Lusine - "Language Barrier"

Lusine - Jetstream (Hymen 2007)

Lusine – Language Barrier / Hymen

Sometimes we don’t want music with a narrative. Sometimes we just want simple audible atmospheres to accentuate our own actions, whether it’s flipping through a photobook, cooking dinner, staring at the ceiling, etc. Ambient music is a good filler of this void. It is usually subtle and simple, a lulling hum crafted with intriguing sonic textures. And despite the typically structureless composition of the style, there is still something that speaks to us, otherwise there wouldn’t be as much of an emotional response when we listen to it. It is a sort of vernacular spelled out in pleasant frequencies and programmed to mostly soothe and calm. Seattle-based producer Jeff McIlwain, who releases music as Lusine, is amongst the long line of translators looking to write his own manuscript in this idiom. The aptly titled Language Barrier is certainly a statement worth reading… I mean worth listening to… damn, I lost track of my weak simile.

Last time we met with McIlwain, the keen electronica programmers over at Ghostly International gave him the remix treatment on Podgelism, released in March of this year. He rounds out 2007 with an album more suited for headphones than the dance floor. We have heard a number of different approaches from McIlwain for his IDM-derived ambient techno, from the faintly experimental, early-WARP-aping downbeat of his 1999 debut album, L’usine, to 2004’s conglomeration of niche electronica styles (minimal house, abstract hip-hop, etc) on Serial Hodgepodge. Language Barrier finds McIlwain reverting back to glacial ambient, but with the skill-set of a producer who has been experimenting with electronic sounds for the last decade. In other words, a refined and reflective nine songs of placid sonic hypnosis made up of warm synthesized music and field recordings.

In an interview posted on his website, McIlwain reveals that he is often most influenced by contemporary artists. With that in mind, I would have to guess that he is listening to awful lot of Takagi Masakatsu these days, because he is very much exploring the same pleasant textures as the Japanese mixed-media artist. Building each song around fluttering melodic samples and layering them with soft glitches, found sound and delicate instrumentation, McIlwain like Masakatsu creates hypnotic grooves that find simple rhythms and concentrate on entrancing the listener rather than moving them out of their seat.

“Caught in the Middle” is the perfect example of the Masakatsu parallel, to the extent that it would flow seamlessly sequenced into Masakatsu’s 2006 album Journal for People. Lined with faint ambient echoes from a German airport, McIlwain layers twinkling processed samples that lie somewhere between wind chimes and an analog synthesizer. There is barely any structure to the three-and-a-half minute song, but it is quite moving nonetheless with its cascading frequencies. “Jetstream” is the centerpiece of the album though as McIlwain interweaves breathy female coos in a softly throbbing medley of echoing melodic pulses, faint glockenspiel sparkles, a feathery clarinet melody and a distant ambient techno rhythm. If Prefuse 73 would have combined the opposite approaches of his recent double album, Preparations/Interregnums, my guess is it would have sounded very similar to this.

McIlwain attempts a number of different approaches to his brand of ambient throughout the album, from the classical piano and slight glitch crackle of “Without Standing” to the more rhythmic, almost Apparat-sounding synthcapade of “Stones Throw”. No matter his technique though, it comes off matured, refined and elegant. With a decade of electronica production behind him and an ear full of influences, it is really not much of a surprise that Language Barrier sounds so realized. I have spent all weekend letting the music soundtrack different activities as I meander around my apartment; and even if it was just folding laundry, McIlwain’s soundscapes spun it into a thoughtful, emotional workout rather than the mundane task it should have been. Like all good ambient producers should, Lusine entrances you into a reflective state of pondering and relaxation despite the lack of narrative.