Aural Aggravation

Karlecords – 12th April 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

This three-way collaboration promises ‘intense, menacing layers of thick drones and alien sounds,’ and comes laced with sadness in the wake of the recent passing of Phill Niblock.

Karlrecords’ statement around this release and how it came to be is simple, direct, and worth quoting here:

In summer 2022, within just a few weeks and by pure coincidence, 2 proposals regarding Phill Niblock albums arrived: one suggesting an overdue vinyl reissue of a CD release (more on that when the time has come for it), the other email was from Anna Clementi saying she and Thomas Stern were working on new pieces that Phill Niblock has written for her … when Zound Delta 2 was complete, Phill sent photographs for the two artworks, we met twice to discuss details, but unfortunately he died unexpectedly early January this year so the album now is, sad as it is, a posthumous release … an intense goodbye from one of 20th century most iconic composers.

While Niblock departure was sudden and unexpected, it’s remarkable that not only had he enjoyed a career spanning five decades and ranging across minimalist and experimental music, film and photography, but that at the age of ninety, he remained prolific until his final days, as Looking for Daniel, released in February, and representing his final compositions, evidences.

Like Looking for Daniel, Zound Delta 2 contains two longform composition, and, again, it’s a monumental drone-orientated work. ‘Zound Delta 2’ is eerie, other-worldly, haunting and atmospheric. Ethereal voices hum and moan, breathy wordless monastic incantations come together and emanate disembodied exhalations as if calling from the other side. No doubt the actual source sounds and the process was quite banal and workaday, but the effect… the effect sends shovers all over and goosebumps pickle in response to this chilling swell of sound. Beneath the moans and cries are slow-turning rumbles and delicate, wisp-like ambience. Everything sounds slowed down and stretched, sound suspended in time and space as they hang in the air. The layers wrap around one another, and while minimal in form, a density of atmosphere builds which makes it hard to catch your breath.

Sometimes, a dream can affect the shape and mood of the entire day which follows, and this has been one of those days for me. More often than not, it’s simply a hangover of anxiety or a sense of doom which looms, but since my wife died early last year, I’ve dreamed of her only rarely, so when I do, the impact is great, and if feels as if she’s speaking to me, even when there’s no obvious message. Invariably, she’s well again in my dreams, or at least looks healthy again, and sometimes, she imparts words or wisdom. But mostly, it feels a if her presenting in my dreams is a reminder, a kind of haunting. The reason I take this diversion isn’t purely a matter of indulgence, but because it’s relevant to the tone of ‘Zound Delta 2’, which creates the sensation of Niblock pre-empting his departure with a recording which sounds as if it’s being projected from beyond. The abstract voices aren’t tortured hellish howls, but the sound of purgatorial lostness, wandering in between worlds, wanting to communicate, to be heard, but without the capacity for articulation.

Perhaps this isn’t the album I should be listening to tonight – but then again, perhaps it is. Culturally, we avoid talk of death, we shield our eyes from it. As the sole inevitability of life, we need to turn and confront it. ‘Zound Delta 2’ is without doubt one of the most powerful, intense, moving and difficult pieces I can recall hearing. It is so, so sad, so far beyond human, so far beyond this realm. It feels like the purest grief, the deepest of sadness, the ultimate release, the sound of being dragged, unsuspectingly, into the spirit realm. Everything collapses and eddies into a disorientating swirl of sound in the tracks final minutes, growing evermore uncomfortable.

‘Zound Delta 2 (Version)’ is fractionally shorter, but no less comfortable. Again, it begins quite gently, almost delicately and emanating an air of tranquillity – but it’s soon disrupted by creeping undertones of distortion. There’s squelching, trudging, sloshing and rumbling discomfort amidst uneasy drones and heavy flutters, and if it’s momentarily lighter than the ‘original’ version, this alternative or second version swiftly evolves to become pure tension. As it progresses, ‘Version’ become more uncomfortable, more distorted, more strangled, tortured, and asphyxiated. I feel my muscles tighten and my head spin. It’s dark, it’s tense, it’s difficult.

Clearly, it would be erroneous to presume that Niblock was aware of his limited time. But something about Zound Delta 2 feels like a planned exchange from a place beyond our experience and understanding. It’s as if he had stepper over some time before, and brought something back and shared it with his collaborators for this work.

Any response to a musical work is personal, subjective. Perhaps my in-the-moment reaction is coloured by timing, by the moment of the now – bad timing. But – BUT… something about Zound Delta 2 is intrinsically hard to manage, touching a subconscious level that really triggers something. As slops and churns wash and eddy around the eternal drones which form the dominant fabric of the album, Zound Delta 2 tugs at our feet and ankles and disturbs the ground beneath our feet. Dark and dank, Zound Delta 2 is not an album to listen to in the dark.

AA