samedi 9 novembre 2013

PYRAMID PEAK: Anatomy (2013)

“What we have here with Anatomy is possibly the best EM album of 2013”


1 Anatomy 13:35
2 Iceland 14:23
3 Injection 13:38
4 Dark Energy 15:53
5 The Voyage 12:38

Pyramid Peak | PP1319 (CD 70:10) ***** (New Berlin School)

A meshing of cymbals makes chink its elytrons of metal in a Gothic Hear Hear!, introducing the somber waves of synth which twist themselves and float in a cacophonous intro. A delicate tremulous rhythm is beating awkwardly behind the dusts of this din where are grafted some lugubrious voices which hum in the mislaid airs of synths, pushing the title-track this last Pyramid Peak opus towards an ambiospherical intro where the rhythm strips off little by little of its chords and abandons its weak symmetric pulse. "Anatomy" strikes the cape of 5 minutes. And the bones of rhythm get organized behind a glittering curtain of abstruse breaths. The sequences clink and resound, like the echo of big drops in a cave, and the rhythm of "Anatomy" gets into our ears of its edged and jerked approach. The mark of Pyramid Peak. The sequences skip in all directions. Accepting the pulsations and the percussions, they fatten a structure of rhythm which gets excited under the melodious and charming solos of Andreas Morsch, Uwe Denzer and Axel Stupplich. The harmonious imprint of Pyramid Peak. Pyramid Peak is part of the crème in the spheres of EM of the New Berlin School style. The Berlin trio manages marvelously to weave structures of hypnotic rhythms where the down-tempo flirts with the up-tempo while drawing long musical routes of which the minimalist bases refuse nevertheless the simplicity. “Anatomy” is their 9th album, and I'm telling straight away; it's an inescapable. Built on 5 musical structures which border more or less the same length, “Anatomy” plunges us into the heart of the most beautiful years of the cosmic EM with slow intros which unblock on beautiful harmonious rhythms. Rhythms which skillfully change of skins and swap shapes towards and drift a mesmerizing sonic universe where the sequences flicker of their frivolity under the attacks of percussions which hammer the fragility of the ethereal ambiances with strikings which destabilize the listening.
A deep crackling pulsation awakens the voices of specters which whisper at the opening of "Iceland". The rhythm is linear and lively. It pulses deeply and non-stop, masking hardly the whisper which get lost in the soft caresses of a synth which spreads its mellotron mantle. There is storm of sequences with these bones of rhythms which feast in a static whirlwind where the dreamy harmonies of the synths are waltzing. And the percussions fall. They strike slowly these kicks of sequences which little by little agree to take away their greediness to make room to a superb down-tempo where sings a synth of its harmonies of diva. There is a whole rhythmic life under this lyrical pattern. A life which foments a harmonious duel with the knocks of crystal clear sequences of which the non-coordinated strikings perturb the ambiences a bit. Except that the soft melody of "Iceland" takes back the pole to seduce our ears until its last seconds. This is pure and very melodious Berlin School, just like "Injection" which starts with an ambiospherical intro. Foggy lines of synth float in a cave where ooze and chirp sonic prisms and resound distant gongs. We hear wolves howling, as we also hear coming by far a movement of sequences which makes its keys waddle and of which the delicate skipping reverberate in a stereophonic echo. Cymbals and percussions come to caress this structure of oscillatory rhythm with delicate hits, guiding "Injection" towards a beautiful rhythmic spiral à la Software. The rhythm is soft, mesmerizing. It swirls of lascivious sequences like an oblong stroboscopic circle around the percussions which slam. The hypnosis rages when more resonant chords enrich the structure by giving it a more dramatic dimension that pads of mellotron amplify of their veils which waltz among the breezes of ethereal voices. It's very beautiful, but not as much as "Dark Energy" which turns constantly in my head, and on my hi-fi system, with its delicious progressive structure. The cosmic violins which cry in the comfort of the gloomy voices bring us in the time of Software's Electronic Universe Part II. The rhythm evolves slowly with the presence of sequences which flit about in the last movements of waltz of the forsaken violins. A bass line comes to gather them. It pounds sinuously, entailing harmonious chords which align themselves in our head like a robot serenade. "Dark Energy" changes skin. The mood of oblivion becomes a funky/groove rhythm finely jerky that percussions turn immediately for a superb hypnotic down-tempo. And "Dark Energy" changes now color. The percussions click, whip and resound out of everywhere, jostling out the sequences and pulsations which go out of nowhere while that twisted and vampiric solos, as well as voices of cosmonauts, entail the listener in a sound frenzy not really far from these beautiful years when EM still had unexplored paths to put into music. Divine!
What is it the body and the cosmos have in common? Well, one should ask Andreas Morsch, Uwe Denzer and Axel Stupplich, because “Anatomy” is much more near the cosmos that our body. Unless that our body is in narrow relation with cosmos. That also it would be necessary to ask for it to Pyramid Peak. But no matter, “Anatomy” is an electronic cosmic ode without weaknesses. Everything is there! Evolutionary rhythms. Cosmic ambiences where the warmth comes haunting our soul with at the same time soft, moving and rather melancholic structures (the wonderful black down-tempo of "The Voyage"). And especially this broth of multidirectional sequences that the strikings of percussions return in an evolutionary multifaceted rhythmic order. “Anatomy” is some great and solid Pyramid Peak. Their best album to date where every second is splendidly thought. It's classical electronic music and possibly the best opus in 2013.

Sylvain Lupari (November 9th, 2013)
Cette chronique est également disponible en Français sur le site de Guts of Darkness, dont je suis chroniqueur sous le nom de Phaedream: http://www.gutsofdarkness.com/god/objet.php?objet=16514

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