Australian-born Berlin-based composer Jasmine Guffond has long focused on the sociopolitical elements of sound in her practice. Her previous solo album, 2020’s Microphone Permission, was an enthralling exploration of sound art in the age of mass surveillance, utilizing sonification of Twitter metadata and the city of Melbourne amongst other sources. Her latest record Alien Intelligence utilizes the non-humanistic elements of electroacoustic composition as a point of departure for understanding technological interference in our day-to-day lives.
Alien Intelligence was conceived during Guffond’s 2021 GRM residency and was composed on GRM’s Serge modular synth alongside Max MSP. The intention was for the technology to have as much of an imprint on the music as the composer herself, calling to mind Roland Kayn’s cybernetic approach to computer music. Indeed, experimental music has long called into question the role of the composer themself, going back to John Cage’s indeterminate music. Alien Intelligence, however, exists in the context of AI increasingly seeping its way into every aspect of art, labor and culture. Thus, there’s a palpable tension in Alien Intelligence, existing somewhere between the bliss of letting go of control and the potential for disruption inherent in all technology.
The three tracks on this album each stand as statements of their own. “Serge & Maxine Variation One” is a slow-moving ambient piece reminiscent of Laurie Spiegel’s “Patchwork.” The track is driven by warm layers of synths but maintains a somewhat surreal pitch that gradually builds into a soft alarm by the end. In contrast, “Serge & Maxine Variation Three” is more overtly dark and desolate, with streams of sound flowing over the drones like sirens. The final track, “Serge and Maxine Variation Two” feels like the natural culmination of the album. The first few minutes are a sparse, simple, almost folk-like melody that give way to more layers of warm synths, calling back to the first track. The track is very pretty, but in an open-ended, fittingly “alien” way. It’s the sound of something mysteriously fading into the distance. The music has all the characteristics of an ambient drone album, but the stasis is consistently interrupted by stops and pauses. Where any other musician would focus on the psychoacoustic elements of the drone, Guffond seems to find just as much purpose in these small disruptions. The end result is a haunting, deeply perplexing record that rewards repeated listening.
