The Simple Plan

Indieville
Two thirds of drone act Monos bring us over an hour of ethereal, synthesizer and guitar based ambient music in the vein of Brian Eno, Steve Roach, and Pete Namlook. The record is characterized by shifting, soaring tones which gracefully overlap to mind-clearing effect. Certainly, this formula has been done before -- and by some very prominent folks, I'll add -- but that doesn't preclude The Simple Plan from being an inviting and evocative work of sky-bound elegance. It's a record which matches its cover (itself an example of drone music's blurred pastel trope) in terms of expected content; it's all dreamy, hazy, out-of-focus charm, tailored for vague rainy days and midnight hypnagogia. I found myself particularly engaged by the enrapturing "Alta Mesa," which melds soothing synths with effects-treated guitar atmospherics to evoke a blissful yet pensive aura; then feedback gets turned up near the track's end, eliciting a dense climax before a reverberating drop-off. Shimmering "Supernal," led by heavenly guitar chime, and momentously meditative "Gloaming" also rank among the disc's finer achievements, though the entire record, produced with minimal digital intervention, is ultimately a sturdy ambient treat for enthusiasts of restful, droning sound. Michael Tau

Brain Dead Eternity
Abrupt changes in life determine a lot. Subsequent occurrences go well enough, or the chosen course leads to disaster; we’ll never know in advance. But after a page is turned, there’s usually no way back and the truth must be accepted as it is. Both Paul Bradley and Colin Potter recorded this music under the influence of “significant new chapters” in their personal existence, deciding to leave the results of the studio procedures virtually untouched and with just a minimal intervention of the computer, utilized only to record and arrange the sounds.
Reality may indeed change, although when people like Bradley and Potter are involved you instantly identify the consequence in terms of sound. It’s spelled “magnetic drones”. In this field the pair belongs to the upper echelon, regardless of the instruments used (in this occasion, synthesizers and guitars processed by “a selection of new and classic pedals”). The Simple Plan constitutes the original root, five tracks whose mood – always confined within the borders of virtual stillness – ranges from extremely harmonious to reasonably contaminated, in either case filling the environment with a blend of resonant vibration and mild unease. The 135-copy special edition reviewed here, now sold out, comprises a bonus disc – Accretion – containing three beauties born from the reworking of the basic material yet sounding even more intense, to the point that this writer maintains a slight preference for the latter CD (though the sonic essence is exactly the same).
The electronic cloud that cuddles our nerves in everlasting stasis (repeat mode is obviously suggested) symbolizes the ideal practice for forgetting – at least momentarily – about any aching that might be trying to attack your determination in remaining balanced despite eventual negative circumstances. It is also a symbol of the fact that certain things remain unaltered, as one can still count on the earnestness of elected sculptors of hypnosis when all that’s needed is a couple of hours of mental peacefulness. Words aren’t contemplated when the explanations are given by morphing layers of waggling pulses, and this work offers plenty of that. Massimo Ricci

Above The Sky

Aquarius Records
Over the past few years, Darren Tate has been wandering into some wildly weird electronics, broadening the scope of his aesthetic beyond the seminal recordings he made with Andrew Chalk (amongst others) as Ora, and more recently through Monos. For the most part, Monos has been a collaborative project between Tate and Nurse With Wound engineer extraordinaire Colin Potter, but at other times, we're pretty sure that Tate is the only one behind the wheel. For Above The Sky, the Monos line-up includes Tate, Potter, and fellow British dronescraper Paul Bradley; and this record is a top notch, vintage sounding Monos disc for sure.
The extended pieces found on this album were culled from the one and only live Monos gig in 2006, the handful of recordings from that gig were processed, recreated, forgotten about, rediscovered, and processed again throughout various starts and stops over the next four years. The resulting album is surprisingly coherent, presenting itself as a sinewy mass of undulating drones dappled with various textures, shadowy events, field recordings, subtle instrumentation, and then some. The ghostly ambience that introduces this album is sublimely beautiful, like the druggy drones of Nurse With Wound (e.g. Soliloquy For Lilith) or the permafrost laden expanses of Thomas Koner or even a darker version of Leyland Kirby's much-lauded hauntological ambience. Distant sound elements of scraped metal echo to the foreground, as the latent sounds from some occluded ritual in some forgotten place. Shimmering acoustic clouds of resonance peel away into field recordings of numerous birds flitting about. Later on, semi-melodic phrases hover near the event horizon dominated by ominous electrical vibrations and dilated drone fields. Seriously, this is fantastic stuff! Jim Haynes.

Brainwashed
After a four-year hiatus, this slumbering drone supergroup has returned with a deeply unsettling and surreal new album.  That time was not spent idly, as Above The Sky sounds like it has been sculpted and tweaked to razor-sharp perfection.  Despite being the work of three people with three different aesthetics, there is no absolutely trace of ego, compromise, bloat, or wasted time here.  This is as perfect as drone music gets.
Above the Sky apparently had a very difficult birth, as it originated from a single concert that Paul Bradley, Colin Potter, and Darren Tate played together in 2006.  The trio wasn’t entirely pleased with the recording, so it was gradually embellished, enhanced, layered, and reworked until it finally became “A Place of Voices.”  In the process, quite a bit of new material was recorded, some of which cohered into the album’s closing piece.  The rest of it wound up as Beneath the Earth, a bonus album that sold-out very quickly.
Each of the two tracks included here is a half-hour long.  The first one, “A Place Of Voices,” begins with ominous, queasy droning.  As it progresses, the sound slowly undulates and swells while spectral creaks, scrapes and squeals flit about the shadows.  However, only the peripheral mindfuckery remains relatively constant, as the trio seamlessly drifts from one movement to another.  It flows quite beautifully, but it follows a very unpredictable course, as a cacophony of bowed metals can turn into a pleasant field recording of a flock of chirping birds within mere minutes (and does). 
The following piece, “Cloudless Day,” fades in with a shifting, quavering mass of subtly clashing notes and a harsh metallic shimmer.  The volume swells and drops unpredictably, heightening the deep sense of unease, and various elements begin to change dramatically until it graduates from “uneasy” to “harrowing.”  Then it all abruptly stops, only to begin again in a distant, murky new form.  After a while, that limps to a conclusion as well, but is soon replaced by a still more disquietingly hallucinatory phase that calls to mind a haunted hall of mirrors.  Ultimately, however, the birds reappear and it all ends on an unexpectedly calm note: the titular “cloudless day,” I suppose (but one that only appears after a trip through hell). 
Above the Sky is an album that is malevolently alive, as every single sound is active and holds the potential to morph into either something deeply ugly or an unexpected oasis of calm.  It is a constantly and mysteriously shifting sonic terrain that seethes with implied menace.  Repeat listens will certainly lessen the impact of the twists and surprises, but there is so much to absorb and appreciate that it won’t matter.  This is a brilliant and nightmarish masterpiece from start to finish.

Consumed

Touching Extremes
Always a delight receiving reports by Mr. Bradley, who over the years has been doing everything in his authority to contrast my pessimistic views about the growing ineptitude of the mass of droning amateurs affecting the world. The core of the matter is that we're not dealing with a dabbler but a serious composer, his choice of tinges and configurations - as shapeless as the latter may be - reflected into some of the most spellbinding electronic works of the last decade. At this particular juncture, we have two versions of the same idea: "Consumed" is in fact a double disc (DVDr/CDr), so that one can decide if exclusively benefit from the music or associating it to a pictorial content. Speaking of which, the images are as intangible as the related sonic matter, a series of blurred saturated colours with a few flashing lights contributing to the state of downright trance that wraps the watcher only moments after the start. Says Bradley: "the origin of the sounds and the concept behind creating them is ultimately unimportant for the listeners (…) who will create their own emotional responses". Exactly: while the sheer existence of those peaceful radiations - whose slightly modified stillness is a joy to the ears - is sufficient to file "Consumed" as an outstanding release per se, the practice of remaining stuck to our seat in stunned contemplation, looking transfixed at the screen as the vibrational currents flow, is perhaps preferable. The man doesn't know how to shoot a blank indeed. Massimo Ricci

Màs Memorias Extranjeras

Gaz-eta
On "Màs Memorias Extranjeras", sound artist Paul Bradley revisits his "Memorias Extranjeras" release from a couple years back. This is supposed to be the other side of the coin of the initial release upon which these sounds are based on. As Bradley put it, "On returning to Memorias Extranjeras (and to the Spanish city of Valencia), the foggy, dark somberness that punctuated the first CD had gone. A fundamental change had occurred in the 12 months between Memorias Extranjeras and Más Memorias Extranjeras and there was a desire to reflect this and re-work the piece to match this clearer change in perspective. The two releases are two sides of the same coin, one darker, more detached and the other, calmer and more open. Memories that had changed and warped, softened and melded together, the same experience revisited through different eyes." The edges are gone. The static is eased. The simple act of unyielding surprise has been thrown to the background. What Bradley has on offer within these 43 minutes are subtle drones, eerily laid out concoctions of metallic waves of static and a general atmosphere of calmness. It's not until the very end of the CD that we're thrown a few minutes of the street festival in Valencia. That's when we hear the drummers go wild along with the sounds of an ecstatic crowd in the street celebrate. To necessitate a state of continuity, what started as a calm piece, ends on a crest of an ocean wave like hum. Excellent release, proving it's always possible to go back in time to re-invent one's work. Tom Sekowski.

Touching Extremes
Presenting the second version of an album released about a year before would seem to be a wrong artistic choice. Furthermore, to add mystery to the puzzle, the first edition of "Mas memorias extranjeras" came out with the same cover of its predecessor, a move that could have been losing from a commercial point of view (I myself had thought about an error after opening the promo packet, and from what's found on the label's website the sleeve is now different - well done). Then you listen to the music, and - voila - this is one of the best Bradley records of the last years, in my opinion better than the previous episode. As it happened there, the author meshed his trademark dissonant-yet-caressing drones with location sources captured in the Valencia area (Spain). The difference lies in a more organic amalgam of the components: this time, voices and noises from the streets were somehow treated differently by the composer, who processed them in a way that almost results as ghostly, definitely incorporeal (except maybe the final section, where a marching band appears amidst the local clamour). The feel of mental absence, of suspension of the physical functions, is here rather evident. It all amounts to an outing that lovers of both drone-based soundscapes and static electronica-cum-field recordings should not leave unattended. Paul Bradley is one of the few artists in this zone who managed to create a personal style, soberness and introspection at the basis of the sense of achievement that his releases consistently guarantee. Massimo Ricci

Moraines II

Tokafi
A “best of both worlds”: Fuses Bradley’s equilibrium with Maggi’s unpredictability, collisions and confounding correlations.

When I was a small boy, more was definitely more: The longest pieces were the best and I expected (no, I demanded!) a lot of different things to happen musically while they lasted. As I grew up, I learned that this approach had all but died out after the 70s and that most contemporary artists instead constructed their pieces along different parameters, such as timbre, texture and mood. Maybe that is why “Moraines II” is making me feel young again.

The album effectively reintroduces arrangement and compositional imagination as creative factors by taking them to extremes. It is no mean feat and yet the two names printed on the cover almost warranted such an endeavour. Cria Cuervos, the musical alias of Eugenio Maggi, has brought back an element of suprise and confrontation into all-too often well-behaved and overly respectable genres like Sound Art and Musique Concrete, turning field recordings and atmospheres into surreal sonic landscapes. Paul Bradley, meanwhile, has effectively built a bipolar career, with one half of his releases exploring the polychromatic shadings of subtle harmonic movement and the other branching out into discreet microtonal explorations.

In many respects, “Moraines II” is very close to recent Bradley works like “Somatic” (on Con-V) or “Memorias Extranjeras” (on Alluvial), with its constantly morphing surfaces. On the other, it clearly expands on the idea of bizarre, living soundscapes explored on Cria Cuervos’ “Vor Feuerschlünden”. The collaboration is indeed a “best of both worlds”, as it (in)fuses Bradley’s equilibrium with Maggi’s unpredictability, collisions and confounding correlations. The regal sensation of drifting out of time and place has made way for a sensation of disorientation and dislocation, of revisiting places which seem familiar but which you can not quite identify.

This uplifting confusion is caused by the fact that every second of sound here has been meticulously composed, like a painter would refine even the frailest petals of the smallest flower on a gigantically sized canvas. The collossal 57-minute title track features several recordings of water, whose refreshing streams seem to brim, bustle and bubble through wonderfully natural riverbeds. As you zoom in on these supposed field recordings, though, it becomes apparent, that there are several sources running, flowing and dripping at the same time, creating an image that is somehow “too real” to be true.

Drones and environmental- or animal sounds engage in a similarly haunting symbiosis, with harmonic winds blowing through landscapes of tonal breathings. At first, these drones ebb away rather quickly, but as the piece progresses, their stays grow longer, their pulserate slackens and their expansive tendency increases. For minutes on end, they linger on the horizon like dark, glowing clouds, before gradually dissolving into vaporous dust again, making way for another cycle of billowing and decline.

At one point, all the duo does is frettlessly downtune their atmosphere to a deep, stortorous hum, which continues to linger and slowly shapeshift. It is this method of creating distinct musical scenes and of allowing new passages to organically grow from their soil, instead of merely seaguing different tracks, which recreates that classic feeling of wideness and borderless space.

Andrew Liles’ approach, meanwhile, documented here on his version of “Moraines” entitled “A Sisyphus Existence”, while at 16 minutes anything but concise and equipped with a mysterious Piano coda, works much more with repetition and gradual granular development, locking the listeners’ imagination in rather than setting it free. Both versions have their merits. But to me, there is only one which truly captures that magical sensation of feeling like a child again. By Tobias Fischer

Vital Weekly
About two years ago we reviewed 'Moraines', a collaboration between Paul Bradley and Eugenio Maggi, aka Cria Cuervos from Italy (see Vital 516). Since they have been working on 'Moraines II', or rather re-working the first one. Such can be the world of drone music. One drone - endless possibilities. The original recordings have been used, highly processed field recordings that is, and together they created quite a dark album of drone music. Rather than moving about in one single drone, this new piece moves along various paths, clearly divided into separate parts, each with it's own build up and changes, before moving to the next piece. Some clear field recordings punctuate the music, such as rain sounds, birds and footsteps. Perhaps nothing new, but the minor changes, such as the various parts approach, make this however quite a nice disc. Plus more treatments arrive through the work of Andrew Liles, who was given all the material and made a remix (a phrase we should not use for the first track). Liles has a distinct sound (well, as far as I know, as his output is vast and incomplete here) that is somewhat close to the more eerie Nurse With Wound sound. Here via the reverse sound approach, like a single wave washing ashore and a metallic drone rumble make up a creepy soundtrack to a perfect nightmare. Sounds arise from previous, and make this a more singleminded piece. Quite a nice one at that. (FdW)

Cede

Tokafi.com
There is a good reason why "I love you“, one of the most basic and important sentences in human history, has turned out so short: Some things amazingly get clearer, the less words one uses. The same applies to music, of course – and to a miniature like 'cede' in particular.
It might be peculiar to find such a statement applied to the work of Paul Bradley. Of course, the British Dronemaster, who is not half as prolific as some magazines are trying to make us believe and in fact appears a very critical judge of his own work, has always been a poet of minimalism: Give him a pencil and a simple sheet of paper and he'll move you with nothing but a few lines. But then again, his music always seemed to take its time to get the message across, especially so on his penultimate release „Somatic“ - which, as the press (this publication included) seemed to agree, made for a great summary of his oeuvre until now.
Not so on 'Cede', however. Admittedly, twenty minutes do not exactly meet the format requirements of public radio stations. And yet, they seem so clear, concise, compact and concentrated, that its effect is that of watching a blade of grass moving in the wind. The single track contained on this disc contrasts the deep sigh of the bradley-trademark bass drone with organ-like perturbations in the upper register and sharper-edged echoes. Occasionally, the harmonies bend towards dissonance and dark desire, towards conflict and chaos. But it's only in the distance, where waves of quietude break at the cliffs of night.
More than ever, it becomes apparent that a complete stillstand can only occur musically, if all elements are in constant motion. Bradley has used less ingredients for this pieces than on most previous occasions, which were all characterised by a sense of undulation. Now that movement has been superimposed by countermotives, it has suddenly come to a halt. While something is always happening throughout its duration 'cede' has reached the point of perfect silence.
The only thing which will probably prove itself impossible is translating the music back into the realm of language. On the other hand, this will hardly be necessary. Once you've grasped what 'Cede' is about, you will know its message is beyond words. By Tobias Fischer

Somatic

Touching Extremes
This is one of those sonic sculptors whom I’ve always felt as totally honest even if he moves in a musical jungle where getting trapped by the quicksand of banality is fairly easy. To have an idea of Paul’s efforts to avoid such deplorable methods (which usually go “buy me the latest synthesizer, change a wave shape in the 01 preset, supplement with heavy reverberation, burn 100 CDRs and sell them”), just think that I realized about the exclusive use of guitars in (several of his) records only after the man himself told me. They were more or less unidentifiable to my ears, the ones of a guitarist…That should tell a lot (OK, who whispered “about you”?). In recent times, Bradley has added field recordings and different sources to the music yet the beauty of these presentations remains intact, “Somatic” fully reinforcing the theory. The basis for this long track, roughly divided into three movements, are environmental elements from Spain and Turkey, voice, other instruments and various manipulated objects. Bradley processed the main origins fusing the results in his customary brew of resonant drones and entrancing aural depictions, this time reinforced and complemented by those “extraneous” interferences from the real life that do nothing but add a touch of vividness to an already beguiling soundscape. Particular relevance must be attributed to the third and final section where, from a mournful female chant, a transcendent state of stupor based on a harmonically suspended chord takes shape to wrap our crumbling security in the cocoon of an apparent comfortableness, which fizzles out as soon as the record’s over. One of the very best releases in this English artist’s prolific career. Massimo Ricci.

Tokafi.com
The handshake between Paul Bradley and Miguel A. Tolosa was an obvious one in a certain sense. Both artists share a love for pure drones and for deep, smooth textures undulating through the filter modulations of an invisible hand, as well as a similar sense of dreamtime development. When Tolosa released “spectra” on Bradley*s “Twenty Hertz” imprint, therefore, this mainly went to emphasise the closeness of their approaches, despite the obviously diverging methods of arranging their material.
The story with “Somatic” is a different one, however, as it proves that they still have a lot to give to each other artistically  and that their styles are strongly susceptible for mutual pollination.
Having said that, the album opens with what constitutes the most classic Bradley-drone we’ve heard from him in a while after he broke his music into colourful shardes of glass on “memorias extranjeras” and lent warm earth tones to it on “Chroma”. For over twenty minutes, a gently piercing, serenely tranquil harmony hovers in the air, transformed only in frequency, stoic and static in its timbre and its direction. There are certainly few other composers out there who can turn the absolute lack of external development into such a breathtaking and majestic experience as Bradley.
This is not where the track ends, however, as the sequence is continually penetrated by fireplace crackles, delicately howling winds and airy whispers as well as a cello playing in a barely audible, high-pitched flageolet. After a stretch of silence, which he uses to both calm things down and to further increase the tension, he then builds the piece in reverse order, beginning with irrecognisable field recordings moulded into ghostly ambiances and then allowing soothing drones in again for a hymnic finale.
Once again, the dichotomy between that which scareth and that which healeth is a red thread. Bradley’s music is so reduced to the most elemental paremeters, that it approximates a force of nature in its own right. And just like a storm can both be a beautiful and a terrible thing to taste, his fearful fen lights, sonic aurora borealis and glistening waters take the ear to places it recognises as deformed Jung’ean archetypes.
Also, his continuing, and often overlooked, efforts to bring structure to a world deemed amorphic have left a mark on “Somatic”. Because these harmonic sheets and non-descriptive, concrete sounds are miles from traditional concepts of themes, motives and variations, the mind assumes they can not be combined into epic compositions with non-linear narratives, but a clear sense of coherence. And yet Bradley manages just that, he creates the sensation of closedness by careful selection of his source material and clever seguing.
The inclusion of microtonal particles and of spontaneously taped semblances clearly sets “Somatic” apart from anything he’s previously done. The drones soar even higher, reverberate even deeper thanks to the contrasting middle section and the piece as a whole is more provocative, associative and even disturbing.
For once, one finds oneself in an unsettling situation with Paul Bradley, instead of being allowed to drift in his hot bath tub. And maybe we have to thank the artistic alliance with Migual A. Tolosa, on whose Con-V label this is published, for that. By Tobias Fischer

Wonderful Wooden Reasons
This beautifully packaged CDR on the predominantly web-based label Con-V is the latest in a string of fine releases from Paul Bradley.  This is new(ish) territory for Paul as the delicate wash of his tonal pallette is here augmented by layers of grimy and gritty field recordings.  The whole feels significantly less 'airy' than is often the case with a much more textural and tactile quality.  Here it seems that the intention of the music is to bypass any somnolent ambient characteristics inherent in the drones by the inclusion of elements (both sonic and structural) that, almost, forcibly engage the listener.  One is compelled to stay alert to the flow of the music unable to divert one's attention from this fascinating construction even if one should be so asinine as to actually want to.

Earlabs
The imageless, unadorned, white cardboard slipcase that houses Somatic coupled with the initial placid, iridescent drone, give some idea as to why the early working titles of the album were “without eyes” and “without image”.

It's always exciting to me when Conv releases a new limited edition CD-R, because I know that I can expect only the best in experimental sound art. Paul Bradley's new release is no exception, and it's a welcome addition to the label's steadily growing discography of excellent CD-R releases.

The liner notes sum up Somatic quite accurately describing it as a blend of “abstracted phonography” and “melodic instrumental movements” where the focus is on the “act of listening” encouraging the listener to “create their own unique interpretations”. The obvious evidence of field recordings and melodious instrumentation in the piece give the composition its “earthy quality”, however, there are moments when the heavy processing/manipulation of these natural noises carry it to such a level of abstraction that the source sounds become disembodied remnants of the originals.

Somatic appears to have three movements within its extended duration (47:03) all born of field recordings, manipulated sounds, and various musical instruments. The first movement (up to about 19:00) is a continuous, shimmering, harmonious drone of viscous tones on top of which a variety of aural textures are carefully added. Random slivers of static and crackles along with recurring wisps of fizzy noise gradually find their way into the droning piece followed later by fragments of choral-like voices. Part 1 ends as the wavering, pleasant drone fades and transistions into a rather lengthy muted cacophony of dense instrumentation which shortly evolves into a thick, sometimes bubbling, mesh of abstract sounds ranging from relatively subdued to quite raucous (19:00 - 32:39). At 32:40, the abstract harshness abruptly ends and gentle, haunting voices arrive paving the way for a final round of a series of beautiful, deep, resonant drones.

All in all, Somatic offers a powerful fusion of organic ambiance with manipulated sounds that will appeal to lovers of either the concrete or abstract varieties of sound art allowing each to fashion his/her own understanding of the piece. Larry Johnson

Vital Weekly
After playing music all day, at night I want to sleep and I don't need music while I'm asleep. I am not sure if Paul Bradley's 'Somatic' release is intended for use while awake or asleep. But safe to say I heard it when I was firmly awake (well, I think). Maybe it refers to the point of day when it was recorded, or it uses field recordings taped at night? We are not told. Bradley is one of the drone masters from the UK, with a long line of releases behind his name, mainly on his own Twenty Hertz label, but also on Mystery Sea and Alluvial. I think he's well aware of the traps of drone music and that he's not so keen on producing works that may sound too similar. Thumbs up for that. The backbone of this piece is of course the mighty drone, organ like (but apparently cello, voice and objects are used), fed to a resonator or two, to get a variety of pitches. On top there is some sort of rain fall sounds, which are very much on top of things, giving a nice crackling sound, which is what breaks this away from the normal drone routine. The other, if partly only, difference is that Bradley works through three distinctly different passages. It makes a great release. Changes or progression in drone might not be easy, but it's possible. (FdW)

searching for the way

Touching Extremes
This gentleman couldn't release bad records if we paid him. His new contribution to The Locus Of is a serene meditation for stratified cirri of static sounds, in all probability derived by heavily processed guitars (the man is always ready to surprise me, though). A whole slide show of oneiric atmospheres, halfway through conscious modulations between clustery dissonance and gradual openings towards constantly expanding galaxies typical of the best space music, if this definition still carries some weight. We're left suspended mid-air ever since the very first moments of the track, and never brought down until the end; the last few minutes are instead used by the author to subtract certain frequencies to the wall of stringed amorphousness, so that the aural shapes get beautifully similar to the engrossing droning of Andrew Chalk and Mirror, that place where the word "harmony" assumes the most important of meanings. There's not much more to be said, besides inviting you to add this little pearl to your personal Bradley necklace. Massimo Ricci.

Wonderful Wooden Reasons
Paul's previous contribution to LoA's  3" CDR series (Immure) was a sublime melange of gongs and translucent tones. This time out Paul uses surging crescendos to propel the choral-esque tones and slicing shards of electronics straight to the centre of your attention.  In place of the pervasive ethereal quality that is his calling card there is a solidity and physicality to the sounds used that hasn't often been apparent in Bradley's solo music making this a very fine addition to an already impressive discography.

Vital Weekly
Titles might be deceiving, so I am merely guessing with 'Searching For The Way' by Paul Bradley, but might he be searching for the way to different kinds of music, or perhaps a renewal of the drone idiom? If we listen to the track of the same name, we might very well think so. The work is louder, more present than much of his previous work, and it seems to me, more based on digital synthesizers, unlike his previous work which were based more on highly processed field recordings. Quite a cosmic piece, this 'Searching For The Way', in some ways a break with his own past, but in some other ways, the long duration of ambient music, it perfectly stands in the tradition of German cosmic music (less arpeggios of course) and makes a highly atmospheric track of a more present and pressing nature. Quite nice. (FdW)

Chroma

Furthernoise
Abstract experimental music, unlike most varieties, doesn’t do anything so obvious as to represent directly something in a world outside itself. But it usually contains at least some veiled gesture towards a potential object to connect to. What to make of a stream of soft-edged tonal material gradually mounting in pitch and frequency? Might it not suggest, for example, the sun’s emergence from below the horizon into the lightening sky? But the sound needs something else – a signpost, a cue – to help find its meaning-socket. An experimental musician whose work has often been reticent in this respect is Paul Bradley. It doesn’t ostensibly seem to be ‘about’ much else other than itself. You could say it’s audio-documentary of his reflections on the nature of sound. Fine’n’dandy, but... Is that all there is?

No. There’s more. Only connect. The ombrous wispy cover image of his new release may not be giving much away, but that Chroma... is talking colour. Bingo. Immediately suggestive for Bradley’s work, and once colour co-ordinated, these spacious washes relieved by pointillist shadings and wisps of light are illuminated in earthy browns, glassine greens, and glimmering yellows. These seven short to medium-length compositions made with e-bow guitar as source, stretched out and spangled by processing, are variously hued. Colour them how you hear them, then go from there. Opening movements propose extended undulations of low-to-medium-end pillowed tones with minimal (but crucial) timbral variation flirting comfortably with a major key. #3 feels like a warmer more engaged variant on these openings, bringing out overtones and harmonics into a gorgeous wooze. #4 seems to further elaborate the compositional structure – that of variable recursions of drawn-out loops periodically flecked, layering more crystalline loop strata and intensifying reverberation into a near-blissed out pastoral drone-symphony.

Overall, Bradley’s strategies are deliberately minimal and homogenous. Like a writer who’s written 20 short novels all in roughly similar style, he doesn’t dissipate his energies experimenting with different voices. An experimentalist, but with a voice more musically conventional than, say, the liminal noise-phantoms of a Günter or López, but less overbearing than the stern sonorities of kindred like Coleclough or Monos, he seems to have found his niche with a signature droning style embracing both crepuscular and twinkling variations on a theme. And when most emanations from England’s subterranean drone collective seem to rejoice in finding ever more inky depths to plumb, it’s refreshing to encounter such a spirited assemblage. Denying the downcast, it seems to look up towards some sort of inchoate “beyond” – sounds pushing up and out as if to efface all but a trace of materiality, and become pure colour float. The closing #7 seems to will itself into the realms of space, less of this earth, rotating with a sense of endlessness while churning within. You might even find it inspiring, representing something existential – a reflection of what some of us may aspire to do in seeking to make a life less ordinary. Only connect. Alan Lockett

Cyclic Defrost Magazine
Sonic choreographer Paul Bradley directs a slow motion waterfall of sound on Chroma, his seventh release in the last year. Both vivid and subtle, the maelstrom of sound disguises rather precise coordination of attacks, which evoke very strong emotional and aesthetic responses in the listener. In fact, in comparison to previous efforts, Chroma, as a sonic analogue of a kaleidoscope, as a lovely play of tonally moving forms colored autumnal yellows and glass bottle-green’s, is one of Bradley’s most simple, altogether accessible statements so far.

Indeed, the colors, as simple qualities, manage to provide pure sensuous pleasures over the course of the work. The recording consists of seven short compositions, where Bradley conjures dream-tangled nightscapes in which synthesizers, used sparingly and effectively, supplement the ebow’s expressive range, and heighten the mood through harmonic coloration. It’s gentle and plaintive music mostly, carefully paced, and tenderly crafted. Unencumbered by a need to hallucinate, to transport the listener into a delusional temporal continuum, these drones calmly yet mysteriously rise out of one pool of silence and disappear into another, along the way, passing through subtle modalities of change and dynamic processes of particle synthesis.

Specifically, track two sketches smoothly oscillating scenes that arrange delicate textures within swaying tonal passages while others, such as track six, are less airy and open, more grounded, pastoral even, with minimal repetitions expanding and contracting across a frequency spectrum, slowly building an endless breath-like quality. Certain compostions go so far as to enjoy themselves, freeing the listener up to simply relax. More than a fine play of sensations, though, Chroma maintains structure, and expresses a deep ineffable content such that certain moments seem touched with a tincture of the sublime. Max Schaefer

Tokafi.com
Whatever your exact translation of the term “chroma” may be, it always has to do with colours. Which makes it a perfect match for the music of Paul Bradley, whose pure and spaceous dronescapes have always made it easy to draw parallels to the visual world and to painting. Even more than with any of his previous albums, however, it is almost perfectly spent on this, his seventh effort as a solo artist, as it sees Bradley noticeably expanding his palette of aural timbres.

The sounds are definitely more airy and open, the moods lighter and more permeable and the tonal colours more earthly grounded than ever before: Warm brown, yellow and clay shades contrast with the familiar liquid blue one has come to appreciate from preceeding works and while there are still moments of scantness and alienation, the general ambiance is inviting and friendly. Much more than an intellectual or conceptual swing, “chroma” comes across as a summer-fantasy by an Englishman, dreamed up by pot after pot of strong black tea and watching the wet streets from behind curtains of rain. This impression is solidified by the fact that Bradley’s compositions are still made up of only a few distinct elements and rely on gentle modulations and even complete stasis instead of forced changes and shocking surprises. And still, this record does sound different from anything he has done, if only for the fact that it is divided into seven short to medium length segments, including one and a half minute scenes and only just extending into the ten-minute range on the somewhat more stretched-out cuts. The different parts actually enhance the otherwordly and timeless nature of the music. As if watching a highway glowing in the burning sun, the flickering heat radiated by these tracks turns into a sensation of its own, morphing and loosing its form, yet bringing forth temporary concrete forms and kind showers of light. If anything, the result is even more loveable, a warm oasis where you can lay your worries to rest and enjoy the beauty of the moment.

The more diversified nature of the material creates a fluctuacting space and a movement absent from most of Paul Bradley’s other releases, yet its webs are maybe even more fragile, suggesting they ought not to be disturbed. This music is ideal for situations of unhurried solitude and for concentrated creative working - such as painting, for example. Tobias Fischer

Touching Extremes April 07
Sometimes it's good to know that the music we're going to listen to won't surprise us, especially when sure that it will enable our nerves to lighten up the tension and our body to fluctuate in crossing currents of stimulating waves and heartrending drones. "Chroma" continues to report about Paul Bradley's voyage through the spheres of electric/electronic prayer; no indications are given about the instrumentation - as always with this soundscaper - but I'm willing to guess that, besides synthesizers, a dose of bowed strings is in there. The seven movements are among the best things that I heard from the English composer, symbols of an otherwordly contemplation whose intense radiance puts our vital functions in standby mode, as we're left suspended in amazement and stirring emotion. The consecutive wonders of the third and fourth parts are a metaphorical representation of the perfection and the self-centering to which human beings should ideally aspire to; then it's all the more annoying that, once we're brought back to senses after the record's over, we must start again from square one, dealing with delusional individuals and overboard physical specimens whose presence is nothing but disturbing and debilitating. Massimo Ricci.

The Wire April 2007 - Outer Limits
His seventh release in less than a year, Chroma is another stately album of strung-out vibrations from British drone artist Paul Bradley. E-bowed guitar is central to this album, which emerges on the first couple of movements as deep ripples of low-end frequencies exposing their source material through slow rotation of several phase patterns that could only be made by guitar. About halfway through the album, Bradley moves away from these Isolationist references through a pastoral set of brightly toned ambience. Here, the structural nature of Bradley's work becomes more apparent, as he composes through variable repetitions of elongated loops pocked with the odd effervescent flourish. Jim Haynes

Chain D.LK.
More angelic soundscapes from UK artist Paul Bradley, by now an established name in the drone niche. Clocking in at 45 minutes, the seven tracks of "Chroma" follow the wake of previous melodic releases of his like "Anamnesis", "Liquid Sunset" or "Sketches from Dust", with huge tapestries of melancholic guitar-generated drones. This is Bradley in his purest and, if the adjective can be rightly used, optimistic incarnation; fans of his production will surely rejoice. Eugenio Maggi

Wonderful Wooden Reasons
The latest release from UK drone musician Paul Bradley sees him embracing a slightly more ambient sound than had previously been apparent although Bradley's take on the genre is very much his own. Working from what seems like a, not limited but, concise palette Bradley paints an ambient landscape of subtle tones and shades. His drones are steely and forceful, they are electric and magnetic with the ozone aftertaste of a lightning storm. Like the best ambient music Chroma is never overpowering or intrusive it simply is. Ian Holloway

Pastandpresentcollide

Vital Weekly 553
Paul Bradley, who presents his latest solo work 'Pastandpresentcollide' (what is that a lot of things are written as one word these days?). Bradley is one of the more active drone meisters, with many releases on his own Twenty Hertz label and his various collaborative releases, such as with Darren Tate, makes him the fastest rising star on the firmament. Although not in league with say Merzbow, release-wise, there is a certain risk of over production. In itself drone music, and certainly the area in which we find Bradley, is already a bit of a dead end, so it would not be a bad idea to broaden the horizon. On the previous Bradley release 'Memorias Extranjeras' (see Vital Weekly 523) he already had some unprocessed field recordings as part of his soundscape, so it might be expanding slowly. Throughout this new piece (like per usual, Bradley offers one piece per release), there is faint trace of children singing, but that's about the extent as where we hear the 'real' field recordings. But for perhaps 95% this is all in the deep underworld of drone music. Slowly humming about, with deep bass sounds, and a bit organ like sounds towards the end, this is an absolutely beautiful piece. Let there be no mistake about it. However, at the same time, we should also note that is doesn't differ that much from his previous work, which is a pity, since there is already quite some work available from him. If this would be your first encounter, you could easily think that's great, but as a diehard fan, you could probably do with a slight change in the menu. (FdW) www.vitalweekly.net

Sketches from Dust

Aquarius Records
Taking a cue from fellow British drone alchemist Andrew Chalk, Paul Bradley offers an elegant miasma of elongated tones from guitar and piano, the latter of which was contributed by Current 93's Maja Elliott. The overall feel of Sketches From Dust is thoroughly amorphous in its strategy for a pure ambience (in keeping true to the Brian Eno ethos of such early masterpieces as On Land and Thursday Afternoon). After stretching the timbral monochrome from piano and guitar into a shimmering chorale, Bradley gingerly places these sounds in a loosened compositional framework that shares some similarities to how Mr. Chalk arranged his abstracted piano on Blue Eyes Of The March. On occasion, Bradley allows for clusters of Elliott's piano to flicker within the freefloating drone breathing with the quality of billowing clouds and transient early morning fog whose refracted light through water vapor makes everything obfuscated and luminous at the same time. Very nicely done.

Memorias Extranjeras

Gaz-eta
Paul Bradley who runs the Twenty Hertz label/collective is a busy guy. Recent releases have been abundant on his own label. His latest project "Memorias extranjeras" is a field recording based on a festival in Valencia, Spain that was in turn morphed into a 40 minute drone recording. Glimpses of festival are in fact few, which is a bit of a shame, but this was never the purpose of the record. Rather, Bradley wanted to take source recordings and simply use them as a starting point for the drone-fest that follows. Sure, we have minute glimpses of fireworks exploding, people cheering and clapping, crowd noise and what sounds like real life explosions of some type but that's not the core of the record. The feast occurs in the flow of the mid-bass drone that follows the piece from beginning to end. Fairly steady, slow to mid-tempo drone is actually pleasant to the ears. Mid- way through the record, drone changes to a guitar-like sound that may have been recorded inside of a large, empty cathedral. Not sure how to describe the drones here, other than to say that they're reminiscent of a semi- metallic spiral at one point, while in a different point, they're more like a hollowed-out, ominous call of doom. Perfectly paced and realized with a lot of afterthought and balance, this is one record that allows the mixture of field recordings and drones to flow freely. Tom Sekowski www.gaz-eta.vivo.pl

Tokafi.com
Bang! Just when you thought you had settled in, your senses are warped into a state of emergency, there is a sudden rush of blood to the head, your heart starts beating furiously and you can feel your pulse in your jugular. For all those, who thought they knew Paul Bradley and had come to expect yet another work of deep, brooding, meditative and transcendentally comforting drones, the time has come to think again.
Not, because there are none of those on this album. But instead of the undisrupted flow and smooth transitions of previous efforts, “Memorias Extranjeras” presents the listener with a colourful collection of snap shots, each one with a different mood and intensity. Of course, the old Bradley is still very much present in many of the seperate episodes, especially when he operates in the lower regions of the sonic spectrum and treats the listener to physically powerful, subcutaneous layers of bass vibrations, which set both mind and body in motion. There are plenty of those here, but on top of that, there are also sweeling and decongesting harmonics, almost indian flavoured passages reminscent of a long-drawn sitar tone, field recordings of people talking and of foreworks being ignited, as well as (a real premiere in Bradley’s oeuvre!) rhythms. The latter light up the aural scenery at the very beginning, covering the fanned-out opening drone, only to disappear again in an instant of a second. Like a ghostly galley ship on an endless ocean, the 40-minute long composition sails through banks of mist, allowing only a faint glimps of what is to come and merely a distant memory of the past. The cooling spray touches your face and the wind caresses your hair like an invisible hand, as you gaze at what’s in front of you. And all around you, on a grey, but everlasting horizon, a wordless world slowly unfolds.
And then, just when you thought you had settled in, brutal noises set in and a frenzy of distorted voices and explosions shakes you up and brings your body back to the real world. There are more of these surprising moments on “Memorias Extranjeras” and they keep the mind in a transient state between waking alertly and sleeping peacefully. After a string of almost perfect drone releases, this is a step into a new direction for Paul Bradley. A most welcome one, as we might add. By Tobias Fischer tokafi.com

Moraines

Connexion Bizarre
Paul Bradley and Cría Cuervos conspire to accelerate the fabric of time itself with their collaborative work, "Moraines." It is an extensive ambient piece, and begins with such quiet subtlety it found me double-checking the speakers for a minute or two before I decided that indeed, there was a track playing. Forty-six minutes and unknown ages later, "Moraines" had transformed a tapestry of sibilant drones and harmonic hums into an acoustic time machine, dialed to the late Pleistocene.
A moraine is an accumulation of boulders, stones, or other debris carried and deposited by a glacier. Paul Bradley and Cría Cuervos have either created the very music by which to watch glaciers, or a soundtrack in which the ghosts of ice flows passed are revisited at a glacial pace. The listener is transported to a sparse land of grey earth and windswept vegetation, where cycles of climate and erosion have remade vistas time and again. From vantage atop a small ridge - amassed in the wake of a glacier many thousands of years before - hints at booming undercurrents rise to the listener's ears through uncharted meters of long-forgotten ice.
"Moraines" is a system of deposits; a complex sediment of sounds. In its beginning, the haunting echoes of falling stones scatter through lulling white noise, like unseen things rustling in dark crevices. The piece gradually shifts toward more harmonic tones and builds intensity with hissing crescendos reminiscent of trapped air escaping through widening cracks. Finally, after more than thirty minutes have passed, the collaborators usher in thawing ice and sounds of trickling, seeping and gurgling water. At the static-filled culmination of "Moraines," waking life - buzzing insects and restless amphibians, perhaps - gathers in the slowly warming pools and scrub where glaciers once enthralled the land. Sandswept [7.5/10]. connexionbizarre.net

Op.5 / Heart Of Embra

Touching Extremes
There are times in which I silently damn the small format CDs like this very one, especially when the music they contain stands on such a level of excellence. "Op.5" by Wells is a haunting piece made of ethereal droning and economy of movement; imagine David Jackman's buzzsaw metal resonance after a Valium treatment submerged by the shadows of nocturnal sensitiveness during ten minutes of pure bliss. Bradley confirms with "Heart of Embra" his current magic moment with an atypical (for him) scheme-free acousmatic presentation of forms, pictures, drones and found sounds, at times slightly blemished by a little hiss and distortion, while the scenery changes quite frequently, with talking people and room/external noise acting as a counterbalance to Paul's customary slow spirals. Both compositions are a short lesson in attentive listening, making an eventual full-length album of similar materials quite desirable.

Liquid Sunset

Tokafi
Ceremonial and solemn: Nothing can be added to this music, nothing can be substracted.

Time distortion may be an unpleasant sensation in everyday life, but with Paul Bradley it is an important aspect of the unique allure of his music. While having virtually nothing “happen” on your albums is an insult to some, it is a virtue to him and even though there may be even more minimalist drone composers out there, Bradley has found a way to walk the invisible border line between almost inaudible breathings and deep, sonorous and emotional frequencies. “Liquid Sunset” is a good example for his approach and shows why many in the scene envy him for his craftsmanship – and why, despite the perfection he has achieved, his art remains by no means without controversy.

The criticism, which occasionally rears its head, mostly has to do with the shirt-sleeve mentality of some journalists, who insist on an artist having to struggle to find his own language and to wade through years of failure and rejection, before discovering his true calling. Bradley, however, has been embraced by fans of the genre right from the very first instance he set foot in it. Already his debut album bathed in pure primordial soup, the matter from which all of his later works would draw their inspiration. Nothing could be added to this music, nothing could be subtracted. Suddenly, out of the blue, there it was and if it had been created by an 80-year old Nepalese monk after a lifetime experimenting with singing bowls and overtone chant, the press would have been ecstatic. As it is, Bradley lives and breathes in the UK and does not express his intuitive stance towards composing in haiku form, but in quotes like “I can appreciate a fine-looking woman without knowing how the nervous system works or a glass of beer without knowing how it was brewed.” The perfection he attained so early on in his career has also implied that his subsequent releases have not “pushed” the limit any further, but merely lit the scene from a different angle. On the other hand, do we really need this man to go against the grain to appreciate his music? If you take the pureness, simplicity and deepness of an album like “Liquid Sunset”, it would certainly seem like a brutal intrusion. On the first part of the journey, Bradley segues different segments together by means of silence or minimalistic field recordings (a small camp fire? crackling paper?), each one similar, but with enough characteristics of its own to mark a new mood, a new space and a new opportunity to get lost entirely. Part two is sort of a short annex to the ceremonial and solemn opening, but it could just as well have been its ending. Pensive bass drones scour the floor of the ocean, while the fluorescent headlights of bizarrely morphed ghost fishs mill short tunnels into a world of absolute darkness. Filter knobs turn and twist by their own accord, the world curves and undulates and everything looses its necessity.

When I first listened to “Liquid Sunset”, I estimated its running time at about 25-minutes. As it turned out, it was double that length, with the majestic “part one” clocking in at a vast 46 minutes. Such is the power of Bradley’s music, which uses its slow motion to catch the listener in an opium-atmosphered soap bubble drifting in a time gap between dawn and sunset. As to the repetitive nature of his CDs, one might add that watching him refine his vision is still any inch as fascinating as observing others trying to cover supposedly new ground. By Tobias Fischer

ChainDLK
Bradley is tirelessly putting out new releases, and, when the quality is this high, prolificacy is welcome. His new full length, "Liquid Sunset", is probably one of his best solo releases: indeed its two parts remind of his most abstract guitar-based works, like "Sepulchral" or the first Dronework, but with the more serene and airy feel that was already present in "Anamnesis". The guitar inputs are thus transformed into warm floating clouds of sound, slowly lulling the listener - perfect evening soundscapes, just like the title evokes. And besides the inherent beauty of the work, one notices Bradley's increasing mastery of the tools of trade, as his releases keep getting more and more refined. 4 out of 5 stars Eugenio Maggi. chaindlk.com

The Wire February 2006 - Outer Limits
Within Liquid Sunset, the British drone artist Paul Bradley has lifted a page from the Mirror handbook for longform impressionist compositions. The now defunct project between Andrew Chalk and Christoph Heemann had demonstrated a majestic beauty in radically stripping away non-essential elements to their dronescaping. Bradley's work adopts a very similar methodology as he expands field recordings into slow moving undulations of monochromatic sound. Given the high standards set by the Mirror template, Bradley does well to flatten his synthetic ambience into turgid ooze. His crepuscular drifts fade to silence almost inexplicably on several occasions, temporarily giving way to quietly crunched detail of rain or possible cracking leaves. Such detours in the continuity of his sunset serve to add a shroud of mystery to this wholly meditative album. Jim Haynes thewire.co.uk

Sophia Drifts

Vital Weekly 496
In a relatively short time, Paul Bradley has become a household name in the world of drone music, mainly through the various releases on his own Twenty Hertz, but also his collaborations with people such as Colin Potter and Darren Tate (the latter being on Plinkity Plonk). Such activities don't go unnoticed, and therefore Bradley is now signed (ho-hum, merely joking here) for an one-off deal with Mystery Sea - the other mainstay in the world of drone music. In the past I wrote about his work that it involved a bunch of analogue synthesizers, but Bradley assured me that there is no such thing. Principally he works with field recordings and computer processing. He could have fooled me. In 'Sophia Drifts', the material indeed drifts, in long, slow, majestically moving grace. Deep atmospheric, but there is half way through the piece the addition some sounds from the higher frequency range. It's here when the piece comes truly alive in a beautiful shimmering tones, not unlike the best Organum from his early days. In terms of new directions in drone music, this is not the place to be, but in terms of quality in drone music, this is surely one to remember. (FdW)

Tokafi.com
Most of the time, a piece of art will slowly come into being. Switching over from the world of ideas and from a state of infiniteness, it will materialise and take a definite shape in the hands of a painter, sculptor, writer or composer. Sometimes, however, a piece of music will simply “be” there. Suddenly a note can be heard, a chord is struck or a sound emerges from the depths of your PCs memory chips and there is nothing which needs to be added anymore. That’s what “Sophia drifts” sounds like.

Set out to emphasize the “now”, this is indeed an album which rests in itself, travelling at the speed of your watches’s hour hand in slow motion. Yet move it does and there’s not a moment that goes by without the distinct notion that time is progressing, both inexorably and compassionately. A darkly shimmering diamond sun pulsates at the heart of “Sophia”, while a high-frequency breeze cooling its heated surface. Emenating from the void, it slowly grows into its destined form and simply continues from there on, merely allowing in some crackling and fissling as well as some subterranean water gurgling. Most comparable pieces use volume to create expansion, but Bradley chooses to explore the concept of thematical contraction instead – tiny musical motives come up and are unfathomably sped up. While their cycles become ever more closely intertwined, the listener’s mind starts to glide frictionlessly, like a silent figure skater on a moonlit sea in winter. Finally, the piece falls back into the sea of mystery and myriad opportunities, this time with a sense of thankful acceptance. Or maybe with an entirely different feeling, depending on your disposition: What has happened between pushing the “play” button and the return of the laser to its intial position can not be described by a summary of its content, nor by the time which has passed.

“Sophia drifts” has become something of a silent classic, one of those works that you read about empatically on those tiny, but loveable web spaces, far away from the frenzy of the magazine market and the daily media. It deserves to be: A whole life seems to be comprised in this single composition and it takes you to all the places it has been and to all the faces it has seen. Sometimes that is all you need to be happy. Tobias Fischer tokafi.com

Anamnesis

Vital Weekly
Number 477
Rapidly Paul Bradley is developing himself into the worlds most active producer of dark ambient drone music. 'Anamnesis' is his latest work, a professionally packed CDR release (full colour cover, print on CDR), with three pieces of some of the darkest drones around. Especially the first two pieces, 'Rüya' and 'Irenic' are slow majestically moving beasts of unearthly rumbles. Hard to tell, as always whether this a bunch of analogue synths on an oceanic drift or processed field recordings - perhaps a combination of both is the most likely thing. 'Anterior', the final piece on this set starts out way beyond the threshold of hearing and takes a long, almost Francisco Lopez time to built up from this way below sound until something becomes audible. Shimmering small sounds, morse code like sounds arise from this cloud of sound and sets this piece, both in build up and use of sounds from the rest. Maybe this is a new path in Bradley's work? (FdW) http://www.staalplaat.com/vital/

anoxia

Chain DLK
Coming in an exquisitely designed dvd case, this single track, 38-minute work is the result of the mail collaboration of US musician Adam Sonderberg (of Dropp Ensemble and Civil War fame) and UK drone expert Paul Bradley, which should be well known to ChainDLK readers by now. Not much information is given on how the project developed, except that the former sent sound sources which were altered and mixed by the latter. Once again (as heard on his works with Darren Tate and Monos), Bradley reveals his amazing ability and taste for flowing, detailed soundscapes. As suggested by the title, "Anoxia" is a brooding, sombre experience. The initial sources (guitars? strings? field recordings?) are stretched and manipulated into fibres, shades, drops of sounds: any detail is widened until it becomes blurred and unrecognizable. As the piece progresses, the deep reverberating drones make it sound more and more like a dirge. Think of Mirror's hypnotic live sets and turn the already scarce light out. 4 Stars out of 5. Eugenio Maggi chaindlk.com

Live

Vital Weekly
Number 467
Two label bosses meet up: Paul Bradley (of Twenty Hertz) and Colin Potter (of ICR). They have two lengthy recordings from 2004 of their version of drone music. Bradley plays laptop and Potter is a wizard on the use of soundeffects. At least that's what I think. Bradley feeds his sounds into the machines of Potter and together they wave a fine pattern of dark and atmospheric sounds, in which the second piece is a little bit more hectic and slightly more disorganised, but nevertheless is still a fine piece of drone music. With these two guys being at the forefront of this kind of music in the UK, one could hardly go wrong. It is however interesting to see that they are capable of producing this kind of music with the same high standard in a live situation. They can indeed. (FdW) http://www.staalplaat.com/vital/

The Brainwashed Brain
V08I18 - 05082005
There is now a live document of this duo that actually rivals their studio output. Two live recordings from October and November of 2004 compose this record; both have the timeless feel that Potter and Bradley's music almost always has, but now the live environment is transformative, cohesive, and wholly coherent. Both recordings center around a metallic center that floats, sometimes soundlessly, through every shift and turn. Haphazard sounds often leap and stutter in perfectly flawed ways, unannounced, but appropriately and not without a certain dynamic effect. Listening to the November recording, I'm struck by the sound of rainfall, giant caverns, low mist hissing like a snake, and the images of monstrous architecture long forgotten populate every hollow shuffle of electronic vibration. I'm tempted to say that Potter and Bradley went somewhat psychedelic that day, their time-laped sound photography catching all manner paranormal phenomenon and, in a lot of ways, it is hard to escape that idea. The low rumble and sitar-like blosoms that shapeshift on each song sound completely cosmic, betraying their computer and electric origins. Most surprising, however, were the symphonic flourishes and wooden bells that hit at the last moment on the November piece. Bradley and Potter have found a way to take their best studio work and translate it into a live environment without sounding entirely too busy or far too worried about any one sound. It sounds as though they went into these performances almost entirely naked, armed only with the notion of some textures and a nice, solid theme. The minimalistic and generally open feeling of this record set it apart from their other work, but also show that a live experience such as this can be just as good, if not better, than what's done in a studio. Only 200 copies of this release were pressed, each coming in a hand finished sleeve and signed by Potter and Bradley. It's an amazingly vivid and unfortunately rare recording of this duo at their finest. Lucas Schleicher http://www.brainwashed.com

Sometime Today

Chaindlk.com
2004 was an incredible year for the Twenty Hertz/ICR partnership, as witnessed by an amazing series of solo and collaborative cds. "Sometime today", released by Beequeen's Plinkity Plonk, closes the circle with the only missing combination, i. e. Darren Tate (Monos, Ora) and Twenty Hertz's own Paul Bradley. A perfect companion to Monos' "Landscapes", "Sometime today" is a lengthy, multi-layered and shifting track where the two UK soundmakers weave the best meditative drone work I heard last year. As expected, sound sources are stringed instruments, electronics and field recordings, in the best Ora/Monos tradition - but once again, what is really astounding is the organic cohesiveness, and the emotional power, of the resulting sound mass. The piece harmonically shifts from an initial blissful suspension to the final startling vehemence of low-end drones and scraping recordings. Not a minute is wasted or redundant. Pure droning bliss. 41/2 stars out of 5. Eugenio Maggi. http://www.chaindlk.org/

Phosphor Magazine
On "Sometime Today", Darren Tate and Paul Bradley present a 38 minute long collaboration, which consists of subtly manipulated field recordings, mesmerizing drones, and slowly enveloping harmonics. For this release, both Tate and Bradley provided the source material, which was subsequently mixed by Bradley. Beautiful drones slowly descend on what sounds like strings being rubbed and environmental recordings, veiling the other layers and pulling one further into the experience of listening. More layers are added to this initial configuration of elements, which then slowly transits into recordings of city-like sounds, occasional guitar abuse, and more low-end harmonics. Only towards the end things get a little harsher when high-end frequencies are layered on rumbling basses, and develop into a more unsettling score. The recordings have an elegant manner of unfolding, and an intriguing quality due to clever juxtapositions of elements. (MVK) Phosphor

The Wire - March 2005 - Outer Limits
Sometime Today begins with a tiny scraping of objects coupled with a subtle two note melody that recalls later Morton Feldman compositions like For Samual Beckett and even the recent Bernhard Günter homages to Feldman. For stalwart drone scientist Darren Tate of Ora and Monos, here working with Paul Bradley, these references merely introduce a revolving kaleidoscope of timbral interweaving. Gradually, Tate and Bradley's soundfield expands through a web of undulating sinewave feedback tones; in turn, these pure sounds steadily give way to the sustained mantras from a long stringed instrument and bowed metals. Throughout the album, field recordings echo in cathedral reverb and a chorus of looping drones resonates in harmony with the acoustic sounds. Sometime Today is among the best work by either artist. Jim Haynes thewire.co.uk

Landscapes

The Brainwashed Brain
V07I50 - 12192004
I have to wonder what the trio of Darren Tate, Colin Potter, and Paul Bradley has in mind when they record a set such as this one. Perhaps they have in mind the construction of psychic hammer dedicated to the eradication of the sensual world or perhaps they simply mean to open up a space where it seems that no such space could possibly fit or exist. Landscapes has the strange quality of being both musical and completely self-indulgent. "Entering" is a thirty minute circle of guitar, heavy moaning, and monumental volume and "Surface Form" is a chugging and throbbing chunk of absolute isolation. If I'd never heard anything by any of these musicians, I'd find it very difficult to sit through this entire album from beginning to end. Aside from the guitar on "Entering" there is absolutely no reference point that might serve as a familiar anchor; the density of every second of sound on Landscapes is imposing and undeniably rewarding, but I'd start somewhere else if I were interested in anything by Tate, Potter, or Bradley. Once I got over just how thick and sludgy the album is, the tiny nuances and near subliminal sounds that are littered everywhere on this record reveal themselves and demand that the record be listened to again and again. Whispering collisions and intricate networks of sonic tunnels rumble underneath the imposing rumble of organs bellowing sheer intensity. At times the tone is so low that the music is manifested on physically as a material vibration: at this point active listening becomes important. While many records of this type might serenade me into believing its okay to relax my senses and listen passively, Monos demand a careful and direct attention. There is literally an entirely different album moving beneath the pure, direct, and constant hum of machine-generated groans and waves. Darren Tate's artwork is the perfect visual example of what the music sounds like: the bumpy and burned fibers of the cover art suggest a layering of tones, thoughts, and feelings. I was reluctant to listen to Landscapes at times because, on the surface, it feels like such a desolate and uniform recording; repeat listens have revealed it to be so. This is a desert of sound on the surface, but the record grants the chance to see below the surface and into the heart of appearances themselves. - Lucas Schleicher http://www.brainwashed.com

The Wire January 2005 - Outer Limits_Edwin Pouncey
The Monos Duo of Darren Tate and Colin Potter are joined by fellow computer based composer Paul Bradley for an electronic drone session that pushes hard against the boundaries of the form. Featuring a guest appearance by Robin Barnes, "Entering" begins soothingly enough, but soon the intensification of Mono's combined drone technique reaches a low level plane that steadily cruises towards condition red on the overload meter. "Surface Form" repeats the exercise, summoning up an almost ceremonial atmosphere in which the trio's elevating computer hum sounds not unlike the chanting of Tibetan monks deep in prayer. Both pieces are exceptionally well recorded and realised, together with a studios sense of how abstract sound can be turned into a dream weapon.

Confluence

Vital Weekly Number 428
['There are some distinct differences between the works of Paul Bradley and Colin Potter'] [and] on the disc they made together, these two interests blend together. The forceful presence of the sound effects in the opening of the CD, until the more heldback moments later on. Besides whatever it is that it takes to make drones, Paul Bradley and Colin Potter also use processed percussion sounds, or maybe small amplified objects. Whereas the two 'Drone Works' are the raw diamonds, 'Confluence' is much more worked out, going through various phases in the work, but always maintaining a strong drone-like character. I found this CD a bit more electronic sounding, strangely enough, than say some of the work by Monos, Ora or Mirror, but it certainly fits the right tradition. A powerful work. Again. (FdW)

Behind your very eyes

The Wire April 2004 - Outer Limits_Jim Haynes
(Colin) Potter has been the only major partner with Steven Stapleton in Nurse With Wound during the past six or seven years and continues to engineer recordings for a handful of emergent dronescape/minimalist talents. Preston's Paul Bradley is one such artist, and the two have collaborated for a remarkably dynamic piece of Isolationism rampant with metallic timbral slashes that ominously settle upon ever-evolving drones.

Vital Weekly
Number 388
Around the same time (as Twenty Hertz) a collaborative album with Colin Potter was released, with four long ambient pieces. Here it seems to come together, the more industrialized sounds of Bradley and Potter's work with Ora, Monos, maybe even Nurse With Wound and his solo work. Both synthesized sounds and environmental sounds (the latter being heavily processed though) are blended together. A piece like 'Decline' has siren like sounds, sea wave like synths and something that is a like highly processed pool table game. These guys work in a strict minimal way. 'Flattered To Deceive' for instance is a hardly moving, almost static piece of music, but full of atmospheric tension. I think musicwise, this work comes close to that of Mirror with the same, hermetic closed sound. A great CD. (FdW)