New Music From Andrea Pensado + id m theft able, Sudan Archives
Andrea Pensado + id m theft able
Andrea Pensado + id m theft able
(Maang)
It only makes sense to pair these two artists—Andrea Pensado and id m theft able—who defy the underground realm classification of “one-person improvised noise/electronics band” by cultivating their own creative worlds, persistently combining bizarre vocalizations with stimulating barrages of disconnected aural fragments.
Two collisions of these two sound planets are documented on the new album at hand—available on cassette and as digital downloads on Bandcamp—featuring two live 20-minute collaborative performances in Portland, Maine, the homebase of id m theft able.
Born in Argentina and currently operating in Massachusetts, Pensado studied composition and computer music in Poland and delivers her agitated vocals and flustered electronics in solo work and collaborative groups such as Phurnne and Los Condenados.
Shrouded in mystery, id m theft able is a prolific improviser who takes his insane mouth sounds way beyond mere vocal mimicry, combined with his amplified junkyard found-object playtime.
The first set, from March 2016, keeps listeners on their toes with high frequency alien transmissions, amplified scrapes and freely flowing streams of vocal pops, clicks and other mouth sounds.
Choppy vocals emerge as syllables or animalistic outbursts, including a few bloodcurdling yells, and occasionally, short cool-down periods are provided with space, seasoned with a few quiet crackles or pure tones.
These breaks are interrupted by relentless torrents, evoking a sort of manic cartoon violence that is simultaneously terrifying, disorienting and amusing.
On the second set, recorded in August 2017, Pensado’s incomprehensible jabber is distorted even further, among an impossibly complicated mess of squeaks, screeches, aural squiggles and static. These abnormal sparks of restless creativity fly through the ether like waves of arrows, and the album is animated and playful yet often overwhelming in a good way.
This writer is reminded of the Far Side comic showing a dying cowboy punctured with numerous arrows, telling his companion, “Yeah, Clem. I hurt. But y’know, it’s a good kind of hurt.”
Sudan Archives
Sudan Archives
(Stones Throw)
Your humble narrator recalls when two of his friends had their first child and gave him an unconventional name. “You know, with a name like that, he’s going to be a rock star someday,” said this writer to the parents.
Now take the case of Sudan Archives, who was raised in Ohio and originally named Brittney Parks. After seeing a showcase of Irish fiddlers in the fourth grade, she became interested in fiddle music and took up the instrument as a church musician.
When she was a teen, her mother recognized her personal style, which drew from traditional African sources, and renamed her “Sudan.” It may not come as a surprise that she later discovered African fiddle music from Sudan and West Africa; a transformation was marked with another redubbing, as she adopted the surname “Archives” to acknowledge her interest in ethnomusicology.
The self-titled 6-song EP from Archives, however, does not fit neatly into any fiddle category, being a studio creation that draws from eclectic sources, and it’s a striking debut that offers sonic chemistry with a mask of modern soul.
By calling it chemistry, this writer refers to how sounds combine and react, resulting in textures and rhythms; for example, Archives’ staccato vocal phrasing matches up with the percussion in a fascinating synthesis on the EP’s opening track. On “Time,” bowed violin notes pair up with plucked melodies, among its varied textures provided by a kalimba (thumb piano) and hyperactive drum machine.
Braying violin patterns infect “Come Meh Way,” which is riddled with claps and clicks and hand percussion; the song, in a revelatory moment, introduces a synth bass line overlaid on the beats, finally giving it a logical hip-hop gait. With a velvety elegance, Archives sings the odd yet comforting phrase “If you want some oatmeal, I got you” on “Oatmeal,” while studio-manipulated string samples quickly and repeatedly fade out, providing a beat. Often, Archives seems to start with interesting sounds and follows where they take her, perhaps the way a name can.