A MOUNTAIN DOESN'T KNOW IT'S TALL (WITH IKUE MORI)

This is an album that exists on the fringes of music in general. Even if "Morning Star" is your favourite Henry Cow song, I cannot guarantee that you will enjoy listening to A Mountain Doesn't Know It's Tall. I should temper one's expectations right away by saying that Fred Frith plays guitar on but a minority of tracks on this album, and when he does, his playing style is unconventional, to say the least. Only on the moody "Now Here" does he play some relatively normal harmonics and two-handed tapping. Elsewhere he makes his guitar sound, at various points, like a gong, a prepared piano, a rusty valve and practically anything besides what it actually is; on the other tracks he resorts to percussive 'home-made instruments' and all sorts of random found objects. Likewise, Ikue Mori plays no drums here and sticks exclusively to a laptop with which she produces computerized glitchy synth beeps, static, feedback and various noises so as to give off the impression of a dial-up modem gone haywire. Furthermore, all music on here is freely improvised and follows no discernible structure, rhythm or even key (most of the individual sounds produced by this duo are non-tonal anyway)

Accessibility is clearly not a priority of the musicians here, but for how supposedly unlistenable I must be making this seem right now, you may be surprised by how unpretentious and subdued it actually is: I actually find these noise collages quite soothing to listen to, especially the tracks with Japanese titles, which indeed seem to be attempts at channeling traditional Japanese music: they are more atmospheric and feature bell- and tam-tam-like sounds that are rich in overtones, and Frith and Mori imitate kotos, shakuhachis and shôs with their instruments. "The Same Moon Sometimes Seems To Smile" is another highlight: the chirping synths and rustling percussion sound vaguely like bird calls and a flowing river respectively, and give off the impression of a peaceful morning scene within a mechanized cyber-future. Similarly, "A Thief Breaks Into An Empty House", with its beautiful violin-like guitar arpeggios juxtaposed over whirling electronic glissandos, sounds like it would be a perfect fit for a love song for androids. The closing "Samadhi" is the only track on the album which I'd describe as disquieting, with non-distinct clouds of musical mass sliding in and out of silence.

I realize that this is a taste that takes a lot of will to acquire, and for that reason I can't really recommend this album to every progressive rock fan, but if you are open-minded towards noisy improvisation and wildly non-standard instrumentation, or if you are curious about what a fusion of the music of Karlheinz Stockhausen and Derek Bailey would sound like, then this is a worthwhile time investment.