Though he is very much an artist of Warp’s modern era (his first release for them coming in 2001), Chris Clark’s music is arguably more in tune with the ethos and sound of the label’s ‘90s Artificial Intelligence heyday. Whilst the newer wave of “post-everything” producers on the label (such as the Glaswegian “digital maximalists” Rustie and Hudson Mohawke, or the Californian astral traveller Flying Lotus) grab the headlines, artists such as Clark and Autechre, surely the main precursor to his sound, in some ways represent the true heart and soul of Warp to many fans. As The Wire Magazine’s Simon Hampson wrote in his review of Clark’s previous album, Totem’s Flare, “Chris Clark is, for all his forays into other genres, classically IDM”. In this respect, with his new release, Iradelphic, nothing has changed. This is, for want of a better word, “serious” music, rigorously conceived and executed, challenging the listener and (if Clark’s tales of the album’s lengthy genesis are anything to go by) the creator too.
Though Clark’s attitude towards music-making has seemingly remained consistent throughout his career, his sound palette has certainly evolved and altered considerably from his earliest releases. Iradelphic makes heavy use of acoustic guitar (causing me to hastily check I was playing the correct album during the flamenco-esque opening track!) and the sort of fluting test-card synth sounds favoured by artists such as The Advisory Circle. However, rather than using these elements to create a warm and wistful haze of nostalgia akin to his label-mates Boards Of Canada and Bibio (with whom he collaborated on mostly abandoned sessions for this album), Clark places the familiar sounds in an alien and discomfiting landscape that never allows the listener to settle. The unpredictable arpeggios of album standouts ‘Tooth Moves’ and the preview track ‘Com Touch’ conjure up an intoxicating yet somehow unheimlich Mittel-European dreamscape, jarringly interrupted by hyperactive bursts of neon future-funk, reminiscent of the young Scottish producers that I mentioned earlier.
After a breathlessly exhilarating first four tracks, culminating in the jittering modular synth of ‘Skyward Bruise/Descent’, the album then loses some of its momentum, as Clark returns to the experimentation with vocals that he began on Totem’s Flare. This, for me, remains one of the least successful aspects of his music, often detracting somewhat from the inscrutable and otherworldly quality of his instrumental work. Clark’s own vocals are limited, if inoffensive, but the appearance of Tricky’s former foil Martina Topley-Bird unfortunately brings to mind some of the more unpleasant aspects of faux-jazzy ‘90s trip hop, particularly on the track ‘Secret’, which is thankfully rescued from ignominy by a genuinely jazzy Flora Purim-esque mid-section.
However, just when the lacklustre trudge of ‘Ghosted’ (oddly suggestive of a fun-free Position Normal) and the strangely perfunctory piano solo ‘Black Stone’ had me slightly losing faith in the album, Iradelphic is spectacularly revived by the three-part mini-epic ‘The Pining’. Sticking to a relentless, nagging 5/4 beat, these three tracks sound to me like the imaginary result of a live band and orchestra attempting to perform music such as The Black Dog’s epochal Bytes album. Instead of the sharp, utopian gleam of pure electronics, we hear acoustic instruments chopped and warped into head-scrambling formations, eerily replicating the classic rave mindset of simultaneous elation and paranoia.
The album closes with a piece of electro-acoustic drone that, whilst it may allow the listener to collect their thoughts, certainly doesn’t bring them any sense of relaxation or resolution. Nor does it bring one any closer to understanding Clark’s mysterious art and, at a time when hip artists such as Laurel Halo are rescuing IDM from the wilderness of credibility, hopefully many more listeners will be encouraged to immerse themselves in this puzzle.
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