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2LP
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EE 001LP
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Limited repress. Empty Editions present Eli Keszler's Last Signs Of Speed as their inaugural release. This release has represented a labor of love for both Eli and the label. Last Signs is Eli's first solo release since 2012's Catching Net (PAN 032CD) and explores a very different side of his unique acoustic universe. One in which the macro-cosmic percussive collisions of his earlier work give way to a gradual unfolding of dub-influenced rhythmic constellations. Eli has described Last Signs as his response to playing in club environments over the last few years; an attempt to negotiate a delicate balance between the materiality of his acoustic instrument and the hyper-mediated sonic ecosystem of the club sound system. Coming off like an inspired synthesis between Scientist and Xenakis, Last Signs Of Speed is a truly unique work by an artist at the height of his power.
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CD
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ESPDISK 4061CD
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2010 release. Oxtirn is a truly unique and powerful blend of free energy, modern composition, and mechanical music that defies genre. With two proper full-lengths and an array of self-releases under his belt, Eli Keszler has turned to ESP-Disk for the release of Oxtirn, his third, most composed, and large scale effort to date. Oxtirn captures Keszler and crew at their most frenetic, and abruptly spills out into a cacophony of tuned brass, squeaking rust, and electrically shorting contact mics, taking the detritus of post-industrial existence (sheet metal, spring boards, and motors wrenched from their initial hearths) and transforming that refuse into a 21st-century musique concrète orchestra. On the album's initial track, motors tumble across prepared sheets of metal as expertly placed squalls of bowed string and what could only be described as the sounds of a phantom brass band (courtesy of multiple horn player Andrew Fenlon and Keszler's longstanding partner Ashley Paul on clarinet) mesh transcendentally with Keszler's precise percussion and bursts of controlled chaos. The third track sees Eli and sonic artist Sakiko Mori on both prepared and installed pianos; as the two furiously scrape and agitate strings with a mix of switch-operated motors, contact mics, and suspended preparations, slowly undulating resonant clusters float on top of the underlying din, creating a striking contrast. Here, the eerie timbre of Keszler's bowed crotales recall Italian futurist Luigi Russolo's intonarumori, and the string quartets of Dumitrescu.
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