Review Summary: Winding springs.
Peter Van Hoesen is a producer who believes in a physical relationship with sound. In an article for Resident Advisor, writer Mark Smith describes a tour of Handwerk Audio, a studio in Berlin which allows visitors to interact with “legendary synthesizers.” Van Hoesen is one of its founders. Suffice to say, the techno producer is obsessed with the intricacies of sound equipment, and this carries over to creating sounds that both respect the machine, yet facilitate the possibility of varying human responses. The same could be said of many producers, but Van Hoesen is particularly diligent in how his works rarely get too cluttered to the point of distracting from the innate quality of the synths, yet still offer escapism in their composition. His newest,
Oscar’s Blood, is more focused than albums like
To Alter A Vector, which may or may not be a compliment; it lacks the variety, and doesn’t have the introspection of a track like “Spectral Participant”, or the scraping grit of a song like “Attack on the Reality Principle”. It also doesn’t quite boast the same lively rhythmic drive as
Life Performance. All in all, it’s a deeper, darker experience.
Despite not being ostensibly diverse, there are plenty of interesting ideas upon further inspection. The self-titled opener uses subtle yet effective crescendos, whereas “Unit Prep”’s buildup is more gradual and painstaking. The former track creates a choppy, almost doppler-like effect amidst car revving, while the latter features staccato, chippy sound effects and throbbing bass. “Circumference 12” has a constant sensation of nearly bubbling over, with a steadily-climbing temperature pushing it to the brink. We get images of strobe lights, soundboards, beaker, and barometers; contrary to the opener, where we see checkered flags, neon lights, helicopter, and industrialization. Closer “Theoretical Terminal”, rhythmically speaking, sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s much more subdued and contemplative, as though rising from the rubble, senses tingling. It gasps and sighs, tickles and pulses, though the bass is more understated here. Gradually, the track seems to build itself in a sort of mechanized flowering - it blooms, but with gears and steam. It’s a bit tricky to guess how this might all tie together conceptually, but it seems to represent the night’s resilience and vitality. And, if ‘the night’ can be considered a merging of the sensibilities of man and machine, then it makes sense that Van Hoesen is so concerned with understanding the synthesis between human physicality and the lifeblood of his equipment. They sustain each other.
