Graveyards is a collaborative effort featuring John Olson (of noise group Wolf Eyes) on electronics, saxophone and bass clarinet, Ben Hall on percussion and electronics and Hans Buetow on cello, engaging in a new kind of free improvisation. Although the group's sound may hint at times to both the most extreme ends of jazz improvisation (the Anthony Braxton/Richard Teitelbaum duets come to mind) as well as those of noise, Graveyards combines its sound into something different, a new and fertile ground for collective musical endeavor.
On Esprit de Corpse, the group's eighth release on Hall's own Brokenresearch label, the triumvirate plays its usual brand of slow, brewing music. The space around the notes is just as important as the notes themselves here. The group never rushes into things, opening the first of four untitled tracks with an eerie, high-pitched electronic tone riding over a lower repetitively undulating one that could well be Olson's saxophone, Buetow's cello, or even another electronic device—the difficulty in distinguishing one instrument from the rest only adds to the alien nature of this music. Slowly building as hisses, drones, and the odd assortment of notes see in and out of the mix (one second what sounds like cicadas, the next a washboard played by a hacksaw) this is hesitantly hostile music that the musicians even seem to be hesitantly inching themselves around. It feels to be unfamiliar ground for all involved.
On Esprit de Corpse, the group's eighth release on Hall's own Brokenresearch label, the triumvirate plays its usual brand of slow, brewing music. The space around the notes is just as important as the notes themselves here. The group never rushes into things, opening the first of four untitled tracks with an eerie, high-pitched electronic tone riding over a lower repetitively undulating one that could well be Olson's saxophone, Buetow's cello, or even another electronic device—the difficulty in distinguishing one instrument from the rest only adds to the alien nature of this music. Slowly building as hisses, drones, and the odd assortment of notes see in and out of the mix (one second what sounds like cicadas, the next a washboard played by a hacksaw) this is hesitantly hostile music that the musicians even seem to be hesitantly inching themselves around. It feels to be unfamiliar ground for all involved.
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