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Almost anybody could tell you that there are three
basic aggregates of material in the physical world: liquid, gas and solid
material. Only a few people can tell you that there are some more, like
solid material being divided in crystalic and anamorphous materials.
Philosophically inclined people will start to ramble about the fascination
that the transcending of material from one status to another has to them and
the grey areas where parts of the material are here and other parts are
there and about the way these changes take place. (Many philosophers,
especially of the modern kind, have used these as metaphors, usually not in
physical correct terms, but anyway.) Never up to now have I read about
material that is in two different aggregates at the same time. And I don’t
mean partly frozen and partly liquid as in currently melting. I mean
ephemeral like a gas and at the same time solid like the ground I stand on.
And I mean the music Ruytger Zuydervelt aka Machinefabriek has produced for
this album. And the main question is: has chaos theory ever sounded so fine?
“Dauw” is one of the rare full length releases of
Machinefabriek amidst an uncountable mass of small and smaller format
releases, remixes and collaborations. Around only since 2004 the output has
grown out of bounds quickly, though the music is rooted in its core vision
all times. Based on solid sounds from all sorts of string instruments and
percussions, with the help of intricate noises both from analogue as well as
electronic sources, he builds long winding, slowly evolving, fascinating
tracks that evolve with time. Sometimes they are drones resting the
listener’s pulse and lowering vital activity of the body to a mere
breathing-status. At other times they show percussive randomness and eerie
sounds like mid eighties Horror movie soundtracks, only sparser, less
economic and more focused on emotional effect. Zuydervelt does not stay away
from adding glitches and error noises (“Engineer”) if he want so, only
to add the unaltered and undistorted picking of a guitar in the next moment
as on the title track “Dauw” which ends on an angelic choir singing
simple lines of notes in the background. In contrast “singel” starts
with nothing but soft, lowdown static noise and takes almost two minutes
before the first set of other sounds – mongolic prayer bowls – set in.
(This last track, “singel”, takes up almost half of the length of the
whole album. The other four tracks are somewhere between three and seven
minutes.)
Often have I wondered what the fascination of music like this is to me.
Music that constantly wanders at the fringes of the definition of what music
actually is, that makes the meaning of what is noise and what is harmony
slowly shift or disappear (only to come up at other places). The slowly
drifting dynamic of these tracks has the same endless quality that watching
the ocean ebb and flow has, or watching a loved one sleep. Despite all the
troubles and distractions that lurk at the bottom of these images (or just
right below the surface), the evil undertow of the shoreline and of
relationships with other people, the most basic, bottom line pulse remains
the same throughout all of creation. So, a divine or metaphysical
explanation for the phenomena that arise at the grey areas of clear physical
definition? Maybe yes. The transcendental atmosphere created by “Dauw”
certainly makes hard facts dissolve and turns emotional aspects into static
truths. And if one truth remains then it may be that falling asleep to
“Dauw” will give you a headfull of interesting ideas to ponder.
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