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2010 is proving to be a musical year favouring quantity at least as much as quality. First Joanna Newsom served up the extraordinary Have One On Me, with sophisticated linear narratives spread across three discs. Now, for his first album in the best part of a decade, Berlin electronic pioneer Markus Popp has sequenced a mind boggling 70 tracks across two discs. Many of the pieces are mercilessly concise fragments of less than a minute. The longest track is still shy of five minutes. Does this confounding tactic have any real purpose beyond demonstrating the inherently misleading nature of top-forty statistics or producing a work that is near impossible to digest in one sitting?
Given Popp's already significant history and the long hiatus, it would not be unreasonable to expect something significant from O. Whilst Popp might be considered an obscure figure to many, his role in pioneering the tetchy, unpredictable form of music that became known as glitch made him quietly influential, particularly on artists such as Bjork, Squarepusher and Aphex Twin.
Popp is quite a serious character, discussing music in technical, theoretical, perhaps even scientific terms in interviews. In the early nineties, he was as interested in the process of making sound as he was in the impact of the end result, building his own programs and material (much like Robert Henke of Monolake, who played a part in the creation of the popular Ableton software). This time, however, Popp has opted to use standard computer equipment and pre-existing software, instead focussing on the timbre and expressiveness of musical instruments.
Whilst the floating, weightless atmosphere of much of O shares common qualities with Popp's previous work, the change in approach has appreciable results. The mostly longer tracks on the first disc benefit from the involvement of intricate, expressive drum kit patterns. These seem to be woven carefully into the overall fabric of Popp's at least partially improvised compositions. So important a role do the drums play that Popp often pares the music down to a distinctly minimal dialogue between them and manipulated guitars, as on Cyprus or Glossy.
This makes for a more direct, primal sound - one that is occasionally brutal or abrasive - and an interesting and fruitful contrast with the more abstract moments on O. The opening Panorama is lush and warm, whilst Beige could even be described as pretty or playful. Pleasingly, in spite of his cerebral and academic approach, Popp makes music that finds space for warmth and feeling.
The second disc is both dense and fragmented. Perhaps the album it most closely resembles is Aphex Twin's Druckqs, which initially seemed like an oblique collection of unfinished sketches but gradually revealed an inner logic and depth. Yet in keeping his ideas distinct and singular, Popp demonstrates a discipline that is austere and peculiar. It takes a while to accommodate to the blink-and-miss-it structure. It might be reasonable to expect the stuttering, unusual rhythms from a track like Pomp to develop into something broader and more elaborate, but Popp instead shifts quickly to the next idea.
Frustrating and confusing though this may seem, a coherent whole does eventually emerge, - one which emphasises Popp's interest in sound, timbre and texture. These elements often seem more important to the overall effect than particular melodies, in spite of Popp's recent assertions that he has become more interested in the fundamental elements of music. Sometimes his miniature electronic constructions sound like small gamelan orchestras. The music has a thoughtful, reflective quality in spite of its brevity. Popp claims he is not an "anti-musician", and given the lush, enveloping atmosphere of much of O, his claim seems fair. He is, however, very much anti-convention.
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