Reviews 366: Viscardi & Alano Santo
In a just published write-up for L’Eclair’s нощта, I discussed aspects of Genève’s underground music scene, and continuing in that direction, I’d now like to talk about Les Disques Magnétiques. Though only starting this year, the Bongo Joe sublabel has already dropped two essential slabs of wax, with each one exploring the far-ranging possibilities of spontaneous collaboration. The label’s first release was the Ediacara EP by Ethyos 440, which sees the aforementioned cosmic rockers and funk dancers in L’Eclair teaming with DJ Laxxiste A for a deeply fried session of psychedelic acid jamming, late night body grooving, ethno-kosmische skanking, and dub production sorcery. And though it hardly seems possible, the second release on Les Disques Magnétiques is even more exciting, for it features Pascal Viscardi–one of my favorite modern producers–teaming with L’Eclair’s world percussionist and mellotron cosmonaut Alain Sandri. Working as Viscardi & Alano Santo, together with some overdub help from fellow L'Eclair members Yavor Lilov and Sébastien Bui, the two musicians plot an equatorial fantasy excursion entitled Il Sogno di Carmen, one that sees mallet instruments glowing in strange colorations and snaking fogs of fourth world synthesis surrounding block rocking dubfunk beats, slithering dancefloor basslines, and psychotropic layers of rainforest percussion. The result is sonic experience suited for delirium daydreams and ecstatic dances under a sweltering summer sun, with the mind and body floating away towards some imagined island paradise where mystical woodwinds weave around liquid flashes of space guitar, field recordings of tropical forests merge with garbled the transmissions of faraway star systems, and mysterious voices summon ancient spirits.
Viscardi & Alano Santo - Il Sogno di Carmen (Les Disques Magnétiques, 2020) The idiophones of “Biologio Urbana” sparkle enigmatically as they spread out into a polyrhythmic web while underneath, tom toms beat alongside a pounding bass pulse. The eventual groove has that irresistible island life energy that Viscardi does so well, with big dubby beats working the body beneath dazzling mallet panoramas, which eventually give way to a galactic synth solo that is as wispy as it is wigged out. The track seems to momentarily diffuse into ether before snapping back to life, and as glassy chords evoke desert mirage visions, laser blasts and starshine oscillations whoosh around the stereo field. Feedback tracers arc across the sky and synthetic steel drums soundtrack a tropical sunset, with cosmic clusters and LSD-colorations floating in support. At some point a guitar line enters and adds splashes of oceanic psychedelia, and during a glorious drum bridge, reggae chords fire over hard hitting dub rhythms, liquid six-string leads swim through smearing clusters of spaceage gemstone, and layered world percussions explode in every possible direction. Themes from earlier in the track are reprised as we move towards the end, with idiophones sparkling, steel pans soloing, and dolphin song synthetics singing while bass synths growl in support of the shaker infused dub-funk drum jam. And after a false outro of forest rhythms and deep space satellite noise, the beats slam back in for one last gasp of dancefloor mania, with reverb soaked hand drums progressively overtaking the stereo field.
“Ulan Bâtie” is an easy contender for track of the year, and begins with hand drums beating through a fog of reverb, with synthesizers mimicking the sounds of jungle fauna. New age cloudforms and crystalline sound structures billow outwards as a deep bass skank builds in strength, with hi-hats ticking in anticipation and soft chords whispering through layers of delay. Subsonic pressure waves fully actualize the groove, which develops into a balearic digi-dub odyssey, with flashes of fusion synthesis and those characteristic pan pipes of Viscardi calling to the spirits of the sea. There is so much space in the mix, and elements tend to fade in and out according to some feverish logic, with rhythms breaking down at times into skeletal forms while esoteric woodwind melodies encircle the soul. Spaceage oscillators soar and whistle leads transmute towards computronic chaos while glowing globules of electronic sunshine descend over everything, and like all of the best dub tracks, there is a hypnotizing, yet unsettled energy at play, with Viscardi and Sandri refusing to settle in as they keep the mind and body constantly in motion via magical mixing desk manipulations. During moments where sonic spectrum seems completely overwhelmed by echoing interstellar broadcasts, those angelic pan-pipe melodies struggle to be heard through the soft focus swirl of sci-fi debris. Other times, wiggling worms of neon light flow from one side of the mix to the other while squarewave synths spiral outward along helical trajectories. And as we transition into the outro, we descend towards subsonic depths, where incandescent bubble clouds emerge from seafloor steam vents.
The B-side begins with “Prân Nath Rhône” and its shaker clouds and pitch-modulating tom toms. Mallet instruments in multiple layers pan across the spectrum and a slightly vocalized fusion bassline thumps through it all, with guitars bathing in an aqueous haze as they melt over the mix. A slamming and slightly dub-kissed beat enters–again one of those tried and true Viscardi rhythms that feels like cruising across infinite oceans–and further guitar formations reflect and refract off of every possible surface, resulting in a prismatic dance of psychedelic licks and prog funk riffs. Disturbing vocal abstractions…these animalistic howls and growls…eventually resolve into a hypnagogic whisper as the groove works even further towards an all out stoner funk slammer, with merging live and synthetic basslines, panoramic chord cascades, and shining synth star trails jamming over a celestial blanket of strings. Reverberating mallet instruments seem to flow out into the third dimension and dub organs dance while voices erupt into a chaos cloud, though they’re only heard from faraway distances. During a moment of synthesized hypnosis, ping ponging echo fx enshroud coral-colored melodies as they wash back and forth. Then, as the guitars resolve back into focus with riffs that hit like liquid smoke, solar flare synths flow all around and flamboyant boogie funk basslines work up and down the fretboard while drums, tambourines, and idiophones merge towards tropical groove totality.
Fractal flute sequences and rainforest drum layers introduce “Canto Uno - Vivere Domani,” which is soon joined by Viscardi’s whispered seance serenade. Sci-fi basslines imported from the acid house are supported by skeletal drum beats, and at some point, the mix opens up as myriad shaker layers wrap around the spirit. At times, the shamanic vocal spells give way to futuristic temple chanting, resulting in a sort of ear worm chorus of spiritual trance induction, with the track increasingly resembling some ceremonial trek down a river both ancient and mythical. Abstracted synth sparkles fall like a psychedelic rainfall of pure electricity, which reminds me of moments from Vagues Imaginaires’ L'île D'or, and machine cymbals hit with a whip crack effect as the background overflows with insect chatter, extra-terrestrial transmissions, and threads of virtual starlight. And through it all, our druidic priest never relents in delivering his moaning mysticisms and forbidden incantations. In closer “Il Sogno di Carmen,” seed shakers and idiophones dance over blasts of liquified laser light, while tribal hand drums beat out rhythms of ancestral forests and desert caravans. Basslines crafted from ascending arps and tabla are felt more than heard as they flub through panning clouds of insect noise and dial-up detritus while and overhead, hypnochords sitting somewhere between chill out and deep house quiver in ecstasy. As the jam further transitions into a balearic paradise, sea crystal melodies descend, sunrise synth chords work in counterpoint, and the sounds of birds and bugs are psychoactively manipulated by perfumes from tropical flowers. And moving towards the end, seashell flutes swim through galactic oscillations as the drums slowly devolve to nothingness.
(images from my personal copy)
