Movement Building Vol. 2
Gabriel Saloman is a reality pacifist. You can hear it in his sounds. His voice through music. The place where the neoclassical archive meets and the austerity broadcast ends. Much of Gabriels sonics are like this. They taper off gradually and reach a peak of ennui through a concentrated, tonal approach.
But let us remember the staggering “Bigger Time” collaboration with Peter Broderick for a moment. It is interesting to factor in the aggrandisement of bass in neoclassical arrangements, and indeed ambient and rock for padding compositions with an undercarriage and fetal-like understanding of movement, hum and dynamics. Mostly Saloman tackles bass and hum with a questioning crux, a dodo in a desert hegemony towards sonics, pacing and the vocals flooding into your soul. But it need not be dense. Like a gas explosion in a nuclear power station, bass can spread collateral listening damage, whereas this album in the hands of Gabriels walks that fine line between the two elements in protoconversation with each other. Static bubbles, a ringing hymn, time takes all that it has to bring. The results are a polished quality where the psyche is submerged in a watering hole, trying it’s best to find the correct way out.
We often look to correctness as a former exactitude, an example to set for someone else, or an alternative to lathering on the blather. Politely making its case for one of the classical embodying records of 2015, Saloman really speaks for pacifism through dream emission. This paradox is ultimately what has drawn lots of us mixed media dabblers and divers to mix up music with other forms of expression, and unlike solips ism, pacifism is without fate. Gabriel Saloman provides tracks here with a beautifully bench-pressed muscular abandon that confirms him as an author of true outsider classical music.