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| Cryptic Exaltations |
My introduction to Nick Neuburg as a percussionist came about in 2021 at the notorious outdoor debut performance of the short-lived (but much-needed) quintet Strictly Missionary. Neuburg was seated on the ground and essentially invisible in the dark, behind the rest of the band. I couldn’t see him from where I was but I could certainly tell something ridiculous was going on back there - an added layer of absurd acoustic noise that helped give this music its feral edge. To me, listening to Neuburg’s new solo improv album Cryptic Exaltations is a similar experience - these exaltations (in whichever sense of that word you want) are indeed cryptic. Without a visual element, the instrumentation is left to the listener’s imagination. Having witnessed Neuburg in action in more visible settings, I know there are knives, bowls, bows, pipes, and styrofoam involved as well as at least some parts of a more conventional drum set, but the “what” and the “how” of many sounds are impossible to place.
The ten tracks are little textural vignettes, more scenes than stories - perhaps scenes from alternate universes, or at least far-away worlds. The opening track, “Unbroken Sentence”, begins with a sonorous scraping across a rough terrain of gongings and buzzes, which eventually rises into a windy jangle. Like many others, this one feels simultaneously ritualistic and spasmodic. This longest track is followed by the shortest (but longest-titled), the one-and-a-half-minute “Picking it up and then picking it up again” - a dark swamp of thumps and fricative squeaks. “Breath Fraction” begins in a similarly low space full of bowing and rubbing, interspersed with sudden shudders and chitters. “Seeing +” seems to involve some sort of brush or comb come to life, snarling and rattling its teeth. In “Without Culture” we enter a land of pots and pans, belling and boinging to each other. “I am Flickering” brings back a bowed texture, this one like a brutal fiddle conversing with otherworldly birds. “Deleted on Contact” is similar but scraped and scrubbed instead of bowed. There is a linguistic element in the way Neuburg bows and rubs his instruments, but not in the realm of human language - perhaps the animal voices of a universe where there are no sentient species, or at least where the highest consciousness would be unrecognizable in our world. The frenetic, gabbling “Touch Fraction” is a striking example of this, as is the calmer “No zone a zone”. The last track, “Infinity Dance”, has a few more recognizable drum and cymbal sounds but not without some unique rattling and chattering.
I must confess I don’t listen to a lot of recorded solo noise improv like this - I generally prefer to experience this music live where I can see it being made. Listening to Cryptic Exaltations, however, might change that. Instead of taking something away from the music, a purely audio setting for this kind of improvising adds a new layer of mystery. It’s fun to fill in what could be happening in these pieces in the absence of visuals, and I look forward to doing so for other albums on the 1039 label - most of which so far have also been solo improvisations. There’s certainly something to be gained in making your exaltations cryptic.
The ten tracks are little textural vignettes, more scenes than stories - perhaps scenes from alternate universes, or at least far-away worlds. The opening track, “Unbroken Sentence”, begins with a sonorous scraping across a rough terrain of gongings and buzzes, which eventually rises into a windy jangle. Like many others, this one feels simultaneously ritualistic and spasmodic. This longest track is followed by the shortest (but longest-titled), the one-and-a-half-minute “Picking it up and then picking it up again” - a dark swamp of thumps and fricative squeaks. “Breath Fraction” begins in a similarly low space full of bowing and rubbing, interspersed with sudden shudders and chitters. “Seeing +” seems to involve some sort of brush or comb come to life, snarling and rattling its teeth. In “Without Culture” we enter a land of pots and pans, belling and boinging to each other. “I am Flickering” brings back a bowed texture, this one like a brutal fiddle conversing with otherworldly birds. “Deleted on Contact” is similar but scraped and scrubbed instead of bowed. There is a linguistic element in the way Neuburg bows and rubs his instruments, but not in the realm of human language - perhaps the animal voices of a universe where there are no sentient species, or at least where the highest consciousness would be unrecognizable in our world. The frenetic, gabbling “Touch Fraction” is a striking example of this, as is the calmer “No zone a zone”. The last track, “Infinity Dance”, has a few more recognizable drum and cymbal sounds but not without some unique rattling and chattering.
I must confess I don’t listen to a lot of recorded solo noise improv like this - I generally prefer to experience this music live where I can see it being made. Listening to Cryptic Exaltations, however, might change that. Instead of taking something away from the music, a purely audio setting for this kind of improvising adds a new layer of mystery. It’s fun to fill in what could be happening in these pieces in the absence of visuals, and I look forward to doing so for other albums on the 1039 label - most of which so far have also been solo improvisations. There’s certainly something to be gained in making your exaltations cryptic.
