He's Viennese and calls himself a “freelance musician.” The solitary kind, relaxed expression, short hair and three-day stubble. Bernhard Fleischmann seems like a calm sort of guy, who plays electric guitar and layers it with a bed of artificial vibrations to let the sound coming from his fingers flow more smoothly. Fleischmann genuinely loves playing guitar — his relationship with the instrument borders on the obsessive, with every part of the six-string becoming an object of his passion. His tribute to Humbucking pickups is so heartfelt that he named the album after them and put four of them on the cover.
But the album isn't a collection of solos from some guy trying to show off how good he is on six strings… quite the opposite. The guitar builds atmospheres, with a muffled, soft tone, sketching out melancholy progressions for a winter that's about to end. And so, amid the controlled feedback of “Phones And Machines” or the fantastic riff of “First Times,” another small box of jewels arrives from the Morr goldsmith's workshop. This isn't the Austrian musician's first outing, but it's with this album that his sonic quest seems to have come full circle. How else to explain the sonic cleanliness achieved on the ethereal yet inwardly violent “Static Grate,” or the slow but relentless pace of the opening track, “Broken Monitors”?
Still, Fleischmann manages to resist the temptation of a fully instrumental album, weaving in pianos and minimal beats that steer the tracks toward a rhythm functional to his primary goal: supporting the guitar in every one of its sonic nuances. He thus gives us two perfect summaries of the album in its two sung tracks. “Gain” stands out above all — an introductory keyboard line and guitars chasing each other once the sung verse lets them off the leash. Under five minutes, yet deeply moving, carried by his calm, relaxed voice, his solitary Viennese voice. More aggressive in its rhythms and more incisive in its weary gait, like a stroll through Schönbrunn park, is “From To” instead, where toward the end Fleischmann's computer lets loose, releasing every digital sound at its disposal, attacking and overwhelming his timid guitar line. After the electronic storm comes the anguished, resigned calm of “Aldebaran Waltz,” which closes the album. “The Humbucking Coil” is a very cohesive album in terms of sound, one that will surely find admirers among listeners content with small guitar progressions.
A more intimate, less “sociable” record than the rest of Morr's recent output, a light work carrying a dense grey cloud drifting across the blue sky of Fleischmann's guitar.
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19/12/2006
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Dario Ingiusto, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.