#spoki

[codered-gotyou]

[gilgamis]

Spoki -  Ingus Baušķenieks (2018)

[thesunlounge]

Reviews 135: Ingus Baušķenieks

The liner notes for Ingus Baušķenieks’ Spoki compilation tell an incredible and mostly unknown story of artistic development and relentless exploration, starting with Ingus’ time making strange post-punk, synth-pop, and musique concrete in Dzeltenie Pastnieki. After a heroic stretch of seven years (from ’81-’87) and six albums with that group, Ingus alighted on his own sonic journey…one that continues to this day via his Ingus Baušķenieka Ieraksti label. From reading and listening, one gets the sense of a persistent tinkerer who refuses to settle down…a sort of studio sorcerer exploring all manner of old and new technology to realize the wild sonic visions in his head. Of course, STROOM’s track selection is sublime and focuses mostly on Ingus’ first three albums: Mājas Dzīve (1988), Klusais Okeāns (1990), and Burvju Pusdienas (1995). The sounds move through new age dub weirdness, dramatic post-punk, soaring new wave, and abstracted noise and drone experiments. And in a remarkable display of the consistency of Ingus’ artistic vision, there is also a song from his album Čūska, recorded between 2005-2010, that sounds perfectly of a piece with the rest of the tracks, each of which is at least ten years older. 

Ingus Baušķenieks - Spoki (STROOM, 2018) Opener “Ker Tu Esi?” is soaked in mysticism, with alien flutes flying deep into the cosmos. Ingus’ pitch-shifted voice moves between childish repetitions and strangely effected android speech, while massive drum blasts lead to nowhere, tambourines and guitar strums keep a pulse, and liquid theremin tones, zooming sci-fi electronics, and wailing viols intertwine with tribal hand percussion. Then in “Roņi,” guitars sitting somewhere between classic reggae and a spaghetti western underly the vocals of Ingus’ then partner Edīte Baušķeniece, whose expressive, layered, and at times operatic performance weaves midnight spells of enchantment. Pulsing dub organs lock in with light-as-air riddims and smooth walking basslines, while the mix is colored all around by outerspace glockenspiels, synthetic horn blasts, and Ingus chatting away in the background. And towards the end, as crazed arcs of futuristic noise swirl over the groovy flow, we find ourselves skanking on the moon led by some celestial goddess, with silvery streaks of psychedelic sound blasting from every crater. “Trīsi, Trīsi, Sikspārnīt..” ups the intensity as smashing industrial drums dance with wooden percussive sequencing and slappy funk bass. There are freaky prog interludes stuffed with otherworldly marimbas, cutup vocal fx, and wild drum fills as well as charging vocal passages, first with Edīte soaring on a shooting star, then with Ingus going deep and epic. And the whole thing builds towards this far out climax, with what sounds like an intergalactic kazoo solo pushing the song into the realm of weirdo 60’s psychedelia.

“Lidojums Uz Sauli“ begins with a spellbinding vibraphone pattern dancing and dashing around rigid hi-hats and a four-four kick. Ingus’ dreamland vocals weave forlorn lullabies around blasting claps and a thumping proto-house bassline flows alongside the steady rhythms, occasionally alighting on progressive high note adventures. Nasally spoken word passages lead into paradise island idiophone solos that surround the heart and soul with a bright cloud of golden light and there is a 1950s sort of nostalgia and romanticism present in the melodies. The track also leans toward the balearic, especially as gorgeously lush string synths rise and fall, bathing the mix in a colorful sunset panorama. Following this stretch of glistening dub and outsider synth-pop, we head into the stranger corners of Ingus’ mind. “Jelgava” features horse hoofs on cobblestones looped and processed into a bizarre percussive sequence as interstellar synth noise seeks out the heart of the cosmos. There is a kinship with Pink Floyd’s “On the Run,” including wild and thick filter manipulation, though here Ingus lets the oscillators continually detune from one another, adding yet another layer of controlled chaos. And the first side ends with “Mājas Dzīve,” a short interlude featuring cold percussive sounds echoing into some infinite subterranean cave while atmospheric drones surround earth shaking bass synths.

The B-side opens with “19.10.89” and its drones hovering above soft cosmic jazz from an electric piano. Synthetic cellos bring dark waves of euphoria and percussive tones drift through the mix sounding like gigantic ice crystals being struck by hammers. The twinkling ivories and their wavering chords and shimmering arps flow like ever moving starlight and there are shades of Tangerine Dream and Klaus Schulze in the aquatic orchestral majesty of the track’s synthesizer waves. A stuttering sequence built from two-note octave repeats anchors “Aizlidoja Kļavas,” with twanging guitars wandering a desert of sadness. The six-string moves from cinematic noir solitude to synth-pop romanticism and all the while, Ingus swims through some half spoken/half sung dreamworld, the vibe heavy lidded and peacefully stoned. And eventually, dusty claps bring with them a jaunty uptempo beat the fits in nicely with the hynotic basslines and post-rock guitar ambiance. Edīte returns for “Pasaulē Ir Tik Daudz Vīriešu Un Sieviešu,” taking a relaxing Sunday stroll along some gorgeous beach as tropical steel drum tones rain down. There are new age synth chimes and fragile piano chords banging away as well as darker passages where the idiosyncratic basslines grow into evil percolations alongside western soaked slide guitars riding through some desolate valley. At times, the vibe turns whimsical, almost carnivalesque, and there are shades of Walter Wegmüller’s whacked out Tarot performance as Ingus speaks out strangely into the void over dramatic swelling orchestrations.

“Mēness Klajumā (Abari Gani)” is the sole track not appearing on one of Ingus’ first three albums, instead coming from Čūska. But as a passage with synth wind blowing over lonely guitars riding towards a blood red sunset morphs effortlessly into a spooky dub jam, you’d be hard pressed to tell this wasn’t from the same period as the rest of these mad scientist experiments. Ingus’ voice is deeply affecting and charismatic here…a sensuality and closeness…while reggae organs drop minor key hallucinations. Dark and glowing streaks of massive synthesis diffuse through unhinged waves of fiery no wave fuzz guitar and then a wild drum jam erupts, with pounding toms in each ear and psychedelic walls of noise churning like a storm. The title track closes the collection out with synths like alien tubas and pieces of glass being broken and then melted and swirled into a vibrating liquid. A percussive sequence made of glowing crystals from another dimension generates a mesmeric cascade and delicate guitar accents are spread through the mix, all gentle chord beauty and delicate soloing. And Ingus delivers his most freaked out vocal performance yet, with strange time-shifting and pitch modulation fx sitting heavy over his charismatic silliness, with something about it reminding me of some of those crazed Chris Karrer vocal performances from mid-to-late 70s Amon Düül II.

[thesunlounge]

Ingus Baušķenieks

[burlveneer-music]

Ingus Baušķenieks - Spoki

Spoki (Ghosts) is the sound of an artist putting their private world to tape. Of exploring and pushing the limits of themselves and technology to realise the music in their head. As Ingus Baušķenieks himself explains: “My own world differs a little from my friends’ tastes. And - as my father said - the collective art is not art at all.” Arranged and produced by Ingus Baušķenieks Female vocals on A2, A3 & B3: Edīte Baušķeniece All instruments and male vocals: Ingus Baušķenieks Recorded at 'PIE LIELĀS OMAS' and 'BICYCLE SYSTEMS', 1988 - 2011.

[spaceowlkitty]

Hello tumblr :) I have nothing to say but I felt like yelling into the void.

[findepartida]

El terror del degenerado a que lo apunten en una lista es tan persistente como el olor de los ancianos. En ocasiones había además en ellos otros terror, un terror primitivo de semifieras: quien te nombra es tu amo; quien domina el secreto de tu nombre te domina a ti.

Anna Starobinets, La glándula de Ícaro, “Spoki”, tr. Fernando Otero

[findepartida]

No es que confiara en los consejos de las revistas femeninas; es que, simplemente, algunas sentencias brillantes se le habían ido colando por sí solas en el subconsciente, como monedas de cobre en una hucha de cerdito, y, después, de vez en cuando, resonaban con inquietud allá en el fondo.

Anna Starobinets, La glándula de Ícaro, “Spoki”, tr. Fernando Otero