Taylor Deupree is one of the closest living embodiments of the concept of the “opera mondo” (the all-encompassing “world-work”); he has Babel-like interests that he pursues all at once, using the most far-flung languages. You might say he cultivates the lost art of conversation, through which, together with an inordinate number of artists (from Ryuichi Sakamoto to Stephan Mathieu, from Richard Chartier to Eisi, from David Sylvian to Craig Tattersall, to name but a few) he forges pidgins and lingua francas to commit to record.
With Uwe Zahn (aka Arovane) he shares the third stage of the Arbasino-esque triad, both venerable masters who came through the electronic revolution, and an existential curiosity about what they call “music technology”. It took them decades to converge on a shared project, and when they finally managed it, working every possibility out of an old synthesizer, the result was “Skal_Ghost” (12k, 2022), a deep, vertical cross-section of a rich and complex sonic sediment; a more physical, material Harold Budd who, through layers of texture, sampling and electroacoustic manipulation, conjures heterogeneous environments in constant, magma-like activity.
“Enth” presents itself as the second chapter of that fortuitous encounter, but it embraces Deupree's need to wander, changing the instruments, atmospheres, outcomes and roles involved. Arovane brings along synthesizers, pedals, an electronic setup and a hefty collection of field recordings; Deupree, on the other hand, limits himself to exploring the possibilities of guitar and mixing. The result is a work that's less layered and exuberant than its predecessor, more focused on the reflections and ripples on the water's surface than on the secret life of the depths below. The loops are used sparingly, favouring a buttoned-up kind of variety.
So while “Terr” draws on velvety glitches, floating amid pulsing synths, “Lake” degrades the guitar melody into lo-fi delay beneath a shower of electronics and natural sounds. “Gaun” props up the chords with sandy, melancholy pads that, on “Fas”, darken into a rarefied atmosphere of night and danger.
With its guarded nostalgia, “Enth” carries its elongated guitar notes through granular jolts of electronics, which on “Fiji”, lit by a more relaxed and luminous mood, crackle until they melt into the tremulous play of the synths. “Cabin” is the richest track on the record, thanks to the heavy use of field recordings and rough, shattered textures. Closing the album is “Fult”, with its sweet, melancholy gait; the guitar counterpoints the isolated notes of a piano, all of it underpinned by a windy, raw, rural loop.
If the pair's enthusiasm is palpable, as is the sheer enjoyment of sharing the process, this second instalment doesn't move us particularly as listeners, relegating us to mere onlookers of an alchemy that's well blended, well found and well laid out, but that remains an exercise in style, a poetic game of catch between two players who, one way or another, with skill and experience, always manage to bring something home — without ever dropping the ball.
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23/07/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Luca Viti, 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.