Ranaldo and Wm. Sims come into focus). Smartly, Lipstate avoids copying any prior models; instead she handily explores late-‘80s/early-‘90s noise-rock atmospherics that are easily imagined transpiring during a band practice held inside an abandoned meat locker. Dank!
However, “No Unholy Mountain” features her axe participating in a drifting, at times ethereal conversation with rhythmic elements and synth additives to produce an environment terse and pleasant. It moves directly into “Rubicon,” the track built upon a persistent cyclical pattern (a familiar motif heard on Glacial Glow and as far back as Desert Fires) that wouldn’t be a bit out of place on a record by Eno or even Battles as emerging layers of synth and guitar establish a foreboding mood somewhat reminiscent of electronic-pop’s subterranean provinces.
And in a welcome twist, “Sisters” opens on a gorgeous, seemingly African-descended guitar figure. Before long, aggressive electric lines enter the fray to skirmish with an uprising of vintage synthesizer secretions. A sort of futuristic march materializes to shape the electro-dominated midsection, a state of affairs that’s followed by strings crying out for liberation.
Crisp pretty notes also prevail at the start of “Concrete Dreams,” a succinct piece quickly transforming into another gliding soundscape and then just as rapidly shifting gears again; this time it’s an ominous setting briefly flirting with the glitchy. The cut leads into “Pulse Point,” Fantastic Planet’s lengthiest entry and a fitting companion to the earlier “Rubicon”
Audio rises slowly like mist from a morning lake in midsummer, Lipstate wrangling her instruments into a picturesque landscape of near tranquility only to have it all overtaken by the enveloping sound of an encroaching military helicopter; meanwhile, someone is rhythmically attacking the wall of that aforementioned meat locker with something large and metallic as cascades of synth-pop keyboard (the link to Cold Cave increases in clarity) enhance the whole.
“In February” unwinds methodically to reveal Lipstate’s adeptness at building suspense, though crucial to her success in this endeavor is how the composer-like tendency for precision eschews the clinical; to swipe a title of a Soft Boys’ song, Noveller is human music, a circumstance further emphasized by the frequency and versatility of the live performances.
Appropriate to its title, “Growing” becomes stronger as is unfurls, emitting sharp resonances atop a rhythm suggesting an echoing heartbeat. And the way the intertwining guitar progressions mix with the electronics in Fantastic Planet’s beautiful closer “The Ascent” does display hints of Fripp and Eno, though as it soars to a clever false-ending Lipstate’s approach is far more assertive and noise-cognizant.
“The Ascent”’s short coda brings the LP, pressed by her new label on aqua-hued vinyl, an impressive finale. Non-vocal music can often struggle to put forth a discernible personality, but across her last three efforts Lipstate has conquered that hurdle with a natural blend of the experimental and the accessible. After numerous listens Fantastic Planet feels like her best.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
