Posts Tagged ‘Neuro… No Neuro’

Neuro… No Neuro – Positive*

Posted: 2 December 2023 in Albums
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Mille Plateaux – 1st December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s always exciting to hear what electronic experimentalism Neuro… No Neuro have cooked up, and Positive* is the second album this year, following on from the collection of glitchy snippets which comprised Compartments back in January. Just as Compartments was a very different project from its predecessor, Faces & Fragments, so Positive* explores very different territory from the ‘Kawaii-Glitch’ of Compartments.

As the accompanying notes explain, ‘Positive* by Neuro… No Neuro is based upon thin slices of memory, and the disintegration of their existence. The day-to-day, with its ‘ups and downs’, all while operating/existing above and to the right of the body. When the day ends, and the separated is reunited; how does one collect what is no longer there? …Separating consciousness from the corporeal… Memory and thought are being swept out to sea in granules that are imperceptible to those around you. Short term is riddled with inconsistencies…Say “so long” to the granules.’

It’s all about focus, and the focus of Positive* is very different from any previous projects. And when it comes to projects like this, details are important. In context, it’s ok to focus on those details, and to do so isn’t obsessive or excessively picky, but to engage with a creative work on the basis of its design, its intent. I preface my assessment this way because the first thing I’m drawn to, before hearing a single note, is the asterisk in the title. Such a mark denotes a footnote, an aside, a necessary commentary on the subject.

But there is not one appended to the accompanying notes. What can it mean? Is this an accidental omission? It seems unlikely, and as such, one can only conclude that it’s for the reader to decipher the nature of the discourse. In my own experience of academic writing, it’s often the case that the real commentary and the grain of the research lies in the notes, and so it is the case here.

‘This Time for Sure’ brings some stuttering ambient drum ‘n’ bass which arrives in a drift of Japanese-inspired scales, bit there are some subtle details and textures to be found low down in the mix. It certainly sets the tone for this comparatively delicate collection of pieces, most of which are fairly fleeting, sitting around the two-and-a-half-minute mark on average.

Each of the titles pins a positive slant on neutral or even potentially negative scenarios – ‘Even I can See this Now’, ‘When You Actually Want to Wake Up’, ‘Drier days Ahead’ – all feel like phrases uttered the kind of pep talks you might give yourself in times of struggle. C’mon, you can do this! Sometimes, try as you might, it still feels empty and futile, and as oft as you repeat it, you struggle to believe it.

‘When You Actually Want to Wake Up’ perhaps represents this struggle most keenly, a loping glitch like the back and forth internal monologue you struggle to overcome: yes… no… yes… no… just get up… but…’

‘Of Course You Know it All’ has an implied snarky, snideness to its title, but it’s still positive, right? Its glitchy, picky, chiming mellowness float beneath some pinging arcs, while the sweeping ambience of ‘Almost Through’ arrives with a sense of sagging fatigue, the kind of positivity many feel in the last half hour of the working week – fagged out and clinging to that point of release.

The world is dark and life is a grind, and it’s often difficult to see the light, the positive aspects among it all – and they are few and far between. Platitudes like ‘at least I have a job’ or ‘at least I have my health’ don’t really carry much conviction. Sure, there’s always someone worse off, but it’s hardly saying much. It’s ok to be negative, to be discontent.

And perhaps it’s here we finally come to understand and appreciate the asterisk. Positive* is, overall, melodic, and feels quite uplifting, being gentle, the urgent beats tempered by ambience and melodicism. It’s actually – dare I say it – quite nice. But finding those uptempo, upbeat aspects, maintaining balance, is hard as you juggle and struggle to keep things together, a day at a time. And perhaps this is how we can best appreciate Positive*. Just as memory drifts and floats, so does our capacity to continue onwards and to stay afloat. All you can do is hang in there.

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Neuro… No Neuro – Compartments

Posted: 23 January 2023 in Albums
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Mille Plateaux – 20th January 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Less than a year on from Faces & Fragments, Neuro… No Neuro are back again with another substantial instalment of scratchy, glitchy electronica that’s rich in retro vibes.

Each piece is short – around two minutes – and drifts into the next. As the air floats past carrying soft analogue notes on a gentle waft, you suddenly realise you’re already five tracks in. It’s not that Compartments is undemanding, so much as that it’s subtle, meaning that it circulates in the atmosphere without dominating your headspace in an intrusive fashion.

The beats are backed off, even as they stutter and troll, flicker and jar. There’s a softness about the sounds and the way these woozy, warped snippets trickle together that’s almost soporific, especially when tinkling chimes cascade in ripples.

The Mille Plateaux website describes Compartments as Kawaii-Glitch (Kawaii being the Japanese culture of cuteness), noting that ‘The very artificial glitch aesthetics are not, as usual, depicted by a cold and sterile feeling; but quite contrary have the qualities of an artificial sweetener… Be careful when associating kawaii with just sweet, innocent or cute notions… just as Anime often masks grown-up topics with ‘childish’ surface structures, the album underlies a soft darkness & melancholy. Sometimes the unspeakable comes in disguise. Like the fashion style Yami-Kawaii, a bizarre mixture of kawaii-aesthetics with questions of depression and suicide, this album offers a mixillogical splice of life in which every second might take a turn into the irreal and eerie. To make distinctions between what is real and what are delusions, dreams or nightmares, emotional highs and lows, becomes impossible. In some sense it is ‘too much’ while still minimalistic in style.’

On the penultimate track, ‘Just Crumbling,’ things seem to come apart at the seams as stammering beats fly away from sounds firing in all directions like breaking springs. The temperature drops further at the finale, as those split sprockets echo into the cold night air and as the final sounds of the bonus-length last track, We’ll be Seeing You Soon’, which clanks and echoes for a fill four minutes, fade away, I sit, full, aurally content and calm… and worried. What subliminal toxicity has this album dispersed internally? How will I feel about Compartments once I begin to process and digest its multi-faceted contents? I don’t know but then, I don’t know if II trust what I heard, or my instincts on how to react. There is definitely more to Compartments than first meets the ear.

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Neuro… No Neuro – Faces & Fragments

Posted: 17 February 2022 in Albums
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Audiobulb Records – 2nd March 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

Experimental and underground music, particularly of the electronic persuasion is a broad field, but, it would seem, a small world.

During lockdown, the Nim Brut label hosted a series of virtual gigs, where performers would submit sets accompanied by visuals, and the resulting streams were varied and eclectic, in the best possible way, presenting the full breadth of the melting pot of a diverse and disparate milieu. As is so often the case with events of this ilk, everyone was not lonely accommodating, but welcoming toward one another, celebrating the differences in style and approach.

Feast 5, back in August of 2021, was a belter, and not only because as half of …(Something) Ruined I got to unleash new brutal noise in a safe environment, but got to do so alongside some remarkable artists, notably Omnibael, who have featured a number of times here. Also on the bill was a performance so brief as to barely be an interlude, something I described as a ‘shifting wave of glitchronic ambience’ courtesy of Neuro… No Neuro, of whom I knew nothing, until today, when on the arrival of Faces & Fragments in my inbox, I learn that NNN is ‘a moniker of the electronic musician Kirk Markarian, an avid synthesist, drummer, abstract painter, and graphic designer residing on the alluvial plain of the Sonoran Desert, in dry and dusty Tucson, Arizona’.

The title is a fitting summary of the album, both its input and outputs, and the lived experience of listening to the thirteen pieces, which are as much collages as compositions.

As the liner notes explain, ‘Each track illuminates fragments of memory and speech, as they wander out of focus in the growing aperture of time.’

As such, each piece is formed, sculpted and layered, from an array of sounds and sources, snippets, and scatterings, fleeting and ephemeral; chiming notes ring out over soft washes, sporadic glops and plops, like drops of water falling in a cave, overlaid with brief fragments of voices. On ‘Everybody is Out to Get You’, those voices slow, distort, blur, into a nightmarish nagging. It drags on the psyche, against a skittering, jarring backdrop what warps and tugs unsettlingly, and makes for awkward, queasy listening.

Neuro… No Neuro’s own comments on the album’s formulation and function bring us closer to the heart of the state of confusion it creates, explaining, “Each track shares the ‘fragments’ of speech/memory, the growing aperture of time and loss of thought. While forming sentences via type has not declined (because there is time available), speech and recollection are steadily decaying into simplified phrases and poor playback for quick address.’

As William Burroughs said, the function of writing is to ‘make us aware of what we know and don’t know we know’, and this was particularly pertinent in the context of the cut-up texts he produced, essentially collages of other texts designed to recreate the real-time experience of memory and sensory awareness, and the simultaneity of events. We do not live in linear time; we experience multiple sensations simultaneously; thoughts, sounds, conversations, things happening around us all occur on the same timeline, in layers, and our memories record these experiences. This is the sensation that Neuro… No Neuro recreates with Faces & Fragments, from the stop start jittering of ‘Slice of Mind’, to the trickling sedation of ‘And the Energy Goes Back to the Ground’.

The faces blur into anonymity after a while; people look alike and are strange or strangely familiar, and things can get confusing after a while. Faces & Fragments may not – and probably doesn’t sound just like your internal monologue or the soundtrack to your life, but structurally, the resemblances are clear once you step back and reflect. Our thoughts are a jumble of intrusions and overlaps, with memories and recollections triggered by the most random associations and events, sometimes with seemingly no trigger at all, and all flitting through at the same time as you’re watching TV or scrolling through social media shit on your phone as messages and emails ping in and there are conversations and the radio or TV is dribbling away while dinner’s bubbling away in the oven. Life never stops: it happens constantly and all at once, overlapping, overwhelming. Faces & Fragments is a slice of life.

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