This vinyl only release is the work of Ann Matthews and it is a hazy mix of childlike experimentation, a far cry from her usual work with Ectogram. She discards any of the usual approaches from her day job and explores her methods of songwriting and musicianship from a very different angle. Although initially difficult to digest, the music here is a wonderful mix of disintegrated pop and primal improvisation.
After delving under its surface, Brocken Spectre is a complicated album. On one hand, the songs do not rely on complex arrangements or even straightforward verse and chorus structures. Matthews instead pushes in another direction entirely, taking a looser approach to song structure. Her idiosyncratic style permeates the entire album, making it first appear self-indulgent and difficult to an outsider. The album was a blur for my first few listening sessions, finding a foothold within the music was a hard task even though I am familiar with Matthews’ work in Ectogram. However, with time I have come to appreciate (although not fully understand) Matthews’ approach. Brocken Spectre is an audio parallel of automatic writing. Her flow of consciousness take on recording brings together ideas that are strange but wonderful.
The first side of this LP is both familiar and alienating; Matthews’ voice instantly recognizable but the unusual playing style and frankly surreal mix (great use of stereo separation and creation of a 3D environment with these sounds) make the songs feel more intimidating than they should be. “Anomic Recipe” and “Know Your Vessels” both have an endearingly peculiar vibe. Contrary to these pieces, the end of side A features the stunning “Tony Wilson,” which shows Matthews at her most infectious. The eastern influence making the music feel light and the presence of a distinct beat drives the song. It sticks out amongst the other songs on Brocken Spectre as Matthews deviates from the open structures she adopts on most of other pieces.
Things get weirder on side B but at this point I am firmly in Matthews’ world and can appreciate the surroundings far more easily. The clarinet on “Eve’s Drop” sounds like some unhappy creature from a fairy tale; slowly it becomes enchanted by Matthews’ singing and the beast is calmed. Elsewhere, Matthews employs the click of a Biro pen and the sound of rocks being hit together to drive “Corn Curl.” While such odd instrumentation is expected from someone who has worked with Faust in the past, her use of these and other usually non-musical sources never seem contrived. I cannot help but feel that Matthews is in love with sound.
Brocken Spectre is self-indulgent and lacks focus. Yet although these notions would normally be negative criticisms, this serves more as a warning to lazy listeners than a deterrent to all listeners. Matthews has moved away from her comfort zone and made something very personal. Not everyone will get it but sometimes not getting it is what makes an album work. In this case, I certainly do not get it but I enjoy it nonetheless.
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