Ephre presents a collaboration ep from Bartosz Dziadosz (Pleq) and Mikel Lauki. this ep consists of a single longform piece which moves through several mournful, atmospheric sections. the arching melodies and harmonics reveal themselves further over time, rising in and out of submerged bass notes and fizzing field recordings. together, these two artists both have links to drone music and electronica, something which one can hear in their collaboration.
Pleq is a prolific recording musician and has previous releases on Basses Frequencies, Progressive Form, u-Cover and so on. Mikel Lauki lives and works in Barcelona as a freelance sound technician and composer, sometimes working under the pseudonyms of f.ex. and Lupus.
released on Ephre Imprint
written and produced by Bartosz Diadosz and Mikel Lauki.
original photograph by Sdroie
artwork design by Urtzi Ziarsolo
The ever-sociable Dziadosz certainly likes to play with others, as here we find him collaborating again, this time with Mikel Lauki, a Barcelona-based sound technician and composer who also operates under the pseudonyms f.ex. and Lupus. The Gravity Lens consists of a single, twenty-one-minute setting that hews more to the deeply atmospheric and textural style one generally associates with Dziadosz’s Pleq project. That being said, the piece makes a strong emotional impact, in large part due to the string melodies that surface amidst the piano plucks and electronic textures. Though it’s presented as a singular piece, it’s also episodic, with multiple sections appearing along the way. At the nine-minute mark, keening strings swell into a crystalline mass that’s quite lovely, until they’re swept away by an episode of field recordings train clatter, fizzing vapours, and sparse piano accents. Heard next to the concise song-styled settings of My Piano is Broken, The Gravity Lens plays like an explorative exercise in meditative moodscaping characterized by the incessant ebb-and-flow of instrument fragments and noise textures. In keeping with Lauki’s professed love for contemporary classic music, The Gravity Lens also exudes an overall classical feel that’s matched by an equally heavy emphasis on electronic soundsculpting.
More atmospheric music, via one piece that lasts twenty-one minutes, comes from Bartosz Dziadosz, also known as Pleq and Mikel Lauki. I assume this was recorded through the use of mail/e-mail/file sharing and it moves through various sections, rather than being one large clouded sound. I think perhaps guitars, electronics and field recordings were harmed in this recording. Perhaps a keyboard of some kind. These two men move nicely along their material, which moves from the abstract to something more melodic. Also perhaps not the most innovative music, but alike StringStrang executed with great care for the finer sonic details.
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The Polish electronic/experimental artist Bartosz Dziadosz aka Pleq seem to be a relatively busy producer these days, recently not only dropping exciting, new collaboration projects, but also the incredibly stunning music video for My Piano Is Broken (Rain Again) (with Anna Rose Carter) below, made my no other than master of the arts Volkan Ergen. Pleq’s newest project however entitled ‘The Gravity Lens’ is a collaboration between himself and Barcelona based Mikel Lauki, resulting in a 21-minute long cinematic ambient/drone track evolving from a lush dream into a frightening nightmare of a dying city — much of it thanks to those fizzing field recordings.
The CDR is limited to 50 physical copies only which can be ordered right here, while you can grab the EP for an affordable price via bandcamp.
Pleq and Lauki – The Gravity Lens
Though they have never worked together (as far as I know), there’s a remarkable resemblance between Pleq (Bartosz Dziadosz from Poland) and Machinefabriek(Rutger Zuydervelt from Holland). Both are very prolific artists (their discographies can easily fill a single blog), not afraid to combine gritty electronics with aesthetic acoustic sounds and field recordings, and both are collaborating with a surprising array of adventurous artists.
On “The Gravity Lens“, Pleq teams up with Lauki (Barcelona), to create a cinematographic “single longform piece which moves through several mournful, atmospheric sections. The arching melodies and harmonics reveal themselves further over time, rising in and out of submerged bass notes and fizzing field recordings.”
I’ve heard Pleq in many different formats. This one, “The Gravity Lens” may be one of my personal favorites from him. Usually Pleq deals with classical in a rather playful manner, oftentimes through glitching, minor effects, and so forth. On “The Gravity Lens” Pleq and Lauki create an environment which teems with life and sounds like nothing else Pleq’s done before.
Twenty minutes float by in nebulous clouds of drone. Different elements of drone can be explored, from classically based (Pleq’s forte) to near-noise assault. Some movements get a bit aggressive, surprisingly so, particularly around the halfway mark. I’ve never actually heard any Pleq-related project get this intense, but I welcome it. Perhaps it is Lauki (his partner in crime) who is responsible for this harsher sound. Even at the most intense level Pleq’s classical construction lingers underneath, giving the section a particularly powerful feel.
Classical elements do appear within the piece, over and over again. Rather than being the focus point they are merely a structure for the piece as a whole. Piano comes into view occasionally to offer some respite from the heavier sounds. I think the drones and classical structure work well together. Don’t think Stars of the Lid think more along the lines of Tim Hecker’s gauzy sounds.
“The Gravity Lens” did everything a good drone record should do: it has structure, builds, and varying levels of intensity. Pleq and Lauki create quite an experience.
Еще один необычный релиз от Bartosz Dziadosz (Pleq) на этот раз в компании с Mikel Lauki из Испании, с именем которого я сталкиваюсь впервые, но уже готов смело приписать ему сверхспособности благотворного влияния на других музыкантов. Иначе мне будет трудно объяснить те стилистические метаморфозы, что выгодно отличают данный альбом от сольных работ Pleq, которого здесь не то что бы совсем не узнать (это было бы даже подозрительно неправдоподобно), но вместе с тем невозможно и спутать ни с одним из его предыдущих дисков. Весь альбом состоит из одного единственного трека длительностью чуть более 20 минут, зато столь ярко и убедительно выполненного, что он словно бы сам собой невольно оказывается в своего рода виртуальном списке претендентов на звание “сюрприз года”, который в действительности появится примерно через месяц (и даже не один), когда придет пора традиционно-новогодних итоговых топ-10 листов. Хотелось бы надеяться, что музыканты не успокоятся на достигнутом и обязательно запишут полноформатный совместный диск.