LARS HORNTVETH - Kaleidoscopic

Already the mastermind behind the collective Jaga Jazzist and author of that “Pooka” which delighted more than one aficionado back in 2004, twenty-eight-year-old composer and multi-instrumentalist Lars Horntveth raises the stakes with this second effort, “Kaleidoscopic”, a 37-minute suite committed to vinyl (who knows for how much longer that'll even be a thing...), the crowning achievement (so far) of his “symphonic” ambitions and - why not - yet another proof of his impeccable taste. After all, while the parent project thrived on the not-always-well-balanced clash/encounter between Thrill Jockey-style “jazzed-up” post-rock (read: Tortoise) and electronic dustings (Ninja Tune distributed them in Europe), with his solo path the Norwegian Horntveth is recalibrating his aim, favouring the organic cohesion of the whole, along with the variety and chromatic density of its textures. And this time things were done in grand style: 41 members of the Lithuanian National Symphony Orchestra, conducted by maestro Terje Mikkelsen - on loan from the St. Petersburg Philharmonic - recording in a small church in Riga, under the supervision of Lars himself and co-producer Jorgen Traeen.

All the ingredients for a more-than-satisfying work were there, in short. And so it proved, albeit with a few reservations we'll get to.

“Cinematic” is the adjective most used by bloggers and reviewers to describe the record; we, in all honesty, won't dodge the cliché either, especially given an opening core (Vangelis caught making out with Bernard Herrmann under the voyeuristic gaze of John Williams? Ugh...) that already name-checks several “sacred monsters” of the soundtrack world. But here it's the breadth of vision, the polymorphism and the amalgam that make the difference: the fine floor plans of “Kaleidoscopic” become an amusement park where a rigorous yet playful Horntveth can indulge in a little digital-flavoured waltz amid folktronic bubbles à la Four Tet (starting at 10:00), give himself over to an ethno-minimalist dance vaguely reminiscent of Penguin Café Orchestra, and immediately after, without any break in continuity, lose himself in touching chirps of acoustic guitars and clarinet (28:47) where you can glimpse the avant-easy listening Jim O'Rourke of the inexplicably underrated “Eureka”.

Obviously this isn't the kind of stuff to tear your hair out over, nor should it be. But these 37 minutes, handled perhaps with excessive naiveté and with all due reservations, remain rich in brilliant harmonic and/or stylistic solutions. And listeners shouldn't be troubled by the sheer quantity of references rattled off by Lars himself: aside from the abrupt cut at 10:00 and a few conspicuous “dead zones” (especially in the middle section), the record flows evenly, without fractures, letting its themes weave together in the most complete relaxation.

An uninterrupted flow of moods and motor reflexes, an idyllic mirrorball dangling over the shoreline of our times, “Kaleidoscopic” puts a lot - maybe too much - on the table, but it seems to be heading in the right direction.

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12/03/2009