6 tracks from the mind and modules of Detroit resident Solvognen. All with a theme in mind that is left for the listener to interpret. Heavy synth work and a credit to the label.
‘IKB’ is the second release by Solvognen for Disco Insolence following a spilt-tape with Chaz Dolo last year. The full album treatment suits this artist, allowing them to display a variety of interesting sounds. ‘Vermillion’ has something of the all-surface sense-rush of Oneohtrix Point Never but with less of the plush plasticity, this is gnarlier and steam-driven; the arpeggios low-resolution and melted around the edges. ‘Wisteria’ contains a synthesised cello grinding amidst a glitch whiteout; Kosmiche hum and crunching fruitless modem scanning adding further grime to an already pixelated sound-space. ‘Aureolin’ has a placid soft tidal drift, barbed acid scribbles gambolling in the surf like poison-spined crustaceans. ‘Amber’ proceeds in martial fashion, snare rattles echoing into the distance. ‘Mauve’ burbles circularly like a pre-skronk section from a Colin Stetson track; a creeping bass riff lends a night-time air, wet streets and urban decay evoked in the crumbling song structure and strained grid-like precision.
Emotionally engaging, inventively arranged, atmospherically haunting; this second release for Jonathan Lee’s Disco Insolence label is an excellent addition to their fledgling catalogue.
This tape by Detroit resident, Solvognen (aka Daniel Llanes), is a beacon of truly delightful instrumental music from a city purportedly in a constant state of ebb. That town's own history of bacchanal club music is all but absent from IKB's always pensive, often cinematic bedroom compositions. The beats are simplistic, lo-fi and low rent, and the music focuses on texture and tone, eschewing pinpoint precision in favour of broader musical strokes. The title track features a low-bitrate sample of chords bashed out behind a piano that gurgles and stutters a la Fennesz's classic Endless Summer. 'Amber' harkens directly back to Boards of Canada's earliest blend of beats and quivering atmospherics, while the bassy arpeggios at the heart of 'Mauve' evoke retro filmic darkness akin to Brad Fiedel's enigmatic theme from Terminator, finally disintegrating into chaotic phasing fuzz. However, it's 'Wisteria' that's obviously stands out, putting to use mellotron VSTs to curl out a theme straight from the Klaus Schulze book of Kosmische. The leading synthetic cello meets a sea of synthetic strings for a harrowing mid-track peak that's much more Irrlicht than Carl Craig. Though perhaps too often snatching from well established motifs in electronic music, the pervasive feeling of IKB is an uplifting one, and one that makes these six home-made miniatures from Solvognen worth hunting down