Uwe Zahn likes to take his time between records. It’s been five years since the release of his debut Atol Scrap, and two since its masterful followup Tides. Atol Scrap wasn’t the best or most distinctive record of its time, but it was pleasant enough, and although it was a bit lacking in character, the underlying craftsmanship of the arrangements was commendable. In the end, though, it was just another airless IDM record with angular structures. This isn’t to say it’s not worth a listen; it’s just that it didn’t have much to distinguish it from the rest of the pack.
For his second album, Zahn paired with Christian Kleine for Tides, which was something of a revelation. Kleine supplied several guitar figures, which Zahn arranged into a haunting and programmatic meditation on the French seashore. Tides was by turns beautiful and dramatic, all the while managing to neatly sidestep the New Age pitfalls of such a project. People got up and noticed, and the record got the rave reviews it deserved. Then Zahn disappeared.
Tides still sounds new and vital today, and it’d be a hard record to top. Rather than do so, Zahn has decided to push in a new direction. Lilies is an attempt to set Zahn’s impressions of Japan to music. Rather than come back with a bunch of Koto tracks, he’s gone a more abstract route, and like Tides, it all works.
Part of this is due to simple economy of arrangement. There’s nothing extraneous in Arovane’s music. No flourishes or pointless breakdowns, no pointless beat pattering masquerading as “experimental.” All of which makes his approach on Lilies so appropriate.
“Ten Hours” opens with a harpsichord figure that sounds like something off of Tides, but the shivering string loop is straight out of his earlier work. The next three tracks swing across the poles to a much more energetic dynamic, surprisingly extroverted and playful–words I never thought I’d use to describe Zahn’s work. Unlike Photek’s unfortunate detour into French debauchery, however, everything here still feels like Arovane underneath. Despite the propulsive drum loops and major-key progressions, there’s still an underpinning of pensiveness and isolation, as if Zahn’s just a bit overwhelmed by what he’s conjured up.
“Pink Lilies” uses a Prefuse 73 approach to splicing the vocals of a Japanese singer, and the effect is interesting, but the piece lacks the development or variety to hold interest for long. Perhaps the album’s only weak spot.
The title track brings us back up to speed. There’s still a restless push forward, but Zahn holds back just a bit, splitting the melody into several fragments and spreading it out over different instruments. “Tokyo Ghost Stories” is another track that could have been straight off Tides, with a deep and recessed drum loop and minimal keyboards. On its own, it’s not much, but it serves as a very effective lead-in to “Instant Gods out of the Box,” which is the most straightforward thing Zahn’s ever written. It’s at once pounding and tentative, exuberant and hesitant. Again, there’s no overt melody; rather, one rises and falls from the interplay of bell and harpsichord figures.
The record closes out with “Goodbye Forever,” a lonely vigil of shy piano and a rising crest of distorted strings.
This is the sort of thing that would be a pretty hard sell in the current market. It’s a short record that doesn’t pride itself on gimmick or difficulty. Rather, it’s a very listenable and emotional work that trades in imagery and evocation, and that it does very well.