Constellation Tatsu is a new cassette only label and these are their first four releases, so we review them all four; four? (yes, I know, but they don’t). I started out with the only name I seem to have recognized, which is Celer, and Will Long plays two pieces of music here that are text book Celer. Two long, sustaining pieces of deep ambient music, long form drones. Its great, its fine and its what we know. I am not sure why I picked that one to play first, as perhaps I already knew this was coming. Mind you, I am not negative here. If this is what the fans wants, this is what the fans get, I suppose. Celer is a master, and this is no different from many of his previous works. C’est ca.

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Silence acts as the launch pad upon which all musical endeavours take-off. Airborne, the music climbs with every passing second into the first, faint signals of harmony with tentative, but ever-increasing substance. A shushed silence carefully unfolds Epicentral Examples of the More or Less, one seconds-long in delaying any approaching ambience. For seconds that feel like hours, the sustained silence hangs like a delicate cobweb in the chilled air, a filmy trace unprotected from the breeze and suspended in a thin fragility. Like the delicate, fine silk, the traces of silence are all too easily torn; a beautiful, interlaced pattern displaying its own elegant spectacle, now lacerated by fingertips and left abandoned by a departed soul.

Celer’s ambience is the kind that leisurely, yet intensely, develops at its own pace; lovingly arranged, amicably brave and always aspiring to reach the stars. Will Long sets the scene for the arrival of his beautifully layered ambience immediately in the delicious expectancy set up by the silence, flirting with any introduction and delaying the arrival so as to leave an emotional imprint upon the listener. As the silence fades and the layers of serenity enter, the absence of any focal point between the two elements suddenly reveals Celer’s methodical, passionate artistry. Celer’s music revels in fine details and the appreciation of beauty in the tiniest grains imaginable, and although it may have taken slightly longer for the ambience to truly enter, it raises a thought that the departing silence may be the very essence of true music in a true state. In some ways, a silence may be the purest form of ambient soundscaping. When rested, a silent harmony descends upon us; placing a peace and comfort upon us in a way that is eerily similar to the flowing, tranquil tones residing in much of ambient music.

The silent disappearance clears the way for an approaching, lightly bronzed drone, kindled on the air and slowly rising outwards. Only just hovering above a slightly subdued silence, the drone accentuates just how still Celer’s music really is. Heart-achingly beautiful tones and drifting drones remain as hushed as a night of shy sleep, and Will Long provides the soundtrack to a beautiful neverland.

Epicentral Examples of the More or Less is an unfolding series of sedate ambience, lightly sprayed tones of perfume, enlightened drone and inspired field recordings, which all blend in to each other seamlessly and captures the spirit of their locale effortlessly. Strikingly, the transitions between these settings and the layers of ambient tones never feel out of place, complimenting each other like night and day. Recorded over the course of two years in Jakarta, Indonesia and Tokyo, the amount of time lovingly spent during the record’s creation has ensured it has aged like the finest of wine, and the level of dedication and levels of painstaking accuracy is crystal clear upon listening.

Celer’s music is wonderfully evocative, transfixing the listener with serene imagery as the ambience deepens. Ambient music is very well suited to reflection, as it often provides a mirror reflecting our deepest emotions of melancholy, peace and reassurance. Celer’s music is the mirror, one that cares for appearance, dispelling the ghosts that haunt us and, as long as the music plays, gifting us a sense of renewed optimism. Absolute quietude has always been engraved inside Celer’s hazy tones, but the ambience here eclipses anything else he has previously laid his hand to.

At first, the swirls blur like smudges until they come into focus and truly reveal their inner beauty, like covering your eyes with your hands and then peeking through to see the sun hovering over a stunning seascape. Any chosen naming gives the music a focal point, half of its identity whether it’s intended or not, but the opaque nature of the title hints at multiple meanings. This allows the listener a freedom to submerge into their own imagery and make of it what they will. Celer’s music is also open to any interpretation, resting for all to see.

‘Motionless at Lake Underhere’ opens with a hushed reverance for its surroundings, blessed with Celer’s ambient adoration. It’s more than a cute crush; it is an intense love, as every second is painstakingly coated with the lightest of static undercurrents that emerge to the surface with a caring heart. An opening drone subsides into a glowing sunset as the tones shift into ‘Losing Funnel’, the day’s heat slipping away over the horizon, eloping with the spectral sunset and tinted in a golden farewell.

The orb of the setting sun sinks underneath the horizon, cooled by the light of dusk amidst the lavender scents of a summer’s evening. Serene and still, ripples on a lake echo out from their centre, a whirlpool awash in the sunlight’s afterglow. These ripples reverberate throughout Celer’s music, his ambient layers widening in ever increasing circles until they outline a hazy dreamcatcher ablaze with emotion. The field recordings could represent a breezy day of dark clouds, motorbikes speeding along rain-soaked roads, or tarp flapping in the wind and blowing off anchored boats. Celer’s field recordings are given an equality alongside the drones, and in their capturing of place they create their own array of colours.

Waves of sequencers continuously vibrate and hum with primary colours, a distinct sound that amicably surprises and explodes any preconceptions out of the water. The synths feel at home in Celer’s music and make for a reinvigorating element. Some may be shocked at its use, but it shows that Celer is always progressing; it’s just a slow ride. Lake Underhere may be the creek that the imagery induces, isolated from any threatening breeze and only slightly tickling the still surface.

‘Layered Where I Can Listen’ kicks off with scurrying electronics, frantically crawling around like a clearing cloaked in a deluge of insects. Leaving it behind, ‘Backseat Fadeout’ leaves us approaching an industrial factory, clanking in a decayed beauty of rusted iron and failing machinery, only capable of ringing out a rusty chord progression. Chiming out in a thin apparition of a once-loved pop song, now decades old and faded in ruin, it is melodic and contradicts the experimental scuttering of the previous track quite effectively. In the space of the opening three minutes, the ambience has changed setting three times, until we arrive at the glacial mountain that is ‘An Infinite Blast of Icy Air’. This overlooks everything, arms spread wide in a life-affirming panorama of crystal drone, an inescapable atmosphere that clasps the listener gently and points their gaze away from the lake and towards an infinitely deep, tranquil ocean. It’s one that is beautifully realised. The ambience increases in spirituality as a feminine, angelic presence sings a harmony of echoes, before smiles and feminine laughter revive us back into the physical world amidst a Japanese conversation.

Celer is very much aware of the art of the drone. The caring textures in the drones promise a submersed shower of beauty which only a skilled hand can attend. Although prolific – which is all too frequently looked down upon under suspicion – Will Long still has a lot to say as Celer, and the still oceans await new discoveries. The atmospheres remain introverted and almost have to be coaxed out, with an apprehensive look at the world in which it could easily be corrupted and tainted upon its beautiful unravelling of adoration. A display of love is a strength, when many would consider it a weak wound of the heart.

The third and final piece fires off pulsing electronic bursts inside ‘Fill Your Light With Lessness’, and while the electronic surges are an unexpected element, it’s an admirable change in direction and leaves the listener waiting for the unknown without dispelling the calm ambience set before it. The field recording that rises to the fore, cut from a monochrome scene, is a warning to beware the friendly stranger, as the drones edge closer to suburbia. As colourless and dated as the film noir cinematic recording may be, it is set free from any constraints a lifetime places upon it. Emotions such as those contained within do not age or fade away; they remain mummified, cocooned within our hearts and away from the deadlights. A phantom of itself, an icy drone concludes the album, cold in the dim light and lulling us with each passing revolution.

At its end, the passion that surround the album makes it very tempting to voice a silent affirmation to a loved one, three silent words that remain unsaid. Even if it is voiced in only a shushed whisper, it is still music. Once the words are out in the open, the only thing remaining is hope. As she echoes the affirmation, the silence of music is dispelled.

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I was very graciously sent an advance copy of Celer’s upcoming album Redness And Perplexity, his 10th release this year, dropping on the 17th August.

Somehow Recordings on their page for this release (music autoplays) forewarns of an album that is, perhaps, not the same Celer sound that we are used to. Initially this is a hard statement to believe, since the opener “Voluminous Files of Multi-Colored Lines / AM Arrest and Conclusion” does not appear to be anything different from the standard Celer drone we are used to. Soft ebbs of drone are accompanied by a curious electronic squealing that incrementally intrudes the relative bliss before cracking and overwhelming its neighbour with its chaotic glitch.

It moves gracefully into “Remaining Impassive, the Other Replied / Yellow – Lit Tiers of Drawback Methodology // Flooded Rooms of Machinery // Moccasin” (yes, that is the actual track name) which is almost Biosphere-esque in its style, maintaining the established drone bliss far in the backfield while a phone conversation in Japanese is played over the top. The conversation terminates seemingly abruptly (perhaps only for those who dont speak Japanese), and music begins to become darker as deep sub-bass pulses begin to intrude alongside the piercing electronic meanderings. They were right, this is not the Celer we are familiar with; this is harsh and experimental, and I feel like I’m missing something.

“Neutral Tremors of Reclusive Intensity / 幡ヶ谷駅 // Looming Face /// Hissing Brilliance //// Buzzing Heartbeat” does live up to its namesake, featuring thudding beats reminiscent of a heartbeat, but also a plethora of field recordings and a distinct cassette tape/record player low-fidelity, like a poorly rendered memory recalling sights and sounds of a distant city. It has distinct phases as it morphs between a pleasant ambient ethos to a coarse, glitch-based barrage of electronic noise which is painful to listen to.

“Sharp Sequel” is a welcome relief as the chaos ends and serenades us into the 45 minute behemoth of “A Less-Abrupt, Multi-Colored (But Faded) Ending” with its 70′s style synths and space ambient feel. Fortunately it seems that the closing track does not seek to assault our eardrums with experimentality either, instead it wants to soothe our distressed ears with pure and quiet minimalism. We are back on familiar territory now as Celer graces us with this beautiful ode to introversion and intimacy, this drawn out sigh that builds its layers at a languid pace, slowly dusting our senses in its paralysing neutrality.

I can’t get behind this album, it’s too avant-garde and experimental from Celer for me to enjoy; it’s nice to see him push the boundaries a little (a lot) and to break out of the mold he has been somewhat typeset into, but one step at a time, you know? I tried, but I just don’t get this album. Perhaps I have simply not explored it sufficiently.

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Tener dietro alle decine di produzioni pubblicate ogni anni da Will Thomas Long sotto l’ormai solitario alias Celer è operazione praticamente impossibile, riservata quasi esclusivamente ai cultori della sua ambient music raffinata e ricca di dettagli emozionali.
L’enorme mole di uscite, lungi dall’essere indice di uno scarso filtro tra le proprie creazioni (e ancor meno di velleità “commerciali”), risponde invece alla naturalezza con la quale l’artista americano traduce in musica i moti del suo animo.

Si prendano ad esempio i due brani di oltre venti minuti l’uno compresi nella cassetta a edizione limitata “Lightness And Irresponsibility”: due composizioni placide e minimali, costruite attraverso cospicue elongazioni di note, modulate in maniera tale da creare un fluire amniotico uniforme e rasserenante.

Eppure, a un ascolto attento, i suoni delle due lunghe composizioni evolvono gradualmente, traducendo la leggerezza di cui al titolo in limpida persistenza, ideale accompagnamento a serene decompressioni ipnotiche, ma anche a concentrati ascolti alla ricerca dei movimenti di toni e frequenze basse.

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The ten tracks on “Sunlir,” which according to press release are “Dedicated to Wendy Carlos,” continue the eternal procession of releases from the enigmatic Celer. The duo of Will Long and the late Danielle Baquet-Long set down enough musical explorations that Celer could go on posthumously as voluminously as Charles Bukowski. The looping tracks on “Sunlir” date from 2006 and, like most of their work, was self-released and rare to find even then.

Opening the set is “Spelunking The Arteries Of Our Ancestors,” which a straightforward, minimal ambient piece with subtle fluctuations of tone. “The Look That Falls Upon Us Extends As If A Landform” offers more of a swirling, Legeti-esque soundscape; “How Long To Hold Up A Breathless Face” is similar in cinematic imagery. “Igenous Matters Most” projects an echoing, haunting tone, as if recorded in a wide, empty, but holy building; that chanting doesn’t break out is almost disappointing. “Vitiating The Incline” has an insistent but lush pulse that takes its time in drawing out its many colors.

The longest piece, the ten minute “Espy The Horizon, Miss The Lost Road,” is consistently monotone, but its silky pulse is reverent, content to advance as is, at its own pace. It too could be considered a meditative, holy piece.
“Sunlir” continues the majestic, tragic and expansive world of Celer. It is available, in many formats, at their Bandcamp site; that there are many options with which to hear this music is fitting, as it should be approached with the idea that there are many gates through which to enter.

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Il terzo capitolo della collaborazione tra Rutger Zuydervelt e Will Long è un nuovo 7″ realizzato in edizione limitata di duecentocinquanta copie, oltre che in formato digitale.
Con “Hei/Sou” si chiude dunque la trilogia di miniature che ha suggellato l’incontro tra due tra i più raffinati e prolifici scultori di paesaggi ambient-drone, che per l’occasione hanno deciso di riassumere le loro abituali lunghe suite in pezzi dalla durata totale intorno ai cinque minuti l’uno.

Il frutto dell’esperimento questa volta sono due brani di placide texture ambientali, i cui lievi drone sono puntellati esili tracce elettroniche, più evidenti in “Sou”, sotto forma di sibili e screziature sintetiche, mentre “Hei” tende a saturazioni più sorde irregolari.

Come già il precedente “Numa/Penarie“, anche questi brevi frammenti costituiscono un esercizio di concisione ben riuscito, il cui understatemen risulta pienamente coerente con il concept paesaggistico nipponico che l’ha ispirato. Completano l’opera due video realizzati da Marco Douma.

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There are some surprising inclusions cropping up in the three long-form compositions ofEpicentral Examples of the More or Less, the latest from Will Long’s Celer, and it’s to his credit that they so artfully compliment the lengthy drones that dominate these pieces, and the longform ambient idiom in which Celer operates. For much of the set we’re in familiar territory: sustained warm hiss, washed out haze, hints of resonant industrial gloom, and the pervasive and expected continuation of these tropes makes their disruption all the more surprising.

Most unusual and unexpected are the looped chords of bright synths which introduce the final ‘Fill Your Light With Lessness / Untitled / Guilt As A Return To Melancholy’ (all pieces are similarly titled), a rhythmic phrase which could signal the beginnings of a peak time Innervisions number. These fade to reveal a snatch of film noir dialogue, a man highlighting a woman’s vulnerability, before lapsing into a familiar swathe of granular waves, pitched between Caretaker misery and Pop Ambient pleasure. The former tracks play with similar shifts in tone and approach, less dramatically: ‘Motionless at Lake Underhere…’ shifting subtly from blurred gauze and warehouse clang; ‘Layered Where I Can Listen Closely’ moving from a choir of squeaking chipmunks through to purring walls of gentle feedback. I’m not sure what these fractured structures imply but they keep you from nodding off, which may be what some listeners seek from Celer releases.

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Titles suggestive of something – but what? Elusive… literary………

Is this album meditative? Zen-like?

What?

(Ambient music? I don’t like the term. Outside my normal preference for beatless noir music professing to depict scenes of dread & horror, this music is welcome; a relief, a space in which to climb, away from the noise of the city here in Zone 1 & so much busy music on the hard drive – clutter – many would benefit from restraint…)

To paraphrase the title of one section, the sound of machines played by Will Long flood the room…

Less being more in this case, Long extracts maximum effect from the application of minimal tones with added (possibly field) recordings such as people in a room (a public space?) and a long spoken (Russian?) word intro. Yet all is not completely calm in the garden…there being interruptions, or rather, evolving passages a brittle sound. Reclusive intensity perfectly describes those parts. Intensity (being relative) plain and simple also bursts into life.

Much of this engages by stealth, and should be played frequently to pass any self-imposed barriers erected against refinement of this kind. And I’m talking to myself there.

The final track is 46mins long. One sustained, subtly shifting (ceremonial) organ(nic) tone poem (or) hymn to minimalism.

Hei/Sou.

Will Long with Rutger Zuydervelt (Machinefabriek)

A 7-inch.

I last bought a 7-inch record in 1977.  But here, again, is mechanised wonder of the most pure (dare I say) variety. Where a small cathedral is duly erected with wave-upon-wave of sound moving from ear-to-ear  and through an almost child-like (in the best sense) melody. And  finally bolstered (very gently) by a bass tone, fading into the distance, as it began, to the sound of simulated cymbals.

If there is a church to mécanique musique Will Long must be it’s organist and with fellow orator Zuydervelt adding his voice it makes for a fascinating, beguiling sermon. Here, brimstone & fire rhetoric is replaced by an insistent whisper in the form of understated rhythm coaxing us to believe.

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