Based in Brooklyn, RVNG Intl. specializes in progressive-minded sound creation frequently of an electronic nature. Featuring a diverse yet unified roster, the imprint’s FRKWYS series, a group of records documenting simpatico collaborations between younger and older artists, deserves special citation; FRKWYS Vol. 12: We Know Each Other Somehow details the meeting of Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe, ex-90 Day Men and of solo project Lichens, with saxophonist and avant-gardist Ariel Kalma. The resulting explorations are available on 2LP/CD/digital, and AV-lovers rejoice, for the physical formats are accompanied by a DVD containing a “feature-length exploratory documentary.”
The FRKWYS shebang began back in ’09 with Vol. 2, a 12-inch holding remixes of NYC outfit Excepter from Throbbing Gristle’s Chris & Cosey, JG Thirlwell of Foetus, and on a digital bonus Jack Dangers of Meat Beat Manifesto. Indeed, much of the early FRKWYS action was devoted to remixes, the tide later swinging to original collabs a la Vol. 6’s team-up of Julianna Barwick and Ikue Mori.
The series’ name is a play upon Folkways, the label started by Moses Asch in the late-‘40s, and if that reads as odd, lending an ear to a few FRKWYS volumes reveals a likeminded seriousness of intent extending to the RVNG discography overall; in fifty years it’s safe to predict listeners will look upon Vol. 9: Icon Give Thank by Sun Araw, M. Geddes Gengras and The Congos with a reverence similar to that paid to Folkways ’54 LP Jamaican Cult Music.
Succinctly, sound and its historical context is of the upmost importance; We Know Each Other Somehow is just the second FRKWYS set to offer an enhancing DVD, but it probably won’t be the last. And likewise, sonic creativity appears paramount to Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe, not only as Lichens and as a former member of Midwestern math rockers 90 Day Men, but as an associate to doom metal titans Om and that fount of u-ground experimentation Nurse with Wound.
Timon Irnok Manta, a pair of extended, darkly celestial synth drones, and notably Lowe’s first effort under his own name, was released on Type in ’12; RVNG portrays it as partially inspiring this partnership with Kalma. After getting together in San Francisco, the decision to record in the small Australian coastal community of Mullimbimby was made easy through Lowe’s tour of the continent with Om.
Some will know Ariel Kalma through An Evolutionary Music (Original Recordings: 1972 – 1979), a swell 2LP that emerged on RVNG last year to provide deep evidence of Kalma as a relatively undersung ambient and electro-acoustic innovator; amongst his credits is work as a staff tech at Pierre Henry’s INA GRM studio. And upon traveling to the US to join spiritually-inclined musical collective Arica, he ended up crossing paths with free jazz great Don Cherry. Unfortunately, it seems no recordings exist.
As the above comp shows, Kalma did cut some discs, and it’s ‘78’s Osmose, a prior collaboration with sculptor Richard Tinti utilizing field recordings from the Borneo rainforests, that specifically informs We Know Each Other Somehow, opener “Magick Creek” commencing with the captured sound of flowing water. But even as its 17 minutes spans the entirety of the first side, little time elapses before the surroundings are infiltrated by winding synth waves soon joined by Kalma’s saxophone.
An increasing number of threads interweave as “Magick Creek” progresses, and if there is a similarity to ’70 German kosmiche, the horn’s undeniably spiritual but pleasingly full-bodied expressiveness serves to expand the milieu as it avoids elevating into the ether of insubstantiality. Along the way tangible aspects of past techno movements mingle with birdsong; all the while the water’s flowing and flowing.
Side two corrals three shorter pieces, the most concise being “Mille Voix,” its title translating to “Thousand Voices.” Employing human vocals, it reinforces the spiritual and in fact attains an aura of religious worship, though the wordless singing and drone-friendly drift continue to promote an air of mysticism. By contrast, “Gongmo Kalma Lowe” begins in the territory of the avant-electronic pioneers, i.e. Kalma’s zone, and it’s not long before it takes on the tone of early-‘80s experimentalism once tagged as Industrial, thusly landing squarely in Lowe’s wheelhouse.
“Strange Dreams” is side two’s longest track, immediately establishing a keyboard motif that persists, with a short respite, for the duration. As the intensity subtly grows, it becomes a showcase for their use of pre-recorded material. Sometimes processed, occasionally looped, and at other moments left alone, it remains consistently interesting throughout, which for a double set (longer on CD due to a bonus selection, and longest digitally as “Mille Voix” gets an extra “Infinite Version”) is impressive.
Two lengthy cuts fill up the third and forth sides and it’s in these settings that Lowe and Kalma excel. The low-toned reed instrument-derived bedrock of “Wasp Happening” is especially worthwhile; its ethereality should appeal to New Agers and/or “Hearts of Space” fans, but it’s also tough and raw enough to easily stoke the interest of heavy drone partisans.
At roughly the mid-way point the ambiance is like a synthetic equivalent of a gang of throat-singing monks. In the second half, synth cascades arise and lend a touch of the retro-futuristic, but the environment is never trite; instead it’s slightly eerie, and clear is how Lowe and Kalma’s objective isn’t the approximation of earlier eras but rather a timeless synthesis. Across this album they largely succeed.
“Miracle Mile” starts in audio vérité mode. Someone’s obviously walking; as their footsteps trail off the business of insects and birds lingers. Quickly arriving is the most pronounced rhythmic orientation of the record, though it never approaches anything danceable, at least not in a club sense. There are a few spots where Kalma’s sax playing conjures images of him soloing from the bow of a houseboat while wearing a white suit with the jacket’s sleeves rolled up, but they swiftly pass, and the whole goes down very nicely, in particular an incessant synth repetition that almost becomes infectious.
As said, We Know Each Other Somehow has non-LP bonuses, but as also related above, the vinyl and CD do come with a DVD of Sunshine Soup, Misha Hollenbach and Johann Rashid’s documentary. Described as “non-linear,” the movie’s trailer supports that depiction, inferring an avant-garde experience fitting Lowe and Kalma’s aims.
It’s also in keeping with the series’ titular nod to Folkways, for in the 1950s the distance between Leadbelly and Maya Deren was much closer than a mind might think. A similar point can be made about We Know Each Other Somehow, Lowe and Kalma’s meeting avoiding strained significance and relying upon natural affinities in its cross-generational construction.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
