CEE Arktika

 Les Jesu/Greymachine Justin K Broadrick (Godflesh, Techno Animal et un millier d’auutres projets plus ou moins essentiels) et Diarmuid Dalton (Iroha) brisent la glace au sens propre comme au figuré sur ce troisième opus de Council Estate Electronics : en infusant un peu de lyrisme, de respiration et de luxuriance organique dans leur dark ambient post-industriel aux pulsations jusqu’ici étouffantes et urbaines, mais également en s’inspirant pour le label concept Glacial Movements du navire Arktika, brise-glace nucléaire soviétique rougeoyant qui fut le premier navire à atteindre le Pôle Nord il y a presque exactement 40 ans, et dont une nouvelle incarnation, relookée bleu marine cette fois, vient d’être inaugurée en juin dernier. Marqué à égale mesure par la tension pelée des BOs de John Carpenter et la transe menaçante et bruitiste des pionniers indus Throbbing Gristle comme par les paysages synthétiques de Cluster ou Tangerine Dream et l’esthétique grisâtre et déshumanisée des immeubles de logements sociaux de leur Birmingham natale, le génial Kitsland s’était imposé en 2009 comme l’un des albums les plus minimalistes et non moins malaisants de la disco du stakhanoviste britannique et du fidèle bassiste et bidouilleur régulièrement présent au côté de l’ex Napalm Death depuis le deuxième album de Final il y a 20 ans déjà. Une économie de moyens qui perdurait en 2012 sur un ténébreux Longmeadow plus drone et texturé et qui ne pouvait bien évidemment que seoir à l’isolationnisme engourdi par la glace du label transalpin d’Alessandro Tedeschi... mais pas de la façon dont on l’imaginait. Ainsi, les dix minutes de transe contemplative d’un Urals sonnant comme si Steve Roach s’essayait à la dub techno ou la brume dub assourdie du 60 Megawatts final ouvrent ici la musique du duo aux grands espaces réverbérés et au silence ouaté que l’Arktika, premier du nom, fend sur la pochette de l’album. L’abstraction ultra minimaliste et stylisée de cette dernière renvoie d’ailleurs à la techno nettement plus géométrique de Type LK-60YA dont les échos de synthés oniriques flirtent autant avec les travaux de Stefan Betke qu’avec l’hédonisme des raves, et si l’angoisse persiste sur un 567 Foot 33,500 Ton vrillé de grésillements hostiles sur un entrelacs de beats sourds et autres sound effects hantés puis sur un Rosatom presque tribal à la production tout aussi oppressante et saturée, le scintillant 50 Let Pobody aux élans conquérants finit de confirmer qu’on a plus affaire au même groupe qu’avant. Car aussi surprenant que cela puisse paraître de la part de ses deux auteurs rompus aux tourments musicaux les plus incompromis, chez Council Estate Electronics on rêve désormais à ciel ouvert et le regard perdu sur des kilomètres de banquise craquelante, en quête d’horizons mentaux jamais atteints auparavant : ceux d’une sérénité que Justin Broadrick avait fini par effleurer, après un quart de siècle d’une œuvre torturée, avec l’électronica shoegazeuse de son projet solo Pale Sketcher et que le superbe Liquified Natural Gas embrasse enfin ici dans une plénitude impressionniste digne des joyaux dubtronica/ambient du sus-nommé Betke aka Pole.INDIE ROCK MAG

Justin K Broadrick, al que conocerás por variados y destacados proyectos como Godflesh, Jesu, JK Flesh, Techno Animal o Pale Sketcher, se une de nuevo con Diarmuid Dalton para publicar nuevo trabajo bajo el concepto Council Estate Electronics. Con esta nueva compilación de temas, de título Arktika, rinden tributo a algunos de los maestros del sinte que tanto les influenciaron en su juventud como Tangerine Dream, Throbbing Gristle, Kraftwerk o Cluster. El álbum sale a la venta a través del sello italiano especializado en ambient Glacial Movements, fundado por Alessandro Tedeschi (y en el que ha llegado a publicar nuestro maestro de las grabaciones de campo, Francisco López), que lo incluirá como parte de su serie Iceberg el próximo 31 de octubre.CLUBBING SPAIN

Council Estate Electronics is one of the many projects of the great Justin K Broadrick, along with fellow Jesu member Diarmuid Dalton. The first two albums are murky electronic music of a somewhat krautrock flavour, but on this new one for usually quite ambient label Glacial Movements, they've moved into more of an industrial techno realm – or perhaps Justin's recent JK Flesh is really industrial and this waters it down with a bit of a Basic Channel stype minimal techno! This album is very good. Of course.UTILITY FOG

How strange, then, that the very next recording to make it onto the hard drive was the new offering from Council Estate Electronics, a project, it transpires, put together by Justin K Broadrick of Techno Animal, Napalm Death, Godflesh and others, together with co-conspirator Diarmuid Dalton. Their ‘Arktika’ album employs the same approach to expansive, evocative soundscapes but set here to a subtle but sturdy throbbing techno pulse and plenty of booming sub-bass pressure. Hear the highlights like ’50- Does Pobody’ and ‘Liquified Natural Gas’.godisinthetvzine

Ever since his teenage years when he sailed from the power electronics of his first solo project (Final) and through the birth of grindcore as part of Napalm Death, Justin Broadrick has navigated genres as if on a conquest to cross the ocean of sound. In each harbour he drops anchor the waters are left that bit more polluted as deposits of Birmingham-born industrial effluence are left in his wake. With every contaminated style comes its own moniker - Godflesh for Broadrick's take on US noise rock, Techno Animal for experiments in electronica and hip-hop with Kevin Martin, or Jesu to signpost alt-rock songs in a My Bloody Valentine mode to name but a few. Broadrick's latest nom de plume, Council Estate Electronics, is a collaboration with Jesu's bassist Diarmuid Dalton and their third album, Arktika, forms the second instalment in the Italian label Glacial Movements' 'Iceberg Series'. It follows Netherworld's Zastrugi, whose deep frozen techno serves the series' analogy well. But, while the weight and scale of the bass frequencies throughout Arktika certainly suit the class of Russian icebreaker it takes its name from, the environment Broadrick and Diarmuid's music evokes is far from the icy seas off Siberia, and instead remain much closer to the regions bestowed on their previous instalments. Council Estate Electronics initially set about jamming with "synths, tapes and FX" to collide kosmische and industrial influences. Their debut, 2009's Kitsland, its name taken from a road in the Shard End area of East Birmingham where they both lived and met in 1984, provides a moody soundtrack to the monolithic tower block of its cover. It was followed up in 2012 by longmeadow, named after another locality from their formative stomping grounds, its two long-form pieces invoking the grimy synthwork of Throbbing Gristle, who, themselves, sounded like they were drawing upon Kluster's bleaker experiments in Berlin of the late sixties, early seventies. But, as if to confound expectations, here the duo drops the industrial malevolence that haunted the previous two albums and instead blend heady synth sunrises with deep bass manoeuvres over dub riddims. The heat it exudes and the urban lifestyle it suggests couldn't be further from the icy expanse of the Arctic Ocean. Indeed, throughout Arktika's eight tracks it is as if a colossal stylus has descended to earth and landed in Birmingham, the planet’s rotation enabling it to pick up the street-level vibrations as it travels through the groove formed by the roads that connect the city's condensed, built up residential areas and rows of dilapidated factories. Like many of Broadrick's albums, the first track is the most definitive. 'Urals' lays down a path of evenly spaced kick drums bound tightly to a single-note bassline, never straying from the sequencer’s grid. But the sinuous dance of several synths and delicious dub-inflected dashes of hi-hat and snare breathe life into this straightest of metres. From here on, while the mood can certainly get more menacing on tracks like ‘567 foot 33,500 ton’ and ‘Rosatom’ with stealthy, swooping tones invading the steady sub-bass throb, Broadrick and Dalton largely stick to the same plan. Similar to Basic Channel’s minimal productions of the mid-Nineties that got bracketed as dub techno, it is a simple formula that Arktika does nothing to hide, but it doesn’t need to. While all this genrefication may seem contrived on paper, in the experienced hands of Broadrick and Dalton Arktika’s tracks are forged and laid with maximum impact: each individual event feels so well-crafted (in the way the best Boards Of Canada tracks manage to pull off), that it simply seduces you to follow in, and not fight, its natty urban stroll.THE QUIETUS

I wonder how many Godflesh or Jesu fans are aware of the present or past existence of about 78 other bands, projects and one-time adventures Justin Broadrick has been involved in. No, I didn’t count them, it was a blind shot. I know Techno Animal and JK Flesh, I’ve heard about several others, but I suppose that a majority of them is still terra incognita to me. Like this one, Council Estate Electronics, a completely new name to me, yet it seems that he – along with Dermot Dalton, also known from Jesu – has already released two albums under that moniker, both through his own Avalanche Records. “Arktika” is the third Council Estate Electronics baby, this time recorded for Glacial Movements. You know Glacial Movements, right? You know that Alessandro Tedeschi’s purpose is to freeze your speakers, to make your room so cold that icicles start hanging from your ceiling and your radiator refuses to function anymore. Basically “glacial” electronic music bifurcates in two directions: deep, often isolationist ambient and minimal dub/techno. Council Estate Electronics chooses the latter one, although not in a very straightforward manner, as these eight tracks of analogue rhythms, synth loops and oldschool atmosphere are also a certain blink towards the electronic classics and pioneers, more in terms of their vintage feel and the sound itself rather than the concrete names. The album is dedicated to the new generation Russian icebreaking ship (this one: https://engineeringrussia.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/129.jpg, impressive, isn’t it?). I’m not sure if the music reverberates it’s power and majesty as in fact it’s dynamism is rather low-key. It’s more like tiny components working for the greater good rather than a huge sea monster crushing the ice as if it was a toy. But it’s swirling, dancing, is very fresh and vivid even though built of old components. Sometimes the music becomes a bit noisier, like “50 Let Pobody”, but it’s not like Justin recalls the times of glory of his most famous project. The track has some industrial dirt, but at the same time it sparkles with serenity. On the other hand “Liquified Natural Gas” reminds me quite a lot of Boards Of Canada. Which I suppose is a good thing. And believe me, it is cold, but it’s not an album that glorifies the powers of Nature, but rather explains how people deal with it, using modern technology not to destroy (except for those poor icebergs), but to cooperate and make things easier. “Arktika” may not be part of the Broadrick canon, but nevertheless, it’s an enjoyable album all the way round.Santasangre Magazine

L’impervia via all’isolazionismo ambientale “glaciale” del duo di Justin K Broadrick e Dermot Dalton (Jesu) trova manifestazione decisamente particolare nel suo corrispettivo concettuale, appunto consistente nel percorso di navigazione tra i mari ghiacciati a nord della Russia destinato a essere aperto da rompighiaccio a propulsione nucleare. Tale è, appunto, “Arktika”, suggestione meccanica piuttosto che semplicemente contemplativa sottostante al nuovo lavoro licenziato dai due artisti inglesi sotto l’alias Council Estate Electronics. L’ora circa di durata del disco declina tale suggestione in maniera necessariamente ben distante da scenari di immota quieta ambientale, presentando invece una complessa sequenza di pulsazioni dall’incedere grave (“Urals”) e crepitanti frammenti di rumore glaciale (“567 foot 33,500 ton”, “Rosatom”), che incarnano tanto i movimenti della macchina quanto il loro impatto sulla superficie ghiacciata. Nell’approccio (post-)industriale del duo non mancano comunque, in particolare nella seconda parte del lavoro, impressioni sonore più vaporose e astratte, condensate nelle irregolari frequenze cosmiche di “Polar Star” e nei vapori sulfurei, tempestati da risonanze ruvide, di “Liquified Natural Gas”. Laddove infine tecnica e paesaggio si incontrano, miscelandosi tra loro, resta il puro suono dell’elettricità (“60 megawatts”), che chiude “Arktika” all’insegna di oscillazioni sintetiche in purezza, suggellando con sinestetica chiarezza la composizione sostanziale, sotto un unico sguardo, dell’antinomia tra natura e tecnologia.MUSIC WON'T SAVE YOU

According to the liner notes, COUNCIL ESTATE ELECTRONICS is the attempt of Justin K Broadrick and Diarmuid Dalton to pay a tribute to the music of their youth which is basically dub and krautrock. Obviously, this project is musically close of the impressive releases as Techno Animal (with Kevin Martin) but without the rhythmic emphasis and with a sharper sense of the underlying soundscape. "Urals" opens this release exposing the musical structure which ties all the tracks: a dub rhythmic cage containing samples and soundscape so it's something as listenable as danceable and features even some abrasive moments. "567 foot 33,500 ton" is implacable in his hammering development while developing the track at the dynamic level. "Type LK-60YA" is based on somehow nostalgic synth line while "Rosatom" returns to the industrial framework based around a mechanical beat and a fistful of loops while "50 Let Pobody" seems closer to dub as the noiser elements aren't present and "Polar Star" exposes sonic nuances typical of more avant-garde field. "Liquified natural gas" floats without the rhythmic cage tying all the sounds and "60 megawatts" closes this release moving even further the most abstract elements of the dub canon. As usual, while apparently there's all the canonical elements of Broadrick's music, something new, at least a detail, emerges and gives a sense of not been the routine of someone without anything to prove. Another clue that he's perhaps one of the most underrated artist alive. Recommended.CHAIN DLK

Jesu masterminds Justin Broadrick and Diarmuid Dalton originally kicked off their Council Estate Electronics partnership in 2009 with the intention of paying tribute to the synthesiser music of their youth, the plan being to create music along the lines of Tangerine Dream, Jarre and Cluster. Once the duo started work though, they found other unplanned influences seeping in, particularly early seventies dub like King Tubby and Scientist, and dub techno sounds in the vein of Basic Channel, Chain Reaction and Maurizio. While Council Estate Electronics’ preceding 2012 album ‘Longmeadow’ saw the duo crafting menacing, industrial-edged landscapes over two expansive side-long tracks, this latest third album on Italian label Glacial Movements ‘Arktika’ sees them trading more aggressive sounds for a wander out into minimalist and stripped-down dub techno. The second release in Glacial Movements’ ice-themed ‘Iceberg’ series, the eight tracks that comprise ‘Arktika’ were inspired by the newly built Russian icebreaker of the same name, a 60 megawatt beast that promises to crunch through ice more than ten feet deep and lead convoys along routes that would otherwise be impassable. Given the muscular subject matter, you’d be forgiven for expecting this album to be a lesson in brute force, rather than the often stripped down and skeletal dub landscapes being explored here. The ten minute long ‘Urals’ opens this album with its most expansive track, as slow analogue synth swells roll and merge against a slow backing of dubbed-out percussive tones, the cold electronics relentlessly circling before a 4/4 kickdrum pulse locks in, sending things gliding off through shimmering layers of trailing synths and reverbed-out harmonics that vividly call to mind icy waters sliding against the bow of some vast vessel. If there’s a tangible sense of (albeit ghostly) dubby swagger to be found amidst the frigid textures, it’s in the shuffling offbeat hi-hats, which add a sense of warmth and looseness reminiscent of Rhythm & Sound. By contrast, ‘567 Foot 33,500 Ton’ gets far nastier as a distorted synth pulse buzzes relentlessly like a swarm of wasps above an eerie backdrop of thudding muted kickdrums and dark ambience, the monotonous ominous pulse suggesting the vast powerplant providing the force to smash the ice, in what’s easily the most aggressive track here. ’50 Let Pobody’ meanwhile sits right at the opposite end of the spectrum as refracted melodic synth tones add elements of brighter colour to an undulating backbone of punching kickdrums and bendy sub-bass drops, the hypnotic sense of swing that’s generated adding a loose, wandering undertone to the serenely glowing electronics. If the aforementioned track envelopes you in exactly the sort of warm bliss that you wouldn’t associate with Justin Broadrick, eerie closing track ’60 Megawatts’ brings the cold isolationist atmospheres back to the forefront, as ghostly, arkestra-esque delayed out keys echo out over a deserted post-landscape of humming drones and distantly pulsing slow rhythms, in what’s easily the most austere take on dubby techno experimentation that I’ve heard in a while. While to my ears it doesn’t immediately conjure up visions of the hulking icebreaker of the title, ‘Arktika’ contains more than its share of intriguing ghosts flitting around the superstructure.CYCLIC DEFROST

The slow and steady beats of Council Estate Electronics hide a harder edge. ‘Urals’ may have a reassuring tone to begin with, but it presents a cloudy picture, which becomes rather dark and unsettling in the strangely titled ‘567 foot 33,500 ton’ – which is revealed to be the vital statistics of the Russian icebreaker Arktika, on which the album is based. Everything falls into place then, as this collaborative album from Justin K Broadrick and Diarmuid Dalton use their analog synths and electronics to create the slow moving music of power that would be most apt as a soundtrack for such a vessel. And yet, despite the power, a calming sense of ambience remains.DMC WORLD MAGAZINE

Brace yourself, the winter music is coming. As temperatures drop, the need for the sound of coalescing ice flows and slow moving heavy equipment increases. I found these two Brit synthesizer gurus (Justin K. Broadrick and Diarmuid Dalton) in my mail box, and they are ready to move out, set up orange cones, and get a job done. They start with “Urals,” here an industrial beat track overlaying some heavy, sonorous mountains; sheathed in cold, surrounded by ice, and deep in old Soviet territory. Next they introduce us to a very large ore crier called “567 Foot 33,500 Ton”, the beat goes on and now the sounds of underwater propeller screws from the Red October joins droning noises as metal sheets slowly contract under cold water pressure. The intensity increases with “Type LK-60YA”, now screw pitches are straining, and just below the water line is a reactor with the goal of driving this load all the way around the Northwest Passage. The northern ice-breaking glories of the Old Empire infuse this album. Not much differentiates the tracks, but all pay homage to one of the things the Old Empire did best: they broke ice, and moved stuff through. Perhaps they won’t listen to this particular album but those frozen soviet sailors have heard theses sounds. It may be getting cold where you live, but not as cold as these cool tracks.INK19

Justin Broadrick et Diarmuid Dalton ont tous deux passé leur jeunesse dans les HLM (Council Estate) de Birmingham. C’est là qu’ils se sont rencontrés, par l’intermédiaire de Christian (Benny) Green et c’est là qu’ils ont commencé, tous, à consacrer leur vie à la musique. Depuis plus de trente ans, Broadrick et Dalton collaborent plus ou moins régulièrement, dans Jesu ou Final ou Greymachine principalement. Ils ont aussi fondé Council Estate Electronics et l’on devine, à la simple lecture de ce nom, qu’il est affaire d’un passé commun. Mais il ne s’agit pas d’explorer le punk, la new wave, la musique industrielle et metal comme ils le font ailleurs, non, le projet vise à « rendre hommage à la musique synthétique qui les a influencés dans leur jeunesse : Tangerine Dream, Throbbing Gristle, Kraftwerk, Cluster (Moebius et Roedelius), etc. et de l’adapter à l’imagerie et à la géographie des HLM de Birmingham où ils ont tous deux grandi ». S’il s’agit de la première sortie physique du duo sous ce nom, après deux albums au format digital, c’est surtout la continuité d’une démarche amorcée dès le morceau Voidbeat 1 (Final vs. Solaris) qu’ils donnèrent au CD accompagnant le Fear Drop 3, il y a de cela vingt ans. On trouvera, au gré de la discographie de Justin Broadrick, d’autres incursions dans l’électro minimale, comme dans The Sidewinder ou Zonal, deux projets réalisés en compagnie de Kevin Martin. Council Estate Electronics pratique donc une musique minimale, électronique et doucement évolutive. Il conviendra d’apprécier cette dernière qualité à l’aune de la température spectaculairement basse qui guide ces compositions : invité par le label Glacial Movements, spécialisé dans l’ « arctic ambient », le duo a appuyé sa naturelle tendance à l’entropie musicale. Les beats, réguliers et secs, se laissent volontiers submerger par les nappes de brume, maintenant l’assise cardiaque dont l’opiniâtre explorateur économe de ses réserves a besoin pour avancer dans la couche de neige craquante. Tels les artifices lumineux que le Nord ménage – parhélie, aurore boréale, fata morgana… –, les mirages sonores sillonnent cette musique austère mais peuplée. Des échos se tissent dans la nappe, des réverbérations dub, des ondulations orangées, un fredonnement sinusoïdal au fin fond du panorama. On songe parfois aux frères Voigt (Gas et Sturm), à Bvdub, Pole, Moritz von Oswald, Burnt Friedman, Vladislav Delay… Et avec eux tous, Council Estate Electronics partage une élégance glacée, où paradoxalement le chrome devient ductile. Un sang nouveau coule dans une telle musique, un sang qui n’a plus désespérément besoin de 37°c. Jusqu’où la rêverie peut-elle apparier la grisaille de Birmingham à la blancheur des étendues arctiques ? Ce serait aux deux artistes de répondre, par prérogative. Mais l’on peut acquiescer à la possibilité d’une pareille liaison, et c’est par le timbre de ce que Klaus Schulze intitula autrefois « paysage d’hiver électronique » (sur l’album Mirage) : une musique résolument technologique, postindustrielle, et dans le même temps rutilant d’ondes courtes et de boucles crépitantes, comme l’acier rouillé, ou la glace brisée (Le titre de l’album, Arktika est le nom de deux brise-glace russes à propulsion nucléaire). Le temps, crépuscule éternel ou aurore interminable, a tôt fait d’y transformer l’haleine en nuées de cristaux.FEAR DROP

There are about a half-dozen or so mind-bending avant-electronic projects rooted in Godflesh’s industrial metal, either through incredibly prolific core member Justin Broadrick or alumni Robert Hampson — Council Estate Electronics, which comes to you courtesy of Broadrick and long-time collaborator Diarmuid (Dermot) Dalton, is one of the very best. The Council Estate (which got set in motion around 2008) is meant to be a tribute to Broadrick and Dalton’s seminal influences in electronic music, created with analog equipment in long improvised sessions later edited down by Broadrick. Across their three-album discography they have already explored a wide variety of approaches, running the gamut from beatless concrete sounds to caustic and ethereal electronica. The 2009 debut Kitsland was aggressive, driving, and murky, bringing to mind Throbbing Gristle and SPK as much as early Tangerine Dream. That was the manifesto. 2012’s Longmeadow was a two-part, diffuse tableaux more gut-wrenching or powerful than the best of Final and Main put together, delivering the kind of ruinous catharsis that levels cities. That was the dark ambient record. But the latest from Council Estate Electronics, Arktika, off Rome’s always reliable Glacial Movements, is more in the vein of ghostly techno. Arktika is the second of Glacial Movements’ techno/dub focused Iceberg series. Time to buckle up.The beginning of “Urals” unfolds and a hammering kick provides a steady pulse, as monochrome textures convulse in the background. And that pulse stays put. Something is not right here. As is often the case with GM releases, song titles (“Polar Star”, “567 foot 33,500 ton”…) make it clear that these guys means business. The Arktika is in fact the name of an Icebreaker, the first of its kind to be commissioned by Russian state nuclear agency Rosatom, Type LK-60YA. The track of the same name, with its piercing stabs, rouses like an ancient machine deep inside the world readying itself. The weapons-grade industrial snarl of “Rosatom” charts a grim course. Are those alarms going off or the groans of parting ice fields? An irreversible change has taken place. But then, oddly enough, things seem to calm down. There’s still wonder to be seen all around, at least for now. With the damage done, we’re left with dreamy aftermath, the woozy Basic Channel vibe of tracks like “Liquefied Natural Gas.” The vision collapses at “60 Megawatts,” as the machine finally starts to give out. We’re left alone on silent seas. Glacial Movements’ releases, usually ambient-leaning, are usually so serene to take in. But not this time. Arktika is a shuddering vision of environmental catastrophe on the horizon. The exploitation of the concept was wise. A techno odyssey of a desolate and rare beauty from two masters.DECODER MAG

Riddled with implication, Godflesh and Jesu lifer Justin Broadrick teamed up with frequent collaborator and Jesu bassist Diarmuid Dalton under the Council Estate Electronics banner for the first time in four years this past October to pay tribute to the Russian nuclear-powered Arktika class of icebreaker (helpfully, the liner notes clarify that this is for the new LK-60YA Arktika class rather than the outgoing Arktika ships first launched in the 1970s). The eight songs herein are a rusting hulk of open arms for crudely constructed boats in two halves – “Urals” opens with nearly 11 minutes of minimal dub-techno throbbing and the kind of immersive (submersive?) white noise with which Jesu fans will no doubt be accustomed. It continues through songs like “567 foot 33,500 ton” and “Rosatom,” which could easily double as field recordings of the vessels’ construction from inside the hull. Reminiscent of material you’d find on Blackest Ever Black or Janushoved rather than Milan’s Glacial Movements, a label that’s served up Loscil and (most recently) the celestial sonic icescapes of Aria Rostami and Daniel Blomquist, this seems headed for a dark, industrial turn into the far reaches of the frigid north… But with “50 Let Pobody,” the vibe of the record suddenly shifts to a still-unsettling yet considerably more subdued tone. By the end of “60 megawatts,” you’re left thinking this release is most in line with the eerie, engrossing electronics of Pye Corner Audio. Chilly and chilling, Glacial Movements has hit another one out of the dry docks.DUSTED MAG

Secondo capitolo per la Iceberg Series della romana Glacial Movements Records guidata da Alessandro Tedeschi/Netherworld, per continuare a «descrivere tramite sonorità techno-dub quelle immense masse di ghiaccio» che danno il nome alla collana. Dopo un primo episodio dello stesso patron dell’etichetta, Zastrugi, recensito positivamente da Stefano Pifferi, la coda del 2016 vede la pubblicazione del secondo capitolo della serie, affidato a una coppia di lusso come quella formata da Justin Broadrick e Diarmuid Dalton. Il primo è un veterano, prima membro fondatore dei Napalm Death, poi impegnato in mille rivoli e altrettanti moniker per portare avanti la sua personalissima ricerca sonora su più fronti: l’industrial metal con i Godsend, sperimentazioni elettroniche come Techno Animal, l’alternative dal sapore shoegaze con i Jesu. Di questi ultimi fa parte anche Diarmuid Dalton, che è anche una delle anime di una altra interessante realtà metal/noise come gli Iroha. I due, entrambi di Birmingham, si conoscono dagli anni Ottanta, quando la città è uno dei centri dell’ondata di industrial ed elettronica che ha lavorato nell’underground inglese, e il nome scelto per il duo riporta direttamente ai progetti di riqualificazione urbana della loro città natale, segnando programmaticamente l’estetica di un act a cavallo tra desolazione cittadina, industrial, techno algida ed elettronica rigorosamente in analogico. Tutto nasce da lunghe session di improvvisazione che poi lo stesso Broadrick edita e confeziona fino a ottenere i brani finali, che nei primi due dischi propriamente detti (i Council Estate Electronics sono attivi dalla fine degli anni Duemila) rimandavano direttamente alle radici musicali dei due componenti: Throbbing Gristle, i primi Tangerine Dream, la Berlino dei primi Sessanta lato Kluster/Cluster. Fin dal titolo glaciale e dai nomi dei singoli brani, così profondamente innervati di Siberia e marina militare sovietica, l’adesione alla Iceberg Series dissecca i suoni e cristallizza le atmosfere. L’iniziale Urals, uno dei brani più riusciti del lotto, detta il passo di tutto l’album: un battito scheletrico che pulsa mentre algidi droni investono a ondate le casse, come una danza fantasmagorica in tonalità di techno/dub sbiancato. Qua e là (Liquified Natural Gas, Type LK-60YA) affiorano iceberg di kosmische music, brandelli di soundtrack marcia (567 foot 33,500 ton), aurore boreale quasi dreamy (50 Let Pobody). Il viaggio da fine del mondo dell’Arktika riesce perfettamente a restituire il feeling gelato che permea le uscite di Glacial Movements e, forse non troppo sorprendentemente, a rendere cupo e livido un paesaggio che verrebbe da pensare imbiancato.SENTIRE ASCOLTARE

Ik nam automatisch aan dat een gezelschap dat zich van de naam Council Estate Electronics bedient in power electronics of rauw industrieel zou grossieren. Grimmige uitingen van onvrede, geboren uit de rauwe onderbuik van troosteloze betonnen hoogbouwflats. Maar het duo Justin Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, Final en nog honderd aliassen) en Diarmuid Dalton (Iroha, Jesu, Greymachine) tapt op haar debuut uit een ander, zij het even kil vaatje. De meeste platen op Glacial Movements lijken te zijn gemodelleerd naar de Arctische wind en het drijvende ijs, maar ‘Arktika’ is meer dan alleen maar ijzige ambient. De plaat is vernoemd naar een Russische nucleaire ijsbreker, die vanaf 2018 de Noordelijke Zeeroute open zal gaan helpen houden, en onder alle nummers ligt een gestage, diepe beat, als het stampen van de scheepsmotoren. Daarover heen wassen ijzige drones af en aan, langzaam op en neer golvend door filters die soms kraken als ijsschotsen die langs de romp schuren. Baspulsen en dubtechno-akkoorden stuwen de muziek vooruit, als een noordelijke echo van Porter Ricks’ nautische debuutalbum, waarbij de meeste mist is opgelost in de kraakheldere vrieslucht. Eenzaam modulerende synth-tonen waaieren soms als flarden noorderlicht boven de horizon. Zeker aan het begin zijn er een paar dreigende momenten – die me soms aan Techno Animals ‘Re-Entry’ doen denken – maar eenmaal onderweg legt de plaat een uitgekiende deken van desolate ambient dub over de luisteraar. De achtersteven verdwijnen uiteindelijk uit zicht met het wegsterven van het laatste Basic Channel-akkoord. Laten we hopen dat er nog ijs over is om te breken wanneer het schip eenmaal uitvaart.GONZO CIRCUS