“Spazio Sacro”, in lieu of a lilt, is a synaptic parchment quilt, cooked to the electroacoustic script, but almost accidental construction, like dropping a collinder on your foot instead of a Collins dictionary. The spatial resonances are firmly tied to TRS’ benchmark amorphous threshold, though, and it’s this flexibility of sound that gives both spasmodic and the sacred their charm. With a wilting rhythm section uprooted only by intuitive means, the textbook definition of practiced art, Giulio
Aldinucci has returned from his last outing with soberand elegaic drifts that teeter on the edge of random, at randomised intervals.
Very much the polarisation of practice is the spasm against the sacred. But paradoxically the spasm of the dogmatic is essential to progress in diversity of opinion. Just as musicians tread for an inner pulse, so they find their blood thickened by colder times, where the passage of life, and general togetherness, coagulates into a seismic void, one if not repressed against an already-there oppression lock, can destroy the equilibrium from which a great idea can be deployed.
Much of the best electroacoustic ‘sonic art’, in noise artist Trevor Wishart term-methodology, is also the result of sparing the convolution between a characteristic religiousity, or a one-sidedness to be more politically correct, spearheading concepts so that they come to fruition. What’s more, they have to be structurally viable in the first place. The lace-like neocortex, responsible since protomammalian times, for the brain’s interrealtionship between the two central (and most popularised) regions: the hippocampus (nerves), amygdala (emotions) is bridged here, giving unconscious (hippocampus) and conscious (amygdala) a furrow into the subconscious other side – past the junk-strewn matrix of moderated perception. And all these pieces, with their root-grasp on thought, rationale and emotion, perfectly encapsulate why this is one label to think about, listen to, as well as watch.