Artist: Bibio
Album: Ambivalence Avenue
Year: 2009
Grade: 3.5 pretzels
Continuing with my vow to take a critical stab at everything Pitchfork throws a Best New Music label at, Pretzel Logic’s burning gaze of critical analysis has found its way to British music producer Stephen Wilkinson, who records under the name of Bibio. Now, before I dive right into the meat-and-potatoes of my review, just take a moment and say that name to yourself a few times. Bibio. Bibio. Doesn’t that just make you feel all bubbly and happy? Yeah? No? Let’s move on…
Once again, Bibio (teehee!) is an artist whose work I am not familiar with in any way, shape or form. Thanks to the twin modern marvels of Wikipedia and music blogs, however, I’ve been able to gather a decent amount of background information about Mr. Wilkinson’s music. Bibio is considered an experimental electronic act, using a wide variety of samples and found sounds, which Wilkinson then incorporates into his own original recordings. Neat, huh? He also recently switched record labels, moving from the LA-based Mush Records to England’s legendary Warp Records, long seen as a pioneering force in the world of electronic music. It looks like Wilkinson and his Bibio project are on the rise.
Ambivalence Avenue is Wilkinson’s second release of the year, following his Vignetting The Compost album back in February. I have not listened to that record, so I can’t compare the two. However, after listening to Ambivalence Avenue, I’m very tempted to go back and check its twin album out. Avenue’s twelve tracks are all winning little slices of retro funk (as heard and recorded by a white British man) or charmingly fuzzy, folksy bursts of acoustic fun. There’s something profoundly sepia-toned about Bibio’s music, insofar as music can have a color. It all just screams “aww, wasn’t the past lovely?”
Of course, with any nostalgia of this type comes a certain degree of sadness and, sure enough, there’s plenty of that subtly permeating Ambivalence Avenue. The clearest example of this is the beautiful, tear-inducing “The Palm Of Your Wave”, which weeps and sighs along with a lilting, minor-key progression. However, most of the songs hide their maudlin nature a bit more, such as “Sugarette”, which uses a moody keyboard riff as the background for some pounding electronic beats and rhythms. Clocking in at barely more than a minute, “All The Flowers” harkens back to the beauty and sadness of the best Beach Boys songs. Actually, the closest relative to Ambivalence Avenue could be the Beach Boys’ longtime songwriting henchman, Van Dyke Parks and his wonderfully odd Song Cycle album.
While there are a multitude of lovely moments on the album, there are also a few that Wilkinson overwhelms with production, crushing their potential. Foremost amongst these is “Fire Ant”, which has the odd distinction of being one of the few songs I find physically painful to listen to. Something about its combination of crisp snare hits and staccato record scratches hits my eardrums in just the wrong way and I literally cannot listen to that song without grimacing in pain. “S’Vive” is another, less extreme example, where a shimmering melody is overrun by jerky electronics and beats. Wilkinson would do better to just let these moments grow naturally, as he does elsewhere on the album, instead of crushing them into sonic oblivion. However, a few moments of physical, auditory agony notwithstanding, Ambivalence Avenue is a very listenable album that has brought a new, potential-filled musician to my attention.
Once again, Bibio (teehee!) is an artist whose work I am not familiar with in any way, shape or form. Thanks to the twin modern marvels of Wikipedia and music blogs, however, I’ve been able to gather a decent amount of background information about Mr. Wilkinson’s music. Bibio is considered an experimental electronic act, using a wide variety of samples and found sounds, which Wilkinson then incorporates into his own original recordings. Neat, huh? He also recently switched record labels, moving from the LA-based Mush Records to England’s legendary Warp Records, long seen as a pioneering force in the world of electronic music. It looks like Wilkinson and his Bibio project are on the rise.
Ambivalence Avenue is Wilkinson’s second release of the year, following his Vignetting The Compost album back in February. I have not listened to that record, so I can’t compare the two. However, after listening to Ambivalence Avenue, I’m very tempted to go back and check its twin album out. Avenue’s twelve tracks are all winning little slices of retro funk (as heard and recorded by a white British man) or charmingly fuzzy, folksy bursts of acoustic fun. There’s something profoundly sepia-toned about Bibio’s music, insofar as music can have a color. It all just screams “aww, wasn’t the past lovely?”
Of course, with any nostalgia of this type comes a certain degree of sadness and, sure enough, there’s plenty of that subtly permeating Ambivalence Avenue. The clearest example of this is the beautiful, tear-inducing “The Palm Of Your Wave”, which weeps and sighs along with a lilting, minor-key progression. However, most of the songs hide their maudlin nature a bit more, such as “Sugarette”, which uses a moody keyboard riff as the background for some pounding electronic beats and rhythms. Clocking in at barely more than a minute, “All The Flowers” harkens back to the beauty and sadness of the best Beach Boys songs. Actually, the closest relative to Ambivalence Avenue could be the Beach Boys’ longtime songwriting henchman, Van Dyke Parks and his wonderfully odd Song Cycle album.
While there are a multitude of lovely moments on the album, there are also a few that Wilkinson overwhelms with production, crushing their potential. Foremost amongst these is “Fire Ant”, which has the odd distinction of being one of the few songs I find physically painful to listen to. Something about its combination of crisp snare hits and staccato record scratches hits my eardrums in just the wrong way and I literally cannot listen to that song without grimacing in pain. “S’Vive” is another, less extreme example, where a shimmering melody is overrun by jerky electronics and beats. Wilkinson would do better to just let these moments grow naturally, as he does elsewhere on the album, instead of crushing them into sonic oblivion. However, a few moments of physical, auditory agony notwithstanding, Ambivalence Avenue is a very listenable album that has brought a new, potential-filled musician to my attention.
Hey Simon, Audrey here.
ReplyDeleteThank you for exploring the frightening land of beeps and shit that is electronic, I knew you could wade through the dancy muck to see its merit.