Paul Winstanley has leant his unique vision to such a wide range of projects lately. Traditional blues unit Rent Party and folk anarchists Fats White sit at the more conventionally “musical” end of the spectrum. Somewhere out the other side sits Sci Hi, his solo venture of some years standing into the pure sonography of “no-input” feedback. (Late 2004 saw a new development on a larger scale, with a highly diverting concert, under Mr W’s able baton, by the Sci Hi Arkestra.)
Where others have taken sounds generated by electronics with no external sonic sources to the far outposts of near-static minimalism, Paul’s closed loop of mixer, e.q. and effects processor is turned to an animated, dialogue-based approach - finely balanced just on the right side of fatally unstable. His tones chatter, twitter and hum in conversation with each other, suggesting native birds; mechanical insects; the slippery tones of slide whistles; the skittering of tiny cells under a microscope and the bemused murmurs of virtual swamp creatures.
His first release Nature Engine, with its regenerating cross talk was fairly unrelenting listening, as the sounds stayed within a fairly tightly defined spectrum. By contrast Who Trusts Crucible? Crucible Trusts No-one seems much more colourful. After the rushing whorl of the brief opening, things proceed with a strong sense of focus. Each cut seems to originate from a fairly defined texture or gesture. What I hear driving these pieces and making them such compelling listen is how Paul adjusts, realigns, plays with these ideas.
Crucible shows the startling range of Sci Hi sonics – the static shower of track 4 emerges from a sub-lunar hum (all Sci Hi CD’s come sans track titles). Track 7 takes a pinch of walking bass and exquisitely distorts it across a range of aural dimensions. When a more familiar idea comes along, like the slow squalls of track 11, the execution is spacious and considered.
Something That Was Never There features drier and less richly textured environments. There’s a more brittle and aggressive tone, frayed edges and disruptive feedback outbursts. Despite the hard core approach, a starker backdrop highlights the sense of a personal language. The abrupt eruptions and delicate crystal shapings assume the presence of very pure forms of gesture – signals from some imagined territory. The formulae (as I imagine there to be, I haven’t really checked in with Paul on that score) are ever so mutable: at times densely encoded, elsewhere wildly expressionistic. The range of variation is what makes for such a fresh listen.
Both these discs clock in at over the hour mark but I find I’m more engaged in half hour doses. There’s very little cruising space, so they are not causal listening prospects. Still, these are satisfying documents of unique, evolving music with my vote going for the less reduced soundscapes of Crucible.