Intriguing little ‘CD-single’ 
                style discs like this one can leap either 
                way: grateful for the brevity of the 
                programme you either find yourself repeating 
                the thing in a joyous thrill of discovery, 
                or end up feeling a little cheated and 
                wondering why you all bothered – artists 
                and customer alike. This three track 
                CD single was recorded in the autumn 
                of 2004 and features works by all three 
                founder members of [rout]. Looking at 
                the website, I sense a trend similar 
                to that of the younger artists emerging 
                from Dutch Conservatoires – small groups 
                like ‘Electronic Hammer’ who can create 
                wildly animated sounding concerts while 
                there is nothing but a pair of manned 
                laptop computers on stage. There is 
                a great deal of sense in composers working 
                in compact, tightly-knit communities 
                of sympathetic musicians, and with electronics 
                which have the potential to turn an 
                instrumental solo into something symphonic 
                in terms of sonic depth. 
              
 
              
‘Standing Jump’ by 
                Paul Newland has some interesting sonorities, 
                and for me is the most interesting track. 
                Lightly bowed violin, harmonium and 
                filtered electric guitar together sound 
                almost like a glass harmonica on occasion, 
                with pointillist harpsichord interjections 
                and pizzicato violin setting tones and 
                bare, open harmonies or dissonances 
                in motion. The piece refers to the chronophotography 
                of Etienne-Jules Marey, and a Japanese 
                song form called ‘Ko-uta’. Within these 
                terms, the piece is certainly an atmospheric 
                and static depiction of quiet reflection, 
                economy of means, and as the composer 
                says, is "always on the edge of 
                falling or vanishing". 
              
 
              
‘Love’ by Paul Whitty 
                seems to want to creep back into a dusty 
                old Dutch electronic studio basement, 
                reminding me a little of the wistful 
                song defragmentation and distortions 
                of some of Gilius van Bergeijk’s work 
                (‘Over de Dood en de Tijd’ (On Death 
                and Time) for instance), mixed with 
                punky ‘Slash Orchestra’ style electronic 
                outbursts. Not much new under the sun 
                here, though literary quotes and references, 
                and words cut and pasted out of context 
                are always a handy hanger from which 
                to derive some mental prickles. 
              
 
              
‘Anthem’ by Sam Hayden, 
                "is a fractured version of the 
                British National Anthem", and his 
                "critical response to the Jubilee 
                year of 2002 and nostalgia for the British 
                Empire." I fear Sir Edward Elgar 
                would find nothing to relate to here, 
                for, as the composer reveals in his 
                programme note, each aspect of the conventional 
                anthem was transposed using random factors, 
                and further disrupted by pauses and 
                heavy electronic distortion, and which 
                "annihilates any last trace of 
                the source material". So, we ask, 
                what is the point? The Sex Pistols had 
                more to say on this subject, and managed 
                to say it with considerably more energy 
                and irony. Without the title there is 
                no way of tracing the root and origin 
                of the work’s concept, so all we are 
                left with is track full of grungy noise 
                and quasi-intellectual fury, signifying 
                nothing. 
              
 
              
As a first outing I 
                have the feeling that [rout] might have 
                shot themselves in the foot, just a 
                little. I can imagine that a live concert 
                of theirs would be far more stimulating 
                and I do wish the guys all the best 
                for the future, but for me the material 
                on this disc never quite ‘takes off’ 
                in the way that their provocative group 
                name (usefully (hmmm) provided with 
                the dictionary definition on the website 
                www.routweb.com) 
                would seem to promise. There is no great 
                sense of shock, rout or newness here: 
                it’s the art gallery equivalent of the 
                garland of twigs framing the sepia portrait 
                of an invalid, the flickering neon light 
                installation strewn with torn pages 
                from ‘Penguin Modern Poetry’, and the 
                glass of water labelled ‘Tree’ – it 
                might linger in the memory for a while, 
                but you won’t be burning rubber to return 
                to the exhibition before it’s all taken 
                down and forgotten. 
              
Dominy Clements