France’s Richard Pinhas first came to prominence as the leader of the cult prog outfit Heldon, but since the unit’s disbandment in 1979 the composer, guitarist, and electronics specialist has amassed a striking number of solo and collaborative efforts. Comprising the more positive half of a recent discographical spurt, Mu is a joint venture in tandem with fellow guitarist Barry Cleveland; featuring the talents of bassist Michael Manring and drummer Celso Alberti, it’s out now on CD and digital through Cuneiform Records.
The early entries in Richard Pinhas’ solo discography actually coincide with the existence of Heldon. Rhizosphere, Chronolyse, and Iceland emerged during the years ’77-’79, and all three recordings have since been returned to print by the persevering Silver Spring, MD label Cuneiform; they’ve done the same with Heldon’s oeuvre and the vast majority of Pinhas’ productivity since, both solo and in collaboration.
Over the decades Pinhas has proven adept at creative partnerships, with his counterparts including countrymen John Livengood, Pascal Comelade, and Noël Akchote, Australian Oren Ambarchi, Detroit noise act Wolf Eyes, and Japan’s Tatsuya Yoshida and Masami Akita aka Merzbow, who join Pinhas on Process and Reality, Mu’s darker and heavier correlative, also out on Cuneiform (watch this space for a review). With Mu, the San Francisco-based guitarist Barry Cleveland expands the list.
While Pinhas is far from a household name, his reputation as a progressive-minded yet consistently edgy instrumentalist is secure. Initially quite taken by Robert Fripp’s numerous innovations both solo and as part of King Crimson, Heldon’s underground stature buffered against any punk-related fallout as the ’70s roared to its conclusion; esteemed as a forward-thinking experimentalist concerned with sonic textures over proficiency, avant-prog was his niche as he sparked interest from discerning fans of electronic music and even industrial (think Throbbing Gristle and Nurse with Wound rather than Wax Trax!).
Like Pinhas, Barry Cleveland is more concerned with musicality than virtuoso moves, though a 12-year gig as editor for Guitar Player magazine definitely reinforces the importance of technique in his approach. Emerging on record in the second half of the 1980s, Cleveland has been fairly tagged as a purveyor of a world-fusion, but his appealing ’86 debut Mythos presents something of an electronic/ New Ageist/ space music scenario, its ambient qualities never becoming overly tranquil.
Subsequent releases did lean nearer to the world-fusion intersection, but 2010’s Hologramatron, which roped in the vocals of Amy X Neuburg for six tracks and the pedal-steel guitar of Robert Powell for ten, was a real departure; rather than Cleveland’s previously established instrumental soundscapes, the rhythm section of Michael Manring and Celso Alberti solidified a rock-tinged foundation for intelligent, occasionally art-laced, and sometimes pop-savvy songwriting.
Hologramatron spawned the band of the same name, and after securing opening slots for Pinhas’ California gigs, the two guitarists were inspired to work together. A few live performances as a duo followed, and for recording purposes they agreed upon Manring and Alberti as contributors. The quartet worked fast, with the resulting 2013 session lasting less than four hours; afterward it was subject to Cleveland’s extensive overdubbing, arranging, processing, and mixing.
To quote Cleveland from the promo text, his “production and mixing fingerprints are all over” the disc. Indeed, the environment definitely harkens back to his own material pre-Hologramatron, though courtesy of Pinhas’ extended serving of guitar-synth the opener “Forgotten Man” possesses a slightly tougher edge. It’s also the only selection lacking Manring and Alberti’s involvement as Cleveland added programmed percussion and a thematic melody landing somewhere between Ennio Morricone and Joe Meek.
The last reference point might inspire a double take, but please understand that in addition to offering a nifty version of “Telstar” on Hologramatron Cleveland wrote a book on the idiosyncratic Brit producer, Joe Meek’s Bold Techniques. Alongside Pinhas’ input, the track’s strong suit derives from how Cleveland deftly avoids pastiche in cultivating a cinematic aura around the imagery of the title.
At 25:33, “I Wish I Could Talk in Technicolor” is Mu’s centerpiece, its length allowing Pinhas’ Metatronic looping system to coincide and interact with Cleveland’s arsenal of bowing maneuvers as their associates enter the conversation; prior to working as house bassist for the New Age label Windham Hill and playing in the electric-period Miles Davis tribute band Yo Miles! (beside string ace Henry Kaiser, trumpet great Wadada Leo Smith, and others), Manring was mentored by Jaco Pastorius, and his warm, wiggly post-fusion tone definitely reinforces the connection.
To his credit, as the track unwinds he avoids a frequent affliction suffered by many plugged-in bassists of a jazzy constitution, namely grandstanding. Described by Cuneiform as “arguably the world’s leading solo electric bassist,” Manring reaps the accolade through good judgment as he becomes an integral and equal component in the track’s rich improvisational weave.
The same is true for the Brazilian-born Alberti. Credits including Airto Moreira and Flora Purim, Steve Winwood, Herbie Mann, Kai Eckhardt, and the San Francisco-based Brazilian band Terra Sul basically leave no doubt that Alberti has chops to spare, and in the later portion of “I Wish I Could Talk in Technicolor”’s midsection he really gets the chance to shine, his playing abstract and energetic.
The jazzy elements spread into “Zen/Unzen.” The presence of Moog guitar, MIDI guitar, Echoplex, and the persistent use of loops deepens an ’80s high fidelity art-prog aura, with threads of world-fusion continuing to strengthen the fabric; it’s pretty obvious that old school lovers of Jon Hassell, Brian Eno, David Sylvian, Fripp, David Torn etc. would’ve loved this CD had it came out at the time.
It didn’t; hitting the racks in 2016, Mu strikes this writer’s ears far more pleasurably than it likely would’ve 30 years back, but this observation relates to personal growth and not lowered expectations; the relatively succinct final track “Parting Waves” underscores the album’s Buddhist-informed agreeability, its floating, glistening, and environmentally-inclined textures ending the disc on a decidedly New Age note. Based on these results further collaboration by Pinhas and Cleveland would be welcome.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
