Walls

Having made a considerable splash with the Ellen Allien collaboration Orchestra of Bubbles, Apparat returned to his own path with Walls, a remarkable album that ranks as his best yet. Beginning with the gentle string and vibes beats of "Not a Number" -- which in its own melancholy way, combined with the title, suddenly sounds like one of the most humanistic songs yet recorded, passionate in its elegant sorrow -- Walls takes a simultaneously familiar and unsettled path. While the continuing impact of disparate strands of music -- the fallout of My Bloody Valentine and its many imitators, the electronic obsessions of Warp, the stadium-ready melancholy of early Radiohead and its own horde of followers -- has resulted in a 21st century computer music of crushed sorrow; on Walls, Apparat transcends the downbeat limitations of the incipient form with astonishing grace. Hearing how what could be a standard filter-house volume build in "Limelight" becomes a fierce trap for a voice barely understandable, or how the post-Jeff Buckley/Thom Yorke woundedly sweet vocal on "Arcadia" actually means something working alongside the busily frenetic beats make the listener regard familiar approaches in a sudden new light. Meantime, "You Don't Know Me," which appears towards the album's conclusion, might actually be the best song on it. While there are a lot of songs that could be described as soundtracking a nonexistent film, this actually feels like it, strings and a handclap beat creating a pitch-perfect atmosphere to the end of a romantic movie. Raz Ohara's various vocal appearances throughout are nice additions but the highlight is "Hold On," where his perfectly in-the-moment R&B style contrasts the squelching bass and nervous but righteous groove to a T. ~ Ned Raggett

エレン・アリエンとの共作やネイサン・フェイクのリミックスなどで最近どんどん知名度を上げているアパラットが、シットカタパルトから新作をリリース。生楽器と複雑にプログラミングされたシーケンスを独特のセンスで上手くまとめ上げたエレクトロニカで、一音一音をじっくり聴き込めば聴き込むほど音の美しさやメロディーの広大さに気付かされる奥深い仕上がりだ。こういうアルバムって意外と少なかったりするんですよね!
bounce (C)石井 隆弘