Bay Area electronic composer Gregg Kowalsky, whose chamber electroacoustic compositions are documented on the one-side LP Tendrils In Vigne (Root Strata, 2008), recorded in 2005, composed the seven droning ambient pieces of
Through The Cardial Window (Kranky, 2006).
The mini-album
Tape Chants Arroyo (2007) contains two lengthy "psalms": the
subliminal
Psalm 121 for sparse church bells and fluctuating radio signal,
and a rhythmic experiment that could belong to an album of minimal techno,
Psalm 118 for power-drill and distant rumble, although he slowly
and methodically disintegrates the noise through a process a` la
William Basinski.
Kowalsky's main effort went into the "tape chants". These were live performances
in which the polyphony was created by simultaneously playing a number of drones
recorded on mono cassettes placed around the audience in such a way that
each listener would perceive a slightly different version of the piece.
The mini-album Tape Chants A Million (Root Strata, 2006) already
documented
a 33-minute live performance of such chants.
The colossal Indian-inspired drones are reminiscent of
LaMonte Young's "dream house" but they vary
a lot more and a lot more often as Kowalsky alters the volume of each of them
during the performance thus emphasizing one or the other.
Unfortunately, it feels very much like a sequence of idea rather than an
organic piece of music in time.
More cassette-driven compositions surfaced on
Tape Chants (Kranky, 2009).
The 21-minute fairly static "om" drone of I-IV sounded again a bit naive and self-indulgent despite the subtle manner in which Kowalsky materializes a
heartbeat-like pulsation (a case of "too late" if not "too little").
Ditto for the 13-minute VI-VII, another monolithic drone that morphs
slowly like a rotating prism while exposed to different lighting.
The haunting, suspenseful IX does a much better job in just four minutes
thanks to a glitchy background noise and some disappearing piano notes.
Another morbid noir atmosphere is created by X-XI, that, again,
disposes with the pretentious spiritual overtones and focuses on psychology.
By now the "chants" had developed into conventional electronic compositions
and lost all of their original contextualization.
Date Palms was a collaboration with Marielle Jakobsons that indulged in
a kind of ambient Indian shoegazing whose most obvious referent is
Popol Vuh's Hosianna Mantra.
Their debut Of Psalms (ThrillJockey, 2010) indulged in
droning exotic instruments and languid melodies.
The anemic raga Psalm 7 slowly decomposes into an abstract soundscape
of discreet languid tones, the musical equivalent of someone falling asleep.
Psalm 3 Intro is just a mellow tinkling tapestry.
The 14-minute Psalm 3 continues that inward trip but this time
wavering fuzztones create both movement and tension before a whole swarm of
droning stringed instruments takes over leading to a polyphonic symphony of
sorts.
Psalm 4 is a "rocking" piece in that it has a pulsing eletronic polyrhythm and a distorted riff that is looped around in a spiraling manner. The two
undercurrents influence each other and evolve respectively into a
Steve Reich-ian
minimalist pattern and a
Jimi Hendrix-ian guitar improvisation.
The organ-tinged Psalm 5 creates psychedelic suspense via a
skeletal noir slow-motion version of
Pink Floyd's Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun or Weather Report jamming with slocore kings Low.
Date Palms' Honey Devash (Mexican Summer, 2011) contains
Honey Devash, possibly their most solemn piece yet, an
electroacoustic raga for sitar and electronics with
suspenseful jazzy piano notes and a repeating King Crimson-ian bass melody
that ends in a tranquil (almost funereal) state of mind.
The flute-driven
Honey Dune, however, is a bit too bucolic and celestial, with little
or no development, not redeemed by the somnolent drumming by the last five
minutes and by the reprise of the bass melody.
The mini-album
Battery Townsley (2011) documents a live performance.
L'Orange L'Orange (2017), Gregg Kowalsky's first solo album in eight years, is certainly not groundbreaking. Mostly, it is preoccupied with
simple droning electronic ambient music.
A whiff of fluttering chords lifts Tuned to Monochrome to
Harold Budd-esque heavens.
Ritual Del Croix is psychedelically refracted and hazy.
Blind Contour Drawing for Piano 5:14
