Review Summary: Moscow rooftops
There’s a sort of antithesis in techno music: a genre with its staple being a fearlessness of the impacts of time exhibiting very timeless qualities. Lumisokea’s style of industrial techno has been gravitating further away from its usual pedigree, even inching past the wonky throbs of 2014’s
Apophenia. Incorporating electroacoustic techniques inspired by Aresny Avraamov (an early 20th century composer notable for his symphonies consisting of sirens, cannons, and whathaveyou) and Vladimir Popov’s experimental instrument constructs,
Transmissions from Revarsavr sees duo Andrea Taeggi and Koenraad Ecker embrace formlessness and unpredictability. It’s a unique piece in that it pays homage to compositional visionaries not commonly associated with modern electronic music’s lineage, while further testing possibilities and bending norms.
Opener “Generation Z”, a possible reference to an art exhibition highlighting 1910-20 Russian composers, immediately confuses; the tribalistic rhythms run askew, while the detailed textures begging for examination are drowned in industrial clang and visceral beats. Many of the sounds come out of left field, with timbres of questionable origins. Knowing Taeggi and Ecker had access to Popov’s noise instruments eliminates some of the mystery, but still -
Revarsavr is full of ambiguity. Follow-up “Buk” is an aimless swaying of chunky bass work and chimes, where the textures pull focus but lack enough dimensional warping to
really captivate. “Whirling Dervishes” is yet another stylistic shift, with a deep, thudding bass line too jittery to groove to; but, as it progresses, the steady adrenaline build of wood blocks, drones, and a dash of acid techno influence leads to a weird assimilation of dance.
It isn’t until mid-album “Hyman Otor” that Lumisokea
really unhinge, with a relentless fury of beats beelining through a hurricane. The progression of
Revarsavr isn’t really logical, and doesn’t purport to be. The polyrhythmic “Uroboros” is as chaotic and dismantling as the cover art, whereas “Engrams” is a cautious, minimal composition. Compared tof the previous track where excess is vital, “Engrams” is oddly effective in that it does the exact opposite: its success is in how little it uses, with a soft, steady dub, occasional specks of sharp noise, and creeping ambience. Closer “Nanissáanah” recollects the worldly clamour of “Generation Z” with a dystopian tinge - a sort of controlled chaos levelling itself out until Lumisokea dim the lights. With the two bookends so thematically similar, and the songs in between so structurally different, the effect can be amnesic - but in a strangely effective sense, bringing a story full circle in a way that feels consolidated, but without divulging its many mysteries. In hindsight,
Transmissions from Revarsavr both defies time and reveres it.
