Matthias Gründig

DB ENTRY 3498-A
Alias: ECHO//PRIOR_15
Loc.ID: XES-15-17-3

ART.RCV:
ELEC.SND.MOD.x13 [DEGR: HIGH]
CASING/CORR-LV.4
FUNC-STAT: [INACT].
OBS.LOG:
Initial scan ≈ 47% sig.dec. Patterns exhibit structured freq.arrays [REF.PURP: ?]. No assoc. w/ std.PRE-COL sys.recog. Possible intentional gen. artifacts or [DATA LOST].

ACT.ATMP:
SYS: ERR-FAIL
DATA REC: 22.9% [PENDING]. Transient ton.struct.* Detected tonal output inconsistent w/ typ.arch.sound sys.

ANL-SUM:
Artifacts hypoth. linked to comm/cerem(?) or alt.exp.formats. DEC/PURP.FUNC remains unverified.

NOTE:
Add.OP in XES-15 marked PRIO-2. Several linked meta.logs (FRAG.X-3498) unavailable [ARCH-CORR]. Missing doc.refs incl. xFER LOG 03-L & SYS.INT x12.

REC:
Secure artifacts @ LVL-5. Assign decoding to SYS.A-NOVA w/ cross-link to LOSTNET.

END.DB_3498-A. 

Von der Bandcamp-Seite: „“The Clouds, They Move So Slow“ will always have a very special place in my heart. It was the first piece that I started creating for my album ATOLLS. I remember vividly how I was just checking out a new delay pedal in our living room. On the initial takes you can hear my partner do the dishes next door. Whilst fiddling around, my instinct told me to record all this. Luckily, I did and invited a handful others to join me.
If I were to choose one piece to represent what I am about as an artist, it would be „The Clouds, …“. Fair enough to give it a vinyl release on its own, now that ATOLLS is sold out!
I backed this mini-album with „Replying to Unaddressed Letters“.
During the 50+ concerts of my ATOLLS Tour, I always started my shows improvising to this magnificent organ drone by Matthias Gründig. The piece grew dearer and dearer to me, each time I invented new versions of it. „Letters“ is another treasure bit along my life journey as a musician.

I hope you enjoy this not-so-mini album of two special pieces. Let the Music embrace you so you may find some peace and eventually a bit of yourself in the Music.“ Malo Moray

In addition to everything else that briefly disappeared during the pandemic, I personally missed the experience of sitting in a concert hall and hearing the orchestra tune up. Final conversations in the audience, creaking chairs, coughing. Then gentle, isolated tones that come and swell together. Meeting point A, 440 Hertz, approximately. The audience becomes silent, the actual music is just an afterthought.

I’ve been carrying the idea for the Ever-Tuning Orchestra with me ever since: an orchestra that never has to start the concert, that plays without a score and without an end, and in which all the random sounds from the audience, intermission and rehearsal have their place. The 8-channel audio installation is based on this idea: In a self-written program, eight samplers randomly access audio clips that I took from YouTube videos in parallel and recombine them in a common, idiosyncratic Ambisonics sound space.

The audio installation is an homage to the New York artist and composer Phill Niblock. Since his first album nothin to look at just a record (1982), Niblock’s drone music has created sound spaces in which minimalism and maximalism meet – a lot and very little music in one. Rhythm, beat and virtuosity are undermined here in favor of complex harmonies, texture and duration. Standstill and movement. Phill Niblock died on January 8th 2024.

In 2021, I bought an old Indian harmonium from a man from Tajikistan. He must have been a professional musician, but we didn’t share a language, so I can’t be sure. His apartment was full of instruments and not much else—almost no furniture, nothing on the walls, no plants. When he gestured for me to enter, I saw a large bird behind him, leaving one room, crossing the floor, and entering another. Was I to make him aware that there was a bird in his flat? I didn’t; he probably knew his roommate. After offering me some tea, he showed me the harmonium and encouraged me to compress the bellows and play some keys. He gave me a discount for reasons I couldn’t clearly understand. Maybe he liked that I didn’t remark about the bird, or maybe he felt pity because of the mournful sounds I barely managed to press out of the instrument. He then insisted on driving me home in his car, a silver Mercedes—one of two identical ones, as he proudly showed me in the street. He wouldn’t take any money for the ride. I remember he said something about having five daughters. I think about him every time I play the harmonium.

These people wove their gifts into this album (in order of appearance in the process):

Malo Moray – Artistic Concept, Composition, Vocals, Upright Bass, Tapes, Electronics, Prepared Guitar, Field Recordings, Design Concept, Producer
Hans Arnold – Drums, Electronics
πxl – Saxophones
Gregor Forbes – Piano, Photography
Markus Rom – Guitar, Electronics
Marc Urselli – Mix, Master
Rowan Coupland – Prepared Harp
Matthias Gründig – Synthesizers, Materials, Electronics, Springs
Izabela Kaldunska – Violin, Electronics
Barnabas Herrmann – Flute, Vocals, Painting
A 400 Year Old Oak Tree – As Themself
Ben Dexel – Clay Tile
Konstantin Feig – LP Sleeve Design, Concept & Printing
Friederike Butter – Painting

© 2023 Malo Moray. All music composed by Martin Riebel, except for “Letters” and “Tiny Objects” by Martin Riebel & Matthias Gründig. All rights reserved. All inquiries: info@possiblysam.com www.malo.cool

These are songs relying on simple structures and repetition. They are about felt time instead of rigid metrics, about chance textures and your ears as much as mine.

While „Unaddressed letter, dated Sept 30, 2020“ might be considered a synthesizer-monologue, the other two songs make use of a tape player to put the organ-like synth voice in dialogue with itself.

Together they document my love for the wonderful music by composers such as Jon Gibson, Phill Niblock, Alvin Lucier and Fujita Yosuke.