The Tarkovsky-esque essence of Paul Baran
The vast vista of a sophomore release from one of music’s most reclusive record labels
When it comes to Fang Bomb releases, we usually have to wear kid gloves and read the achtung before we approach the objects. Mostly because of two noteworthy reasons:
- Their availability in the cyber globe is directly related to how curious one is to decipher and decrypt them. Most artists in their uncanny catalog are completely comfortable with having limited copies or vinyl-only releases of their experimentations.
- Once you are in the trespass-with-tact Fang Bomb area, you start to forget (and eventually redefine) what you once believed was music. The lines begin to blur and you are no longer the same complacent conformist. And that is in fact very healthy for your future.
One of their most noteworthy releases is the sophomore album by Glasgow sound improviser Paul Baran and it is called The Other. I was lucky to be given a private stream of this 65-minute sonic turbulence. It was released in Amsterdam and offers a dense vocabulary as well as references to neo-liberalism and the dismal ego of the 21st century’s short history. Just like its formation, The Other has been patiently conceived by Baran over years. This can be correctly understood by listening to the eerie marriage of polyrhythmic piano loops and the acoustic guitar on an alarming slow burner like “The Human Republic Of Haiti”.
What you are listening to here however is “Time Zone”. Following the principles of its comrades on the album, it is riped on heavy and perplexing plinths with a Tarkovsky-esque essence fertilized with twisted Zizek disarrays. And this all can be frighteningly inaccessible when we put it into words like this. But it’s the inexplicable musicality of The Other that makes this educational journey worth your ticket.
You can purchase the CD here.