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 alternativelyCD: AmazonUK 
              AmazonUS
 Sound 
              Samples & Downloads
 | Alexander BERNE (b. 1969)  
              CD 1
 Flickers of Mime: Flicker I [8:16], Flicker II [3:49], Flicker 
              III [4:51], Flicker IV [5:08], Flicker V [4:00], Flicker VI [4:49], 
              Flicker VII [4:47], Flicker VIII [4:47], Flicker IX [3:49], Flicker 
              X [4:16], Flicker XI [4:26]
 CD 2
 Death of Memes: Meme I [5:06], Meme II [6:16], Meme III [6:41], 
              Meme IV [6:53], Meme V [5:23], Meme VI [4:19], Meme VII [8:01], 
              Meme VIII [5:40], Meme IX [4:51]
 
  Alexander Berne and The Abandoned Orchestra rec. dates not given, Mirabella Studios, Florida
 
  INNOVA 804 [53:34 + 53:16]  |   
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                Alexander Berne is a saxophonist, composer and visual artist. 
                  His origins as a musician can be found in the jazz scene, but 
                  with a period exhausting the possibilities of solo performing 
                  in Europe and a further phase back in New York involved in film 
                  production and painting Berne has been on a long journey. One 
                  of his activities is creating his own hybrid musical instruments, 
                  and with clearly a very wide range of influences this double-album 
                  is filled with unique timbres, and much of the material here 
                  is very far removed from even the most experimental of jazz. 
                  
 There are indeed many remarkable sounds on this release. Berne 
                  works extensively with a variety of techniques to transform 
                  and electronically manipulate sounds, creating vast effects 
                  such as those in Flicker I. This opens with a tremendous, 
                  all-embracing sonority on a chord which sounds more like a grand 
                  conclusion than an opening. I love it. A circus drum-roll and 
                  crash of cymbals heralds surreal but subsumed theatrical drama, 
                  opening out into a cavernous space inhabited by massed and muffled 
                  church bells, the mysterious tinkling of a quasi-piano, elongated 
                  and moody organ tones, an elegiac melodic phrase from a saxophone.... 
                  Nothing here is quite what it seems, and the imagination is 
                  set on fire.
 
 These tracks share a cyclic development of material, giving 
                  each its own identity, and constantly creating new effects through 
                  shifting juxtapositions. The saxophone is an important voice 
                  as you would expect, but Alexander Berne isn’t interested in 
                  solo jamming. His tones melt into and emerge from the textures, 
                  a member of the family of sounds it inhabits rather than a prominent 
                  individual. Overdubbing creates a kind of sax-chorale in Flicker 
                  II. A noisy and rather unmusical constantly recurring single 
                  bass note in Flicker III is less appealing, though the 
                  little flock of toy pianos and ethnic sounding recorder-like 
                  instruments are a treat. Flicker IV is steeped in mournful 
                  lament, and we hear Berne’s hybrid ‘saduk’: a cross between 
                  a saxophone and the Armenian duduk. If you like some of Stephan 
                  Micus’s work for the ECM label then this kind of thing will 
                  have great appeal. With fascinating textures and a superb touch 
                  in exploring the suggestive and non-explicit, Alexander Berne 
                  creates a vast aural canvas with his Flickers of Mime. 
                  Jazz moments do jump out on occasion, though the piano in Flicker 
                  VI is more a performance by the revived corpse of Schumann 
                  than the atonal experiment it first appears to be. Chillingly 
                  other-worldly slow-motion tidal waves of doom break over us 
                  in Flicker VII, and Flicker VIII is the first 
                  with a drum beat of any kind, a grinding machine-like loop over 
                  a growling ‘sci-fi’ pedal tone. Not all is slow in Flicker 
                  X, and with interlacing saxophone scales and a bustling 
                  banjo or cimbalom somewhere in the mix this is at times as close 
                  to a mix between Terry Riley and Laraaji as we're likely to 
                  come on this record. Compared to most of the other tracks it’s 
                  a hillbilly car chase. The final Flicker XI opens with 
                  a genuinely disturbing mixture of slow wailing and what sound 
                  like approaching grandfather-clock-clad footsteps, out of which 
                  we are momentarily and periodically helped by more up-beat rhythmic 
                  elements.
 
 In his booklet notes, Lawrence Cosentino describes Flickers 
                  of Mime as tracing a rising arc, and the second disc, Death 
                  of Memes a downward movement of decay. Though there is a 
                  cyclical element I don’t think this arch is a particularly strong 
                  aspect of the structure of the whole - in other words we might 
                  not ‘get it’ in this way if we weren’t told, but if you thought 
                  Flickers of Mime was pretty grim then Death of Memes 
                  will drag out even darker nasties from your subconscious. 
                  Meme I is a grungy soundscape, its bleak features only 
                  spoiled by cheesy ‘boom-boom’ drum beats at what your ancient 
                  Hollywood Roman naval captain would have called ‘ramming speed.’ 
                  Berne says of this second tract that “this city you thought 
                  you saw, that this guy could conjure, is culturally on the way 
                  down - the destructive principle, making way for something else.” 
                  As such it could be a soundtrack for our times – at least in 
                  the way all our well paid leaders are culturally on the way 
                  down. The sense of dissolution is expressed in fragmented piano 
                  notes, little swarms of saxophone insects which gather and disperse; 
                  washes of transformed sonority, and further melodic laments. 
                  Meme V is a masterful elegy, the accompanying drone being 
                  slid around by gorgeously crunchy harmonies, the melodic shapes 
                  over the top timeless and exotic. Berne frequently creates atmosphere 
                  from a minimum of means, with Meme III a reduction of 
                  just a few piano notes multi-tracked into an intimate flight 
                  of canonic chiming bird-bells. If you like your sounds spooky, 
                  then Meme VI will take you to the gaping maw of an unknowable 
                  beast’s lair. The final track is like the final chorus of the 
                  great oratorio, the layered voices of the saxophone and other 
                  gentle reed instruments propelling our burning pyre ship into 
                  a horizon-less infinity.
 
 Too dark and uncomfortable to be categorised in the ‘ambient’ 
                  section of your local CD emporium, this is the good stuff, and 
                  I support it wholeheartedly. Alexander Berne’s self-made and 
                  superbly produced soundtracks go against the grain of instant 
                  gratification, and take you to the kinds of places you would 
                  normally only expect to find from the intensity of a powerful 
                  novel. The two discs are presented in a stylishly bookish stiff 
                  gatefold finished in suitable blackness.
 
 Dominy Clements
 
 
                         
 
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