(Stray Dog Army)
James Brewster’s latest offering is a 12-minute disc that constitutes a concise and effective example of his current vision, consisting of a basis of pretty unusual field recordings whose core essence gets profoundly modified by a thorough digital treatment. One might think that the short duration and a not exactly novel artistic concept would somehow hamper the appreciation of the final result, but it isn’t so: the three tracks are finely crafted artifacts where the apparently absurd links between everyday reality and total disengagement from truth are constantly under the eye of the beholder. There’s not an ounce of redundancy, every sound carefully chosen, manipulated and placed right where it should be. A sense of familiarity pervades even the most displacing fragments, the alternance of sudden close-ups on materiality and poisoned auras of insubstantial frequencies producing an ineluctable experience of complete belonging. I still have to understand to what, though.