Seth Cluett - Forms of Forgetting [Line - 2014] | Here’s another cd from the Line label, predictably packaged in their usual, minimalist beauty. ‘Forms of Forgetting’ has a front cover depicting flaking, painted wood; whilst the back cover explains the themes of the release as memory and forgetting. The album contains one long track, named as per the album the itself, and running to nearly fifty-six minutes. ‘Forms of Forgetting’ is dominated by long, low-key drones - actually ‘tones’ is a better choice of word. These cut straight lines through the piece, but also oscillate and modulate, creating beating tones and discordancies. The track begins by introducing some of these lines, but accompanies them with an odd distant ‘noise’ - there are several occasions where Cluett deploys ‘non-drone’ elements, and they stick out conspicuously as events in the overall scheme. Indeed, the next ‘event’ occurs pretty soon after, around seven minutes; when a strange sound akin to sped up breathing appears - it actually reminds the ear of a cat purring. Before, during, and after this, the tones predominate; often sounding like feedback tones, they resonate and shift in accordance with the listener’s placing to the speakers. More often than not, the tones themselves are literally ‘straight lines’, but interact with each other to produce pulses, throbs and beats, as well as strange, cold melodies; however, some of them do appear to be more actively shifting, though this may well be a simple aural hallucination. (This might also account for some of the odd reverberations to be found.) At extremes, this creates looping, wheezing synth lines; faltering and dying - though still overwhelmingly ‘clean’ in sound. The piece is essentially a resonant, dynamic drone; constructed from a directed tangle of strong tones. This is a great piece, entrancing and visceral - its very hard to listen to ‘casually’. Whilst presenting a ‘stasis’ of sorts, it’s actually built around many smaller elements across it’s duration. In the simplest terms, it begins and ends quietly, with a concentrated, loud swelling after the twenty minute mark - but at no point does it feel like a formal, or process, piece. To follow on from this, I will be honest and say, that frankly my brain couldn’t relate the text spiels on forgetting and memory to the track. Its possible that there are repeated or corrupted movements and passages, but given the very abstracted and basic materials of the piece, its hard to tell. Beyond anything else, I also find these kinds of works somewhat brain-halting - almost brainwashing: the mind gets so trapped in the present moment, that it can’t process anything else. Regardless, this is another superb release from a label that rarely seems to put a foot wrong: very recommended. Martin P
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