Another Big City Orchestra
release, another egregious misspelling of the act's name. Coincident
with their eternally-shifting line-up, BCO's name is subject to
frequent one-off variations, my favourite so far being
2005's 'Bfg Cfty Oggettwstre,'
which appeared momentarily for a single MP3 release.
Unfortunately, I couldn't tell you the
personnel for the present hour-long
adventure, as there is a severe dearth of
information out there on this release, but I do know a few
spare facts: ymir is,
apparently, BCO's 79th release;
it has been limited to 70 copies; and it
comes by way of Lithuanian imprint AghartA Tapes. Beyond that, the
music does the talking.
To be honest, I enjoyed ymir's
chaotic a-side, but it didn't blow me away
– it's a perfectly satisfying brew, but it's hardly the most
inspired stretch of experimental
murk I've ever encountered. You know the
story: a dark miasma of sonic haze is
hoisted, with assorted samples, noise, and sonic ephemera dropped in
for good measure. Of course, the BCO approach is considerably more
manic than many others. At one point, a brief, bass-heavy pop song
sample mingles with a jet of drilling electric noise, and it's a
pulverizing few minutes of glory. For me, however, nothing else
truly gripped me by the collar and pulled me in. On the other hand,
side B pulled things together astutely. Its journey begins with a
serene piano-and-bass loop above which assorted bizarre samples are
repeated endlessly. In comes a base of ominous synthesizer chords,
layered over with woodwinds, keyboard tones, atmospheric samples,
and miscellaneous police radio transmissions. As a composition, it
is constantly shifting and metamorphosing, but it maintains a creepy
and alienating texture throughout. I find it to be a much more
enrapturing effort than the uneven a-side, completing what turns out
to be a solid 79th installment of BCO's sprawling legacy.
