Genre: Experimental / Avantgarde
Having had the fortune to review Jozef’s previous release in AuralPressure it was a delight to once again behold his newest work, ‘Stations of the Cross’ to once again hear the incisive phrasing of his unique lute-work. As ever, Jozef Van Wissem performs his intimate and eclectic style by disentangling ten- and thirteen-course lute from Baroque/Renaissance cliché, leaving us, the listener with a very modern depopulated classicism.
Languid pedal-point is offset with strange tilting timing, using little steps that suddenly quicken or slow almost imperceptibly – with one instrument for the most part Jozef conveys the organic vicissitudes most classical guitarists would not dare of; his slurs so layered to create constant attention. As timing becomes almost another instrument to the actual performance plucked so too are dynamics, yet Jozef’s work is not tension and release with the gradual crescendo towards finale, but a sustained uneasiness of defaced chords and backward notation. Jozef’s work should not be considered folk, would be a shame, for ‘Stations of the Cross’ clearly denotes a shimmering darkness through carefully scripted notation from an avant-garde platform.
Pedal tone haunts the listener, the organ drone of open strings thumbs the undercoat while the fingers glissando, pop and peel, harmonics extracted and blended that the uninitiated ear might construe as being multiple overdubs. The truth is there is little music, least of all recorded on lute in today’s age that sounds so fresh when reconstituted and whilst Jozef has a background in Baroque and Renaissance he uses it to inscribe notes that linger rather than resolve, providing his luxuriant arpeggios with a relentless quality. Several of the tracks feature field recordings taken from train stations and airports to which Jozef slips, like an unheard and unseen performer watching beyond the stage performing for the hurrying ensemble. If at all you enjoy raw strings and unheard of compositions played with the skill of a virtuoso not afraid to break the rules you should snap this limited edition album up while you can.
The album is a digifile, tucked into a thick plastic envelope. Silver paint on black elegantly offsets this release and carries more aestheticism than previous works, succinct liner notes are tabled in the four panel digifile, adorned with a luxurious interior etching of human sorrow.
