(Psi)

It is by now extremely clear that FURT, the electronic duo of Richard Barrett and Paul Obermayer, is the right pick to obliterate any lingering attachment to “average” music, at least in the logic of “event-mental digestion of the event-move to the next event”. The course of action underlying an oeuvre this intricate can’t be accurately described by a simple review and, what’s more, Richard Barrett’s extensive liners give an ideal account of the involved mechanics through the narration of the origin of these performances. Let’s just say that in this scenery the machines assume a dynamic role, responding to thousands of inputs bequeathed by the soloists as if endowed with their own individuality, and that the project’s management does a masterful job of connection of the right wires. The contributors here include Phil Minton, Paul Lovens, John Butcher, Ute Wassermann (the track where she’s featured is extraordinary), Rhodri Davies and Wolfgang Mitterer. FURT lay bare, once and for all, that truth is only a gadget: by listening to such a recording one discovers dozens of different realities amassed in time frames of milliseconds. Obsequiousness? Forget about it. We’re attacked more often than not, although many spots exist where an indisputable will of scattering the elements at work around becomes evident, the gibber-and-chatter of instruments and voices occupying our psychological space in ways that, apparently regular, reveal instead to be reasonably paranormal. A series of electroacoustic dismemberments that might cause serious damage to the unprepared (Where is my rhythm? Where is my melody?), no way to retaliate: this is physical matter that must be shipped, swallowed and acknowledged, a corpulent wrestler jumping on a frail body, forcing the victim to listen – in painful detail – to all the sounds that squeezed muscles and fractured bones emit. There isn’t room for that sort of coyness that renders improvisational units a marketable commodity after the initial illusion of self-sufficiency, that blasé, bourgeois stance transforming free music into a “class” giving shelter to flocks of inverted snobs. The aesthetic of the grotesque and the sharpest kind of reactivity to the impulse share a roof in FURT’s vision, alimenting our only recent hopes in the struggle against musical obsolescence. Tremendous substance everywhere in a greatly recommended (plus) release.

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