15 Questions to Kontakte from tokafi
Modesty and reticence may be admirable traits in a person. But in music, they are mostly a sure-fire recipe for mediocrity. Well aware of this equation, London-based fourpiece Kontakte have made grand gestures and big ambitions the foundation of their oeuvre. Following in the footsteps of an already anything but shy debut, Soundtracks to Lost Road Movies, their second full-length We Move Through Negative Spaces marks another progression for the band: Yet more epic in its architecture, even more varied in its stylistic outreach, more daring in its arrangements, more ecstatic in its moments of blissful euphoria and more forlorn in its instances of sweet melancholia, it maximises the quartet’s sound and scope in every possible way: Pieces like proudly triumphant opener „Astralagus“ as well as a two-part, fifteen-minute closing suite composed of „Every Passing Hour“ and „The Ocean Between You and Me“, are inspired as much by the dynamics and emotional catharsis of rock as by forces of nature: Howling walls of stormy distortion, the burning brightness of shimmering harmonics and cooling waves of consoling harmonies combine into a work that is sure to leave no one cold – and many feverishly aroused. At the same time, the album marks a gradual shift in Kontakte’s stylistic outreach. While Soundtracks to Lost Road Movies was still indebted to the aesthetics of Krautrock, the title to standout-piece „Motorik“ openly referencing the genre’s emphasis on hypnotic grooves and slow-simmering rhythmical propulsion, for example, We Move Through Negative Spaces offers the highly personal blend of a Post Rock band driven by stuttering elecronic beats and the finely nuanced sensibilities of a neoclassical ensemble – with befriended violinist Brigid McCafferty adding timbral richness on select instances. The general impression of the album is therefore one of a work of change, and it is further reinforced by the inclusion of two pieces written by former member Paul Burton, thereby linking past, present and future of the band in an intriguing fashion. That is a challenging proposition for sure – but Kontakte would undoubtedly not have it any other way.
Hi! How are you? Where are you?
Hi. We’re good thanks. We are spread across the globe right now – three of the band are based in London and one in Toronto, Canada.
What’s on your schedule right now?
The past few months have seen us getting things together for the release of our second album ‘We Move Through Negative Spaces’ (Drifting Falling Records). It’s been a labour of love for the past two years and has been worth every drop of blood, sweat and tears on our part! We are really proud of the record, and the good feedback it is starting to receive (hopefully) shows that people can hear the passion and care we put into the writing, recording and production.
How would you describe and rate the music scene of the country you are currently living in?
Well, the band is based in London, which is a fantastically diverse city for music. There are other great cities in the world where you can find brilliant music scenes full of enthusiastic listeners, but London seems to be a melting pot for almost any kind of sound or movement in music. It’s fascinating that whatever you listen to, whether it is Jazz, Classical, Doom Metal or Skiffle (!) – you are going to find a club or night dedicated to that somewhere in London. As a musician that can be exciting, but at the same time frustrating – simply as there are so many artists vying for the attention of listeners, it can be difficult to stand out from the crowd.
Do you see yourself as part of a certain tradition or as part of a movement?
Not really, no. There are obvious comparisons that people and reviewers make with our music (dare we say p**t-r**k) – but I guess it’s only natural for people to try and group things together sometimes for ease of reference. To be honest it’s not something that we really pay too much attention to though – we’d rather just be judged on our own merits (as any band/artist would). In terms of tradition though – there is definitely a lineage of interesting music going back through the years that we’d like to think we’re building on in some way. I don’t think there are many ideas left which haven’t been explored in some form already, so anything we do now is obviously influenced by people before us. I guess starting with early electronic music (hence the band name), right through to MBV, Spacemen 3, and more recent (and perhaps more obvious) influences like Godspeed You Black Emperor.
Are there any movements in music any more in 2011?
Don’t know – you tell us!? Our individual tastes are pretty diverse and I don’t think we really latch onto scenes or movements as such. Just seeking out good music is enough for us, regardless of when it was made, or by whom. Sometimes the best way to discover ‘new’ music is by reading about artists you like and admire, and finding out what has influenced them. It can sometimes be a bit overwhelming when you dig deeper and deeper and realise just how much great music that there is already out there (let alone things that are coming out this year) that you haven’t discovered or listened to yet.
In terms of composition, what do you consider your main challenges?
First and foremost the main challenge is to keep it interesting for ourselves. We do this because we love it. If it ever gets to the point where it is no longer interesting or enjoyable then we’d have to find something else to keep us busy. The best way of achieving this is to always keep pushing on and trying new things – different sounds, different arrangements, even swapping instruments – just to keep challenging yourselves in some way.
We aim to write music that is both delicate and powerful at the same time – and the key element that is needed to convey these (sometimes conflicting) ideas, is a good use of dynamics. It needs to move, build, and be fluid within its own space … and surprise the listener. It’s sometimes a challenge to achieve these different things within a track, and find the right balance between the various elements, but we’d like to think that more times than not we get close to what we’re trying to achieve.
How would you describe your method of composing?
In a word … iterative! Due to the part-electronic, part-live instrumentation nature of the band there usually needs to be some sort of pre-preparation necessary in terms of electronic elements when we write. Songs can start around just a simple beat, or a synth line, which we’ll play together over – finding what works, what doesn’t, and how the track can be structured. Then it’s a case of re-programming the electronic elements to suit and playing through again with live instruments, again noting what works and what doesn’t etc. And repeat ad infinitum …! It’s sometimes hard to know when to stop (this recent set of songs took almost two years to pin down), but it’s the way that works for us right now.
Software like Ableton Live is bringing us closer to the point of being able to improvise whilst writing in terms of beats and electronics as well, but at the moment we don’t have enough pairs of hands in the band to make full use of that … Though it is something that we’d like to explore in the future. With one of us now based overseas we’re also starting to explore ways of collaborating on new material remotely, and exchanging ideas online. It may change the way things work a bit, but we’re hopeful that we can all still contribute to new tracks and keep making good music together.
In which way, would you say, is your cultural background reflected in your work?
Short answer … I don’t know. Your background and upbringing is always going to influence what you do in all aspects of your life, but as for how it affects our music I’m not sure to be honest. I think one trait that we share as a group is an underlying sense of optimism … whatever bad things happen, and however bleak things may seem sometimes, I think we share the ability to see some light at the end of the tunnel – and I think that comes across in our music (though I’m not sure that was the question you were asking!).
How do you see the relationship between sound and composition?
Both are equally important. The best records are those that are made up of interesting sounds and textures – where you can find a new layer, or something you hadn’t noticed before, every time you go back to it. For me personally, the first time I heard Loveless was the first time I realised that a track could be more than just verse, chorus, melody etc – it was the nature of the sound itself that was just as important (if not more so).
It may not be that obvious from our music, but a couple of us have become obsessed recently with Tim Hecker’s work. His records are so interesting from a sound design perspective – things are so heavily processed that often it’s not discernible what the original sound sources were. Yet even amongst all that dissonance and the abrasive textures, there is still something very human-sounding – and captivating – about what he does. He sets the bar pretty high in terms of creating interesting sound in its own right, coupled with great compositional skills.
How strictly do you separate improvising and composing?
For us, the two are interlinked. Improvisation is a key part of the song-writing process – just sitting and making music together, and reacting to what others are playing is the best way of putting together new material. As mentioned above though – the nature of the band means that we can’t write in a 100% improvisational way … there has to be an element of pre-preparation when we’re writing new music – even if it’s only a drum beat, or a synth line, to play against and improvise around.
What does the term „new“ mean to you in connection with music?
This might be quite a literal answer … but to us ‘new music’ is just something you haven’t personally heard before. As we said above, some of the most exciting musical discoveries aren’t necessarily newly released, they’re just new to you at the time.
I think at one point electronic music in general might have sounded ‘new’ to people because of the emergence of new technology but that’s long gone now. Anyone can create these sounds these days, so the challenge is in coming up with new ways of using technology, and/or combining it with other sounds, to create something that avoids sounding tired.
Do you personally enjoy multimedia as an enrichment or do you feel that it is leading away from the essence of what you want to achieve?
Multimedia in terms of visuals? To us there is a definite link between music and visual images, but sometimes we’re in two minds about how we should use that as a band. We originally started using visuals as a backdrop for live performance to try and draw the audience attention away from us as performers – so that they would be focused on something else, and therefore maybe appreciate the music in a different way. We hoped that by leading their eyes away from us playing the individual parts it would somehow allow them to listen to the music as a single body of sound, and hear it the way we imagined it in our heads. But then at the same time I think it is important not to dictate to a listener what they should be imagining when they hear our music – we’d rather individuals made their own minds up about what the songs mean to them.
I guess artwork sort of falls into this category as well – packaging is an important element of any release. MP3’s are very convenient, but the download-only culture of music consumption is not something that really makes sense to us, as it removes that sense of physical connection a listener has with the people who created the music. I think that’s part of the reason we put so much effort into producing a limited edition version of this album – with a DVD, individual photos, and various other bits and pieces – things which can’t necessarily be replicated in digital form.
The films that friends put together for three of the album tracks, and which are on the limited edition DVD, are an example of how multimedia elements can be used to enhance what we’re doing. We’re honoured that these people were willing to spend so much time putting together the films, and they have definitely added something of their own to each of the tracks. This was in effect a ‘one-way’ collaboration though – the tracks were essentially complete and the film makers put together their interpretation of them. In the future we’d love to try working in conjunction with a director to create an original sound track for film work. That would be really interesting.
So … sorry, that’s a very long-winded answer! But in answer to your original question – no we don’t think multimedia elements detract from what we’re trying to achieve. Used wisely they can really enhance what you are doing – but (as with the music itself) they need the right level of care and attention to detail.
What constitutes a good live performance in your opinion? What’s your approach to performing on stage?
The key thing that a good show needs is a connection with the audience. It doesn’t matter whether you are playing to 10 people or 500 – if you can sense that they are into what you are doing then it gives you more energy, and pushes you on to perform better. Our live set up is quite reliant on technology, so our approach is to do everything we can to turn up early and get a good sound check! Things tend to go wrong when we’re expected to just plug in and start playing.
We see live performances as being a separate experience to listening to our music on record – there is a more physical connection with the listener at a live show (often simply through volume), as opposed to sitting at home with your headphones on. It is easier to get across the subtleties sometimes on record, but it is very difficult (if not impossible) to reproduce the physical nature of a live show during recording. Neither experience is better than the other – just different.
How, would you say, could non-mainstream forms of music reach wider audiences without sacrificing their soul?
That’s a really difficult question. We would love our music (and that of other non-mainstream bands/artists we admire) to get more recognition from the wider public, but I worry that if this did happen then it may start to change the music being made somehow. It’s hard to articulate why. We definitely don’t subscribe to that ‘indie’ ethic where anyone who tastes success automatically loses their credibility, but as a listener I think part of the appeal of non- mainstream music is that sense of discovery when you find something new that you love. It somehow makes it more special knowing that you are part of something that most people don’t understand and are missing out on. I don’t think that’s a particularly good answer to your question (!), but it’s more of a gut feeling than anything.
As for how it could happen … I guess you need to rely on artists who have achieved some level of success (whilst retaining their credibility) to try and open their audiences eyes/ears to other new things. For example, The Cure taking 65daysofstatic out on a stadium tour with them, or Mogwai taking smaller bands they admire out as support acts all over the world. I suppose ‘exploiting’ other forms of more mainstream media would be another way into the public eye. It may be generalising slightly, but a lot of this type of music lends itself to soundtrack work – whether it is for films, videogames, or even maybe theatre. Audiences can get subliminally exposed to music in this way that they perhaps wouldn’t seek out ordinarily. For most bands though opportunities like this would be few and far between.
You are given the position of artistic director of a festival. What would be on your program?
All sorts … I think to reflect the diverse range of things that the four of us are into we would need a stage each to keep us all happy! Stuart would curate the ‘earplugs mandatory’ stage – headlined by Swans, with Sunn O))), Earth, Jesu, Nisennenmondai and Belong. Ben would curate the ‘laptops and guitars’ stage – Tim Hecker and Ben Frost collaboration to headline, with Fennesz, The Sight Below, Marcus Fischer, Jasper TX. Ian would curate the ‘strings and keys’ stage – headlined by Ludivico Einaudi, with Olafur Arnalds, Eluvium, Nils Frahm and Amiina. Gary would curate the ‘anything goes stage’ – headlined by Radiohead with Tool, Alan Jackson and Volcano Choir. There would also need to be a film tent showing the first series of Twin Peaks on repeat 24 hours a day throughout the whole festival! David Lynch is a genius.
Many artists dream of a “magnum opus”. Do you have a vision of what yours would sound like?
In a word, no – at least not yet anyway. Perhaps that just means though that we haven’t peaked yet (!) and we’re still refining our songwriting skills and musicianship. It’s important to have grand ambitions for your music, and to aim high as you can – and I think we’ll continue to better ourselves in the future and hopefully keep making music that means something to people. At this point in time though we’re happy with where we are, and we’re proud of this most recent album. We put so much into it that we’re just excited for it to finally be out there, and hoping that people can identify with it.
Kontakte Discography:
Soundtracks to Lost Road Movies (Drifting Falling) 2008
We Move Through Negative Spaces (Drifting Falling) 2011
Muso’s Guide reviews Kontakte’s “We Move Through Negative Spaces”
We Move Through Negative Spaces is the second album from the London-based Kontakte, and one that improves hugely on their promising 2008 debut, Soundtracks To Lost Road Movies.
Without drastically changing their approach, they have studied, evolved and expanded their sound to stunning effect. Each of the eight tracks blend seamlessly into the next without any of them sounding like another. Their dedication to coherence should be applauded. The arrangement of an album as a whole is a skill overlooked by so many, and in a modern world of bite-sized chunks and disposable arts, musicians taking the bigger picture into consideration are always welcome.
For the most part, it is a familiar territory. Kontakte take their cue from other groups with a similar manifesto (think M83 or Fuck Buttons amongst others), and while the basis of the record is a layered wall of sound and synthesised drum patterns, there is a more organic feel underpinning the music. At times it’s hard to tell what is or isn’t synthesised, but it’s so well produced that in the end it doesn’t matter. Every sound and instrument is blended immaculately, real or otherwise, and combines to create lush new scenery with the start of each track.
The overall tone lies somewhere between hopeful and melancholic. Songs like ‘Hope’ and ‘The Owls Won’t See Us In Here’ utilise distorted feedback and reverb to fill out the backdrops. ‘Early Evening Bleeds Into Light’ and ‘Every Passing Hour’ put strings to excellent use, the latter as poignant a four minutes as you’re ever likely to hear. Exploring these emotional depths actually gives We Move Through Negative Spaces more in common with Clint Mansells The Fountain soundtrack than any other contemporary artists. The intricacies and attention to detail, the ethereal soundscapes and sweeping movements all add up to something with genuine substance and profundity, and that isn’t a statement you can make very often.
After withdrawing into an extended hibernation following their critically acclaimed debut three years ago, it shouldn’t now come as a surprise to discover they spent most of that time writing and honing this record. It was well worth the wait. Let’s hope it gets the attention it deserves.
Autres Directions reviews Pawn’s “Islet EP”
Electronique, harpe de verre, bribes de piano et de guitare entrevues au microscope. Le travail du japonais Hideki Umezawa tient dans un mouchoir de poche. Pour s’en convaincre, il suffira de flâner quelque peu dans les champs électro-acoustiques d’Islet ep, courte introduction aux soleils levants de l’ambient et de l’électronica typiques. S’il n’y a rien de foncièrement original dans ces cinq pièces composées au gré du temps, ce joli disque édité par le label Drifting Falling dispose d’une aura suffisamment enchanteresse pour que l’on s’attarde un instant sur son sens travaillé de la contemplation. Ici les brumes matinales se dissipent aux premiers rayons de soleil, laissant percevoir quelques autres sonorités d’extérieur. Islet ep est un léger éveil des sons, une trace, une résonance, musique lointaine et sans histoires qui ne s’attache qu’à la lumière des petites choses. Chez Pawn, le sacre tout relatif du printemps s’étudie alors en grande partie à la faveur d’un regard pointilliste. Le reste s’imagine comme il se doit. En tête, à l’abri du vent
God is in The TV » Track by track: Kontakte “We Move Through Negative Spaces”
Track by track: Kontakte: We Move Through Negative Spaces
by Bill Cummings – April 13, 2011We Move Through Negative Spaces is the second studio album from London based noise experimentors Kontakte.
We Move Through Negative Spaces seeks to highlight Kontakte’s penchant for producing music of extreme highs and lows, this second album raises the bar in terms of songwriting, instrumentation and production.
Following live dates to promote their debut, Soundtracks To Lost Road Movies, the autumn of 2009 saw the band withdraw from live performances to focus on writing new material, which would become their second album. The winter of that year found them in hibernation, watching the snowfall outside and writing and recording between their home studios and rehearsal room. Zeroing in on the tiniest of detail, the long process involved meticulously recording and listening to hours of guitar layers, textures, beats, piano and strings. Winter became spring and in the summer of 2010 they emerged with 8 finished tracks. Each track was written with the others in mind with thought given to how each would sit next to the other and be heard, not separately, but as a collection of songs – a continuous hour of music.
To celebrate its release the band kindly guided us through their new long player track by track:
Astralagus:
The opening track on the album was initially built from the beats upwards. A small loop was put through various delay and glitch processors, chopped up, reprocessed, looped again and then re-worked.
That in a nutshell is how a lot of our tracks can be constructed. It’s a continual method of trying things out until we get something we’re happy with. Once all the members give that knowing ‘nod’ in the rehearsal room, then we know we’re getting somewhere.
Hope… :
This was probably the first track we had written for the album. It was included in our live sets almost 2 years ago. In terms of the changing subtleties of the guitar melodies, the textures of sound and the sheer magnitude of power – it’s gets us closer to what we’re aiming for in terms of dynamics within a piece of music. It’s still an exciting track to play live, I think it will always be.
With Glowing Hearts :
There are certain moments when writing new music where everything just fits into place and you’re able to feel very confident about how things are developing. Moments like that are quite special and they start to set a tone for what’s ahead. It isn’t a myth that in some instances, music can seem to ‘write itself’. This track was one of those moments.
Early Evening Bleeds Into Night :
This started out as a very simple, melancholic piano piece. Further instruments and melodies were added, and it soon presented itself as a much bolder piece amongst the rest of the album tracks. Another example of where a piece of music can take itself if you simply allow it to. A fond memory of recording this would be on a freezing night in January and Ian having a ‘Phil Spector’ moment. Gary was to stand in a freezing hallway, shivering with gloves on playing the Glockenspiel – because the reverb ‘sounded right’ in there!
A Snowflake In Her Hand :
This is a possible signature track for us from the album. What started out as a series of guitar loops soon blossomed into something we’re very proud of.
The layering of the strings was quite important in terms of the production. It needed to lift in the right places and become something quite bold, as the track starts off in quite a fragile and brittle way. It’s a constructive method of using the same repeating patterns so that they become hypnotic and ethereal to the ear, whilst adding surrounding elements and textures in order to ‘build’ the track.
The Owls Won’t See Us In Here :
This again was a real melting pot in the rehearsal room. We have good memories of piecing all the different parts of this one together. We were conscious of this track not becoming a full blown guitar assault or even repeating the first heavier section again, which would have been quite easy and straightforward to do (but maybe very obvious to do?).
Again, the melodies at the end aim to pull you in whilst the beats begin to become more intense and engulf everything they are trying to hold together.
The method of splicing up pre-programmed beats was also used here.
In a same way that William Burroughs used to ‘cut-up’ his sentences and paragraphs and fix them all back together in a way that when read as a whole, they made some sort of sense – but individually they would seem completely fractured and nonsensical.
There is something quite creative and satisfying in destroying something you’ve written and then piecing it back together in a different way, it gives you results you may never have imagined initially.
Every Passing Hour :
The calm before the storm?
Our first album was definitely a case of us getting ‘something off our chest’ and that was heavily dependant at the time on jumping on distortion pedals. As a band unit we’ve felt a lot more comfortable in our skin this time round and that’s allowed us to try more things and be confident to experiment a lot further.
This track consists of a violin (double tracked), an acoustic guitar and a very distant synth line. Almost in an attempt to pull everything back to its roots to see if we could write something that is still effective and moving – but without it culminating into a sheer wall of noise.
The Ocean Between You And Me :
Which in turn brings us to the last track (ha!).
It might be the obvious closer for some but where else could it have sat on the album? The building tension of the album as a whole finally lets itself go at this point.
This track was quite a challenge when it came to the production. There is a lot going on here, maybe more than meets the ear initially. Trying to create a sense of balance between the plaintive movements of the first section and the dynamic shift of the intense outro.
What we have aimed to use to tie it all together is a continuous use of melody.
Amongst the noise and crescendo there is still melody in there. When listening you may have to work a bit to get to it, but it is in there, and for us the combination of noise – melody – texture – is what sits at the heart of KONTAKTE.
Caleidoscoop reviews Kontakte’s “We Move Through Negative Spaces”
Na een aantal bescheiden 7”-es in 2007 debuteert de Britse band Kontakte in 2008 met hun ijzersterke cd Soundtracks To Lost Road Movies. Hierop maken ze in hun gruizige en veelal ruimtelijke muziek een mooie mix van shoegaze, krautrock, ambient, psychedelische rock, post rock, space rock en avant-garde. De nummers zijn instrumentaal en bevatten heel af en toe een sample met gesproken tekst, wat voor een filmisch effect zorgt. Ook komt er behoorlijk wat motorik voor in de muziek, wat alles met hun voorliefde voor bands als Neu! en Kraftwerk heeft te maken. Dit is tevens de verklaring van de Duitse naam van de groep. Drie jaar duurt het voor ze terugkeren uit de ruimte om hun volgende album We Move Through Negative Spaces het licht te laten zien. Zoals vaker wisselt de groep nog wel eens van line-up. Oprichter Ian Griffiths (bas, programmering) en Ben Worth (gitaar) zijn er nog steeds bij. Drummer Paul Burton hebben ze ingewisseld voor de twee muzikanten Gary McDermott en Stuart Low, die gitaren en percussie meebrengen. Op hun nieuwe plaat staan ze stevig met hun beide benen op de grond en hebben ze de krautock- en psychedelische invloeden grotendeels van zich afgeschud. Daarvoor in de plaats komen nu epische muren vol stofzuigergitaren en regelmatig ook lekker knetterende elektronica. Overigens zijn dat geen granieten muren, want de stofzuigergeluiden worden door een flinke dosis shoegaze minder massief gemaakt. Los van de heftige stukken laat de band zich nu eveneens vaker van de gevoelige kant horen en passeren allerlei nachtelijke, subtiele en zelfs klassieke geluiden de revue. Je hoort naast een klokkenspel ook af en toe het prachtig tranentrekkende vioolspel van Brigid McCafferty. In een nummer als “A Snowflake In Her Hand” komen ze zelfs ergens tussen ambient en glitch uit. De rode draad op het album wordt gevormd door de warme melancholie en de filmische sfeer. Met name de tweede helft van de cd is uiterst subtiel, rustiek en van een overweldigende schoonheid. Je moet denken aan een nostalgische mix van 65daysofstatic, Mogwai, Mono, Godspeed You! Black Emperor enSlowdive. Alles klopt op dit album; op het juiste moment een versnelling, een uitbarsting of juist verstilde pracht. Dat alles is gehuld in prachtige melancholie die je regelmatig weet te overrompelen. De zogenaamde hobbel van het tweede album hebben ze met zevenmijlslaarzen met alle gemak en op verbluffende wijze genomen.
Kontakte reviewed by Der Impuls
Eine zweite Veröffentlichung hinzulegen ist nicht immer von Erfolg gekrönt. Es gibt zahlreiche Beispiele, wo das zweite Album dem Debüt hinterher hinkt. Ist ja auch keine leichte Aufgabe. Aber einigen gelingt es diese Herausforderung zu meistern und schaffen es ein noch besseres Album an den Mann zu bringen. Besten Beispiel ist gerade die Band Kontakte. Die bringen dieser Tage ihr neustes Werk heraus.
We Move Through Negative Spaces ist wie einSoundtrack für einen nie abgedrehten Film. EpischenSound lassen dem Hörer wahnsinnige Bilder vor dem geistigen Auge aufkommen und nimmt ihn auf eine weite Reise mit. Ungewohnte Klangerlebnisse, die zwar nicht für Jedermann ansprechend sind, besitzen eine große Tiefe. Melodien, die im Kopf kleben bleiben. Intensität und Emotion zählen zu den Grundelementen der vier Musiker.
Sicherlich, es ist ein Album das spaltet. Für die einen wird es unhörbar sein, weil es von gewohntem Musikspiel leicht abweicht. Die Anderen aber, die mit viel Gefühl und Herz an dieses Album heran gehen werden, entdecken die vielen kleinen Nuggets in den Tönen. Die Kombination aus Elektronik und Postrock liegt nicht jedem. Aber ein Versuch sollte drin sein.
Die EP Snowflake Remixes wird über bandcamp verschenkt.
We Move Through Negative Spaces erscheint am 15. März 2011 über Drifting Falling.
freqzine reviews “we move through negatives spaces” by kontakte
Kontakte are one of those bands whose music is determined to make all the angst and cares of the world slip away into the place buried far, far away from the territory which they map out with bright-eyed enthusiasm, a landscape participated in through endless journeys and defined by bright colours sharply-defined in broad, dynamic strokes. This is not to deny the hint of melancholia, but as the music shifts the mood evolves into one of hopeful optimism, slipping into the realms of sun-dappled intensity on waves of heart-breaking/soothing strings and ultimately uplifting electronics while the guitars bring the noise as and when the motion can no longer be denied.
As hinted at on the “Superbug” single, the drum machines are performing new duties for Kontakte as compared to the simpler structures which anchored their 2008 début album Soundtracks To Lost Road Movies. Now, scuttling breakbeats shift the motive forces in less motorik directions, a change of gear at the heart of their sound which is complemented by the strings which ride on the swell of lushly-glimmering synth pads. Sidling in a hiss of vinyl static, crackle and pop, there are hints not only of acts who have explored these electro-symphonic pastures such as Icebreaker International but as ever the kosmische influence of Cluster in their sugartime electronica phase is never entirely absent, nor are the ancestral influence of Manuel Göttsching‘s utopian guitar as played in Ash Ra Tempel. But as heard on the epic rising tide of “Hope,” Kontakte are very much their own band, effortlessly achieving weightless lift-off on a helix swirl of slap-back echoes and heads-down, rocket-fuelled riffing.
It is simply impossible to be remotely unhappy while listening to this album. What is so engaging about We Move Through Negative Spaces though is the balance struck between the deceptively simple way in which a song can go from ultra-pleasant uncoiling ripples of guitar, glockenspiel glimmer and intricate rhythm programming to reach so hard for the stars that this music could be used as soundtrack to an motivational course video aimed at curing the hard of heart or the down of mood. It is simply impossible to be remotely unhappy while listening to this album; wistfully melancholic, perhaps, at the point of maximum immersion in such moving pieces as “A Snowflake In Her Hand,” where the cello and guitar segue together over the background hiss as they rise and ebb into a reflective percussion blissout, but never sad. Instead, Kontakte produce a bitter-sweet elevation of the senses, and achieve a Zen state of balance in the process.
– Richard Fontenoy
Pop Matters reviews Kontakte
On their sophomore album, London’s Kontakte strikes a perculiar but effective balance in textures. We Move Through Negative Spaces is as much informed by ambient music and electronica as it is by towering post-rock acts like Sigur Ros. Guitars ring out and build quiet layers, only to crash in distorted storms of sound later, while under it all programmed beats shuffle and blip. When the mix hits true, it achieves a deep rumble—“With Glowing Hearts” and closer “The Ocean Between You and Me” are slow-burn standouts—and it shows a compellingly seamless mesh between the organic and the technological. In a few spots, like the muscled churn of “Hope…”, the mix seems to miss the crashing live drums that the guitars call for, and in those cases there’s something slightly off kilter about the results. All in all, though, this is a unique slice of evocative, cinematic music. If these guys do in fact move through negative spaces, damned if they don’t fill them up quickly with this haunting sound.
Subba-Cultcha weighs in on Kontakte’s “We Move Through Negative Spaces”
Kontakte are, as well as being a dab-hand at subverting the ol’ spell checker, a London based four-piece creating sparse post-rock sounds capes of melody with an electronic twist. Think Mogwai or 65daysofstatic segueing in and out with a drum machine driven Radiohead and you’re sort of there. We Move Through Negative Spaces is the second studio album from these guys after 2009’s debut of Soundtracks To Lost Road Movies.
Since that album the band have spent their time locked away in isolation through the months, meticulously planning a new batch of songs to entice listeners ears with. It is said that each track was written with the others in mind, with a strong awareness of how each would sit next to the other and be consumed as an album – a continuous hour of music. This is certainly apparent from the faux record scratches and pops that peak out from between the relative quiet spaces between the tracks; the tracks that all lay in the post-six minutes in length region (all but the haunting softly spoken acoustics and violin flourishes of ‘Every Passing Hour’), such is their expansiveness.
The album is full of reverberating walls of sound, whether it’s the hazy synthetic thrum of ‘Astralagus’, or the glitch-core drum machine marvels of ‘Hope…’ and its sudden eruption of guitar attack intensity. Even the placid, deep space hum of ten-minute album closer ‘The Ocean Between You And Me’ and its cheeky xylophone refrains are a wonder to listen to.
We Move Through Negative Spaces is nothing new, nothing groundbreaking. There isn’t a catchy chorus or bit you can dance to in sight, and yet, it all flows so smoothly, working as a calming, coherent package. The tracks are masterfully crafted with layers of guitars and other sounds working together throughout the hour of instrumental joys. This is the perfect album to put you to sleep. In the best possible way.
The Quietus share their 1600 word thesis on “We Move Through Negative Spaces” by Kontakte
Technology pulls us ever onward, whether we like it or not. Labour-saving devices give us greater leisure time, yet the free moments we gain seem increasingly fractured and pressurised. From the simple, hard, agrarian way of life rendered obsolete by the Industrial Revolution, to the equally game-changing advance of digital communications technology within our own lifetimes, burdens of toil once considered inevitable are lifted, while once-undreamt-of possibilities are placed easily within reach. The old tasks can be achieved so much quicker, but the list of new things to do can seem almost infinite. And as with so many revolutions, the saviour can soon turn tyrant, as we find we are merely marching to the beat of a different drum; a drum that beats faster with every round.
Such is the train of thought triggered by listening to Kontakte’s second album: a record of sweeping, skyscraping post-rock instrumentals driven – indeed characterised – by the spring-coiled skittergrind beats of its IDM-influenced electronic drum programmes. At its best, as on ‘Early Evening Bleeds into Night,’ where the low drone of ominous strings and sombre piano notes are ever harried by clicking, nagging clicks, whirrs and taps, the music seems to act as a metaphor for the human condition and its relationship with its own technological advances. It’s in the way the organic musical sounds always seem to want to hang back, slow and spacious, exploring each moment, letting the sadness and the possibilities resonate in the spaces between the notes, while the mechanical rhythm track is constantly urging them forward. If it acts as an irritant then it’s also enlivening, providing purpose and forward momentum where otherwise there might just be navel-gazing reveries, decadent dreams and languid, Proustian yearnings for days lost, as represented here by the keening, almost Romany violin-like lead guitar melody.
Second track, ‘Hope…’is typical, sounding like a machine-driven, mid-period Mogwai, the familiar (if still effective) quiet-loud clichés giving way to an exhilarating rush as the drums charge maniacally ahead of the endlessly descending guitars, which resolutely refuse to move beyond an elegiac plod as ripples of unfolding melody ascend, Cure-like, to the seemingly singular surface. On ‘The Owls Won’t See Us In Here,’ the beats even sound like whip cracks, driving a musical wagon train that seems to shape-shift, under their relentless urging, from an aging mule on a mountain path to a western steam train in full reckless flight before our inner eye. And the crisp, melodic, bell-like guitar refrain of ‘With Glowing Hearts’ is forced first this way then that by nagging, nipping, mosquito-like percussive tics, until corrugated sheets of metallic noise descend on every side, penning the tune within.
Elsewhere, as on ‘A Snowflake in Her Hand’, the electronics are less intrusive, complementing rather than battling against the natural flow of the organic instruments, which are allowed to move forward at their own pace. Both approaches work, but Kontakte’s music is most interesting when the tensions are exaggerated and explored, with melody and rhythm pulling against each other and forging new, unexpected shapes as a result.
Unfortunately, Kontakte seem too often content to ape the standard clichés of grandiose, “cinematic” post-rock, as laid down originally by the likes of Mogwai, Godspeed! You Black Emperor and Explosions in the Sky, and since become over-familiar film and TV soundtrack fodder. Opening track ‘Astrolagus’ is a case in point, as is ‘Every Passing Hour,’ where weeping guitars, piano and fake-analog hum are arranged over a distant recording of children playing- surely the post-rock equivalent of the ‘funky drummer’ beat in old school hip-hop. It then fades into the inevitable ten-minute-plus closing track, which needless to say builds slowly towards an epic crescendo of nothing in particular. Even the predictably pretentious title (‘The Ocean Between You and Me’) makes it sound as though it were written for an airline advert; canned gravitas, instant significance, pop-out portent, a sense of drama without narrative or consequence.
It’s a criticism that could be levelled at many of their peers however, and Kontakte are by no means the guiltiest party when it comes to painting epic-by-numbers. As technology enables anyone with the inclination to conjure mad orchestral follies nightly in their bedroom, so musical movements that would not long ago have been emotionally devastating now seem merely run of the mill, and sounds that were once jaw-dropping now just leave us jaded. Played loud enough, at the right moment, possibly outdoors on a warm night (but still with a certain chill in the air), this album could still have the power to stir you profoundly. It remains to be seen whether you, or I, or anyone, can still make time enough in our lives for that to happen.
Technology pulls us ever onward, whether we like it or not. Labour-saving devices give us greater leisure time, yet the free moments we gain seem increasingly fractured and pressurised. From the simple, hard, agrarian way of life rendered obsolete by the Industrial Revolution, to the equally game-changing advance of digital communications technology within our own lifetimes, burdens of toil once considered inevitable are lifted, while once-undreamt-of possibilities are placed easily within reach. The old tasks can be achieved so much quicker, but the list of new things to do can seem almost infinite. And as with so many revolutions, the saviour can soon turn tyrant, as we find we are merely marching to the beat of a different drum; a drum that beats faster with every round.
Such is the train of thought triggered by listening to Kontakte’s second album: a record of sweeping, skyscraping post-rock instrumentals driven – indeed characterised – by the spring-coiled skittergrind beats of its IDM-influenced electronic drum programmes. At its best, as on ‘Early Evening Bleeds into Night,’ where the low drone of ominous strings and sombre piano notes are ever harried by clicking, nagging clicks, whirrs and taps, the music seems to act as a metaphor for the human condition and its relationship with its own technological advances. It’s in the way the organic musical sounds always seem to want to hang back, slow and spacious, exploring each moment, letting the sadness and the possibilities resonate in the spaces between the notes, while the mechanical rhythm track is constantly urging them forward. If it acts as an irritant then it’s also enlivening, providing purpose and forward momentum where otherwise there might just be navel-gazing reveries, decadent dreams and languid, Proustian yearnings for days lost, as represented here by the keening, almost Romany violin-like lead guitar melody.
Second track, ‘Hope…’is typical, sounding like a machine-driven, mid-period Mogwai, the familiar (if still effective) quiet-loud clichés giving way to an exhilarating rush as the drums charge maniacally ahead of the endlessly descending guitars, which resolutely refuse to move beyond an elegiac plod as ripples of unfolding melody ascend, Cure-like, to the seemingly singular surface. On ‘The Owls Won’t See Us In Here,’ the beats even sound like whip cracks, driving a musical wagon train that seems to shape-shift, under their relentless urging, from an aging mule on a mountain path to a western steam train in full reckless flight before our inner eye. And the crisp, melodic, bell-like guitar refrain of ‘With Glowing Hearts’ is forced first this way then that by nagging, nipping, mosquito-like percussive tics, until corrugated sheets of metallic noise descend on every side, penning the tune within.
Elsewhere, as on ‘A Snowflake in Her Hand’, the electronics are less intrusive, complementing rather than battling against the natural flow of the organic instruments, which are allowed to move forward at their own pace. Both approaches work, but Kontakte’s music is most interesting when the tensions are exaggerated and explored, with melody and rhythm pulling against each other and forging new, unexpected shapes as a result.
Unfortunately, Kontakte seem too often content to ape the standard clichés of grandiose, “cinematic” post-rock, as laid down originally by the likes of Mogwai, Godspeed! You Black Emperor and Explosions in the Sky, and since become over-familiar film and TV soundtrack fodder. Opening track ‘Astrolagus’ is a case in point, as is ‘Every Passing Hour,’ where weeping guitars, piano and fake-analog hum are arranged over a distant recording of children playing- surely the post-rock equivalent of the ‘funky drummer’ beat in old school hip-hop. It then fades into the inevitable ten-minute-plus closing track, which needless to say builds slowly towards an epic crescendo of nothing in particular. Even the predictably pretentious title (‘The Ocean Between You and Me’) makes it sound as though it were written for an airline advert; canned gravitas, instant significance, pop-out portent, a sense of drama without narrative or consequence.
It’s a criticism that could be levelled at many of their peers however, and Kontakte are by no means the guiltiest party when it comes to painting epic-by-numbers. As technology enables anyone with the inclination to conjure mad orchestral follies nightly in their bedroom, so musical movements that would not long ago have been emotionally devastating now seem merely run of the mill, and sounds that were once jaw-dropping now just leave us jaded. Played loud enough, at the right moment, possibly outdoors on a warm night (but still with a certain chill in the air), this album could still have the power to stir you profoundly. It remains to be seen whether you, or I, or anyone, can still make time enough in our lives for that to happen.