FALTER BRAMNK - Soundtracks Stories

Soundtracks for scattered frames. That's probably the best way to describe this second work by Bramnk for Snowdonia. A fascinating record that will surely delight film buffs, especially for its knack of giving fresh verve to the sonic element that underscores the direct (and indirect...) power of images.

Recorded between 1995 and 2003, these "soundtrack stories" tell tales that don't necessarily correspond to the films Bramnk draws on or "steals" sound fragments from (noises, spoken voices, silent backdrops). Stories that, in more than one instance, end up opening up new narrative horizons, in which the original cinematic element takes on new layers of meaning and fascinating, unprecedented shades. This is the case, for example, with "Toccata e fuga", which pays homage to Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" with a sinister pulse (always on the verge of evanescence), hysterical laughter and electro grain; or "Zone", where two parts of the original soundtrack of Tarkovsky's "Stalker" are used and mixed together.

Elsewhere, the cynical ghosts return of Pasolini's "Salò" ("Il Girone della Merda", with its classicizing breath), of Godard ("Alma Libre", which, in the wake of his "Alphaville", unleashes an "industrial" chaos; and "Le Cas Hans Lucas", which works toward a jazzy disengagement, with an eye on "Breathless") and of Josè Giovanni (minimalism and cosmic roots for his "Dernier Domicile Connu"). Ghosts, as we said. Fragile figures carved with meticulous care into their labyrinths of mystery and visionary allure, sparing nothing in terms of stylistic variety: the minimalist space-dance of "Linda For The Devil" or the Cluster-like, misshapen voco-phonic offshoots of "Service Spécial"; or, again, the desert atmosphere of "In Or Out", where fragrances of world music, noise-driven landscapes and isolationist cones of shadow coagulate. Sonic digressions bordering on a kind of mental descriptivism, one that forces us to build bridges between two art forms, two modes of expression, so close and yet so far apart.

A game of echoes and fascinating nuances, one that holds you in its grip with arcane, almost thaumaturgic powers. A game, however, that over the course of its seventy minutes also ends up showing its seams. It's undeniable, in fact, that Bramnk's creative verve thins out and loses its way considerably in the second half of the record. While "Il Tacchino di Venezia" pays homage to Fellini and slips by inconclusively, "Alex is Happy" hams it up between Kubrick and Henry Purcell in an indecisive, muddled way, much like the sample mosaic of "Noir c'est Noir", redeemed, at least, by an alto sax skittish enough to keep the listener's attention alive.

The expressive character of the record probably owes a great deal to the way the tracks were assembled over the span of nearly a decade. Treating them as an integral part of a unified project, then, only does a disservice to what is, in every respect, a collection of small "imaginary" stories deeply tied to a love of cinema, its magic, its dreams, its ability to conjure (im)possible worlds. For this reason too, it's a record well worth recommending to anyone. Despite everything.

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30/04/2026