A day later than I usually post these, but yesterday was sort of bleh. Another from that now-defunct site formerly known as Epinions. From my New Age days.
Amoeba is a collaboration between Robert Rich and Rick Davies. Rich considers it his “rock band,” by all accounts. Although I’ve been interested in Rich’s music for a number of years, Watchful is my first exposure to their combined talents. This is also the first CD I’ve reviewed that I simply cannot interpret as one extended work: the selections are, indubitably, separate songs.
Many of the concerns I recognize from Rich’s solo work are apparent in Watchful. Perhaps the best summation is that the album is somewhere between “easy listening” and “hard-core esoteric.” Robert Rich began his musical career early, building his own synthesizers by the time he was thirteen, and producing “sleep concerts” (for which the audience brought sleeping bags and prepared to spend the night) in Golden Gate Park while he was a psychology student at Stanford. His music then was based heavily on psychoacoustics and made use of natural body cycles (including the 24-hour diurnal cycle to which we are all subject). He also investigated drones (and put out an album titled Drones and Trances) and gradually, by the time of Rainforest, moved into more recognizable sound patterns, many of which inhabit Watchful, which was released in 1997. Rick Davies is a guitarist, bassist, and composer who was a founding member of Psycho Hamster, described as a “psychedelic brain-damage band,” and Killer Donuts. He has worked with Rich sporadically since 1979.
The songs have an ethereal quality, as much due to Rich’s vocals as to the sometimes insubstantial quality of the instruments. His voice, a light, throaty tenor, is ideal for this music: provided with a slight resonance, it works not so much to provide information as to reinforce the mood and stroke our curiosity – it really doesn’t matter that most of the time, you can’t understand the words. Pauses are as important as sounds, and quite often there are elements that are felt rather than actually heard. The shape of each song, the dialogues between elements, the barely heard passages that somehow grab our attention and compel listening, are what finally engage the listener. This is music that offers nods in many directions, and becomes quite absorbing in its own right as an organic synthesis of Rich’s many explorations.
“Inside” begins with a strong “world beat” rhythm, a syncopated, tropical-sounding substrate that provides a solid base for the simple but elegant guitars and Rich’s habitually murky vocals. “Skin” provides a strong contrast, with a long, spare cello line that displays a great deal of subtlety. “Origami” opens with a somewhat Pinteresque guitar solo (in which the pauses are at least as important as the notes) and a cryptic woodwind that could be a flute or oboe making deft appearances. The whole piece is rather elliptical and quite fascinating. “Footless” is the first piece on the album for which I immediately thought “song.” It delivers some superb cello work by Hans Christian, as well as subtle, understated drums from Don Swanson, and Rich’s somewhat opaque vocals (read “unintelligible,” which is not to be taken as a criticism). “Ignoring Gravity” is a relaxed, low-key piece featuring intricate rhythms and the introduction of sounds (one is almost impelled to identify them as “nature sounds” as in much New Age music, but they are not) as accents that work to define what might otherwise be a completely formless song. “Water Vapor” is indeed quite vaporous and quite brief.
“Desolation” offers a new pattern, opening with a sequence that perhaps offers a nod to Edgar Varèse, perhaps to the soundtrack from Forbidden Planet, real science-fiction music with the requisite blurps and beeps that segues into an acoustic guitar solo that is again spare and quite evocative. “Big Clouds” makes use of some of Rich’s lessons from “Drones” as an almost subliminal continuo to a synthesized almost-melody. “Saragossa” breaks that mood with a heavily syncopated percussion overlaid with a long continuo line that offers spaces for a lively little flute to wander through. The key word for “Any Other Sky” is mellow, in spite of the energetic rhythms, a function of Rich’s understated vocals. “Watchful Eyes” once again uses a continuo that is more inferred than heard under a dialogue between guitar and piano that recalls in pacing and shape some of Harold Budd’s more exciting improvisations.
I like Robert Rich’s music. I have always like Robert Rich’s music, since I first ran across him in a collaboration with Steve Roach. He has investigated many ideas and incorporated many influences in an intelligent and intellectually challenging synthesis that is at the same time very seductive and rewarding. Part of the reward is that this is music for active listening or for just zoning out – either way, you get something out of it.
(Lektronic Soundscapes, 1997)
Many of the concerns I recognize from Rich’s solo work are apparent in Watchful. Perhaps the best summation is that the album is somewhere between “easy listening” and “hard-core esoteric.” Robert Rich began his musical career early, building his own synthesizers by the time he was thirteen, and producing “sleep concerts” (for which the audience brought sleeping bags and prepared to spend the night) in Golden Gate Park while he was a psychology student at Stanford. His music then was based heavily on psychoacoustics and made use of natural body cycles (including the 24-hour diurnal cycle to which we are all subject). He also investigated drones (and put out an album titled Drones and Trances) and gradually, by the time of Rainforest, moved into more recognizable sound patterns, many of which inhabit Watchful, which was released in 1997. Rick Davies is a guitarist, bassist, and composer who was a founding member of Psycho Hamster, described as a “psychedelic brain-damage band,” and Killer Donuts. He has worked with Rich sporadically since 1979.
The songs have an ethereal quality, as much due to Rich’s vocals as to the sometimes insubstantial quality of the instruments. His voice, a light, throaty tenor, is ideal for this music: provided with a slight resonance, it works not so much to provide information as to reinforce the mood and stroke our curiosity – it really doesn’t matter that most of the time, you can’t understand the words. Pauses are as important as sounds, and quite often there are elements that are felt rather than actually heard. The shape of each song, the dialogues between elements, the barely heard passages that somehow grab our attention and compel listening, are what finally engage the listener. This is music that offers nods in many directions, and becomes quite absorbing in its own right as an organic synthesis of Rich’s many explorations.
“Inside” begins with a strong “world beat” rhythm, a syncopated, tropical-sounding substrate that provides a solid base for the simple but elegant guitars and Rich’s habitually murky vocals. “Skin” provides a strong contrast, with a long, spare cello line that displays a great deal of subtlety. “Origami” opens with a somewhat Pinteresque guitar solo (in which the pauses are at least as important as the notes) and a cryptic woodwind that could be a flute or oboe making deft appearances. The whole piece is rather elliptical and quite fascinating. “Footless” is the first piece on the album for which I immediately thought “song.” It delivers some superb cello work by Hans Christian, as well as subtle, understated drums from Don Swanson, and Rich’s somewhat opaque vocals (read “unintelligible,” which is not to be taken as a criticism). “Ignoring Gravity” is a relaxed, low-key piece featuring intricate rhythms and the introduction of sounds (one is almost impelled to identify them as “nature sounds” as in much New Age music, but they are not) as accents that work to define what might otherwise be a completely formless song. “Water Vapor” is indeed quite vaporous and quite brief.
“Desolation” offers a new pattern, opening with a sequence that perhaps offers a nod to Edgar Varèse, perhaps to the soundtrack from Forbidden Planet, real science-fiction music with the requisite blurps and beeps that segues into an acoustic guitar solo that is again spare and quite evocative. “Big Clouds” makes use of some of Rich’s lessons from “Drones” as an almost subliminal continuo to a synthesized almost-melody. “Saragossa” breaks that mood with a heavily syncopated percussion overlaid with a long continuo line that offers spaces for a lively little flute to wander through. The key word for “Any Other Sky” is mellow, in spite of the energetic rhythms, a function of Rich’s understated vocals. “Watchful Eyes” once again uses a continuo that is more inferred than heard under a dialogue between guitar and piano that recalls in pacing and shape some of Harold Budd’s more exciting improvisations.
I like Robert Rich’s music. I have always like Robert Rich’s music, since I first ran across him in a collaboration with Steve Roach. He has investigated many ideas and incorporated many influences in an intelligent and intellectually challenging synthesis that is at the same time very seductive and rewarding. Part of the reward is that this is music for active listening or for just zoning out – either way, you get something out of it.
(Lektronic Soundscapes, 1997)
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