The former The Verve-Guitarist Nick McCabe has long made a name for himself as an intuitively inquiring ambient sound tinkerer. Present Imperfect gives a more detailed insight into this process.
„More improvised music, this time selected from early 2023. Represented accurately with minimal processing. A small part of an inadvertent diary.‘ McCabe adds, going into a little more detail: ‘Improvised early 2023, part of an ongoing practice of variable feedback looping (see also We Are Are We). Unreconstructed from the two sessions, captured by Sound Devices recorder, microphones in M/S, meaning interaction in the room is audible. Being a vérité recording = no value assumptions. Amp noise is free.“
According to Name Your Price rating via Bandcamp as a quasi-sequel to We Are Are We. declared, McCabe actually orients himself less to the slightly more catchy song formats, as the excellent cooperation with Pete Salisbury vaguely tried last year, and lets himself be driven completely through instrumental instinct odysseys – but does so between the lines felt more complete, rounder , more complex and yes, also “more effective” than before.
If you don’t passively consume the sound worlds in terms of their imaginative gravity, there are actually many ideas to be observed in the structure, from which McCabe creates a constantly changing, homogeneous kaleidoscope.
In Attrition the guitar loops float freely, wandering with a soothing sense of dreamy amazement in mellow reserve: everything flows openly, but not aimlessly, and the Möbius strip strings shimmer with a patient nonchalance, relaxed, interesting – with melancholic optimism. After about a quarter of an hour gets Attrition even a more urgent mood of optimism swings brazzing and stomping.
Later, the sparkling beginnings of melodies hint at an epic sketched grace, but of course they don’t become tangible and quickly dissolve in the oscillating loops before Attrition peacefully, also a bit sadly, quietly retreats into a barely perceptible crackle at the back.
This is how analytically mapping one registers Present Imperfect but not really if you let yourself be completely immersed in the atmospheric effect.
It is actually much more pleasant to face the gentle swell of the wistful (perfectly titled) Entropy to surrender with closed eyes, to wallow in the nostalgic beauty as in an almost forgotten, blurred, but nevertheless cherished memory, meanwhile withdrawn indie scrapes and breathy humming accompany softly through an elegiac musing soundtrack, in which the guitar tracks overlap, in subtler Fanning longing and shimmering dazzlingly.
That one the twice each 28 minutes from Present Imperfect conversely, which can all too easily be dismissed as aimless banter if you have a less pronounced soft spot for the genre in general, and McCabe’s tones, aesthetics and playing feel in particular, is in the nature of things.
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