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cat-nr: verazität: 042, release date: Jan. 2006, ltd.-edition: 60, mp3 
`Reservated´ is the result of a sounds-and-words event held by Lyd og Litteratur in Aarhus, Denmark in 2003. The recordings are the `soundtrack´ to parts of a book written by Christian Haun. | |
`Wäldchengarten from Denmark. For years now they have been going strong. 'Reservatet' is an older project, from 2003, when they were asked to put some music to a book of the same name by Christian Haun. Some excerpts are reprinted on the cover, but it's hard to tell what the book is about. The music is one piece of thirty minutes of what seems to me a duo of guitar playing. Strumming and bowing the strings, the two brothers that form Wäldchengarten play a heavy version of post-rock. Long sustained sounds form a the backbone of the piece, but the distortion pedals are never far away here, making this into quite a massive drone party. Maybe a bit too heavy for the real drone purists out there, but perhaps it fits the book well? It's less refined than their previous release 'Electrical Bonding' (see Vital Weekly 465), but as said this is a work from before that. Maybe something for the real diehards.´ by frans de waard @ vital weekly This excellent release was composed as the soundtrack to certain sections of ‘Reservatet,’ a book by the Danish writer Christian Haun. The piece was featured at a sounds-and-words event held by Lyd og Litteratur in Aarhus, Denmark on 2003. The excerpt from the book contained in the booklet chronicles the experience of a young woman who has recently gone through the often-traumatic experience of an abortion. As she attempts to return to her normal life, she realizes that she is agoraphobic and has difficulty relating to other people. She comes to understand that she fears people, and in spite of her efforts to explain her feelings to her doctor, she lies about the abortion, about the intensity of her fears, and about the voice that comes from within her head. The music itself is a gorgeous, 30-minute composition. The beginning of the piece moves from deep sepulchral drones to tolling bells and chimes, the echoed facets of madness and loneliness. One can perfectly picture a young woman alone in her room, clinging to the shadows with as much tenacity as she clings to her bedclothes, afraid of the world beyond the doorways. As high-pitched peals vibrate the room, she sees something move in her periphery, something falls to the floor and clatters. The creeping panic of schizophrenia is represented as a fugue of jittering violins. Creaking bows move across suffering strings, and the drones return, this time underscored by looped guitar strokes. Tension builds and she stands slowly, moving across the apartment searching from room to room for this invisible invader. The voice speaks; it’s the world that is sick, it tells her, not you. The deep, menacing vibrations grow louder, darker, and finally fade into bright blooms of sound that call to mind spring and rebirth, sunlight reflects in the glass of her window and calmness overtakes her. She sits down at the dining room table and hums to herself. Gliding across the morning horizon, the drones soar and pitch, locked in a dance with this glimmering, echoed guitar refrain. From here the darkness rises again, and comes to blot out all light, swallowing everything beyond her windows, until she is left with herself and her sickness, convinced by the voice that it is not she, but the world that is unhealthy. Truly epic. by heathen harvest | ||