In a move that can only be described as "classic Heemann," Plastic Palace People 2 exhumes and recombines recordings from a 20-year-old collaboration.  These aren't just unheard remnants from the vault though: a lengthy and very recognizable segment of Mimyriad is reprised.  In fact, this can easily be viewed as a third version of that album–while most members of Mimir are not represented, their absence is not especially noticeable (given the nature of the music) and the two albums follow a similarly drifting, abstract, and long-form structure.  I think this incarnation definitely improves on the previous ones in most ways, but the whole endeavor is still as puzzling as it is revelatory.
Unsurprisingly, all of these recordings were purportedly taken from 1992, a period when Mimir was working on Mimyriad with new member Jim O'Rourke. In most cases, cannibalizing a previous album  and excising the contributions of some members would be an extremely dubious and ethically questionable thing to do, but Mimir was essentially a playground for Heemann to rip apart, warp, and reconfigure the contributions of others: he's more of a restless, eternally dissatisfied audio mosaicist than a Mimir revisionist in this case.  I'm not sure how much raw material is reappearing here, given Heemann's talent (and zeal) for processing and recontextualizing, but it is very hard to miss the lengthy xylophone, bongo, and mournful horn motif that was arguably Mimyriad's centerpiece.  Also, the length and structure are nearly identical: Plastic Palace People 2 is a single 18-minute piece that slowly drifts from theme to theme with long quiet stretches and dreamlike (il)logic.
I am fairly sure that O'Rourke was fully in "musique concrète composer" mode at the time of these sessions, as there is no recognizable guitar present.  As a result, this is a significantly more abstract affair than it was when Andreas Martin and The Legendary Pink Dots were involved.  On one hand, I am happy that there is nothing resembling a cheery quasi-krautrock jam here, but I miss Martin's acoustic guitar.  Instead, there is strong emphasis on ghostly, subtly dissonant drones, which I am quite pleased with.  Unfortunately, I am less pleased with the seemingly fragmented structure and occasional long stretches of field recordings.  While Heemann often processes and tweaks them inventively, my attention definitely starts to wane a bit whenever I am subjected to construction workers hammering, street noise, a subway, trickling water, or someone flipping through the pages of a book.  This is partly my fault though, as the deep, submerged-sounding undercurrent that contextualizes and colors these passages demands more focused and intent listening than I am usually able to invest.  This might actually be an album that should be exclusively listened to on headphones, as nuanced, slow-building intensity seems a hell of a lot like "not much is happening " under normal listening conditions (and parts that seem like silence actually aren't).
The main justification for Plastic Palace People 2's existence is the end.  Mimyriad closed with a jangly, anticlimactic psych-rock jam, while this album surges to a heavy, grinding drone crescendo.  As a result, it feels like a much more coherent and dynamically satisfying piece.  The catch is simply that it requires a lot of time and attention to appreciate that–this is unapologetically challenging music (though much less so than H.N.A.S., thankfully).  Naturally, I am fine with that, but it certainly took some effort on my part to fully warm to this and appreciate the evolution and artistry involved.  While I would be much more enthusiastic about an entirely new Heemann album than I am about yet another variation on my least favorite Mimir effort, I have to concede that the sessions were worth revisiting and that he has probably finally sculpted the definitive album from them (at least for now, anyway).
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