This latest release from LA's resident modular synth wizard continues Gengras's tradition of endless reinvention coupled with no small degree of tech-obsession.  Two Variations documents what are essentially three(!) variations of an elaborate and complex new patch that Gengras self-described as "two pairs of marimba mallets attached to a pair of dice."  While that might adequately summarize both the process and the degree of randomness involved, Two Variations still basically sounds exactly like a modular synthesizer album, albeit quite an inspired one, as these two extended pieces lie somewhere between sublime analog burbling and the antics of an especially unpredictable woodpecker.  Unfortunately, while the material is some of the strongest that Gengras has recorded in a while, Two Variations still feels more like a promising series of raw experiments than a definitive, perfected work in this new vein.
It is worth noting that, aside from the "marimba" comment, Gengras's own description of Two Variations involves an amusingly technical run-down of his set-up that will likely make little sense at all to anyone who is not already neck-deep in the world of modular synthesizers (the number of clock pulses it takes for a note to advance is modulated by random voltage from a Make Noise Wogglebug, for example).  On one hand, that is neat bit of information to provide, as fellow modular synth enthusiasts will no doubt be wondering how the hell these pieces were produced.  On the other hand, it goes a long way towards explaining why this release exists in its current format: Gengras himself used the word "obsessed" to describe his thoughts on this new patch and Two Variations is best understood as the audio notebook of a restless engineer constantly inventing new problems to dive into.  While it definitely sounds like music (often very good music, in fact), the content of this release does not feel like the work of a composer honing an idea to perfection.  Rather, it feels like Gengras made his conceptualized patch a reality, got immediately bored, and decided to see how he could warp it further.  Then he got bored again and decided to see how he could warp that further.  Each new stage gets further and further away from the original patch's melodic hooks, with a definite emphasis on getting more unusual rather than on getting stronger or more listenable.
Another factor that plays a large role in the shaping of Two Variations is its format: while available digitally, it was released in physical form as a 68-minute cassette.  That, of course, means that each "variation" needed to be roughly the same length.  It also means that the length was dictated by the longest (and most recent) piece, "04.10.15," a soundboard recording of a live performance.  As a result, the first variation ("03.06.15") is actually two earlier run-throughs of the patch mashed together into a single lengthy piece.  That is somewhat frustrating, as the first run-through is both the shortest and arguably the best of the lot.  While not quite as texturally and rhythmically adventurous as what follows, the first nine minutes of "03.06.15" are a beautifully intricate lattice of plinking and twinkling minor key arpeggios over a warm bass note progression.  Everything is both crystal-clear and appealingly melodic.
All of that goes away in the much longer second half of the piece, which transforms into something a bit more woozy and submerged-sounding.  It is not bad, but it is almost three times as long as its superior predecessor, which is far too long for a piece that does little more than amiably burble and bubble along.  The patch naturally undergoes yet another radical transformation for the impressively bizarre and epic "04.10.15," which mostly eschews melody in favor of something resembling a stuttering, randomized marimba performance in a large, reverberation-friendly space.  Unlike "03.06.15," however, there is some genuine and significant transformation, as a couple of other patches turn up to fleetingly morph the piece into something resembling a dense, slowed-down, and wildly chromatic organ solo followed by a foray into roiling Kosmische psychedelia.
All of that basically adds up to a mixed bag of an album, which I suppose is perfectly fine if cassette releases are viewed as a place to document experiments and test fresh ideas between more formal albums.  Viewed in that light, Two Variations' flaws are mostly inherent ones, both for the format and for the instrumentation: aside from the too-brief opening piece, everything about Two Variations feels naggingly overlong and underedited.  Also, as is generally the case with "live" modular synthesizer performances, each piece is essentially the same idea being endlessly tweaked until Gengras decides that it has gone on long enough.  Granted, "04.10.15" actually contains several different patches, but they always feel like an unrelated interlude being dropped into the middle of a piece rather than a satisfying compositional evolution.  Given those fundamental restraints and the caveat that this is no doubt intended for a rather niche audience, however, Two Variations actually has quite a lot going for it.  While I still miss the lush beauty of Gengras's Moog years, this is an admirably wild and adventurous departure from the more New Age-influenced Ishi and an appealingly deep and longform expansion upon the promise of New Process Music.  In short, there is some legitimately inspired material here, but this is not yet the ideal presentation for it.  Hopefully, that will come later and Gengras's next album will distill these ideas to perfection...unless an even newer process seizes his imagination before he has a chance to get to it, which is (of course) a very legitimate danger.
 
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