8.11.2005
mitchell akiyama, small explosions that are yours to keep
an album i'm enjoying lately is mitchell akiyama's small explosions that are yours to keep, which i found via the infinitely useful and illuminating aquarius records website.
the album's combination of avant garde electronics and humble acoustic flourishes makes it a welcome addition to a growing crop of warm electronica-- best represented by albums like matmos' the civil war or the books' the lemon of pink. but whereas those records were quirky and surprising, akiyama's is contemplative and even. for something knee deep in glitchy embellishments, small explosions is remarkably smooth and lyrical. akiyama avoids several "electronic" stereotypes-- no goofy samples, no abrasive cutting, no illusions that anyone would ever dance to it, and so forth. instead, it builds slowly, with a cinematic sort of grace. string, horn and laptop take turns in the spotlight, and there is no self-consciousness about the fusion. slowly--often very slowly-- the moods change alongside the instruments. the title track, with its precise orchestration and handsome composition, has a bit of the other-worldly charm that makes the music of moondog so strange and singular. it's not often that a recent album points in that sort of direction.
all in all, it's the perfect reading music for my nightly train ride-- drowning out annoying chatter, keeping me awake, and providing a soundtrack to my brain's activity. a more appropriate soundtrack for such a brain might be one accompanying a benny hill skit, or some such thing. but a boy can dream, can't he?
the album's combination of avant garde electronics and humble acoustic flourishes makes it a welcome addition to a growing crop of warm electronica-- best represented by albums like matmos' the civil war or the books' the lemon of pink. but whereas those records were quirky and surprising, akiyama's is contemplative and even. for something knee deep in glitchy embellishments, small explosions is remarkably smooth and lyrical. akiyama avoids several "electronic" stereotypes-- no goofy samples, no abrasive cutting, no illusions that anyone would ever dance to it, and so forth. instead, it builds slowly, with a cinematic sort of grace. string, horn and laptop take turns in the spotlight, and there is no self-consciousness about the fusion. slowly--often very slowly-- the moods change alongside the instruments. the title track, with its precise orchestration and handsome composition, has a bit of the other-worldly charm that makes the music of moondog so strange and singular. it's not often that a recent album points in that sort of direction.
all in all, it's the perfect reading music for my nightly train ride-- drowning out annoying chatter, keeping me awake, and providing a soundtrack to my brain's activity. a more appropriate soundtrack for such a brain might be one accompanying a benny hill skit, or some such thing. but a boy can dream, can't he?
