I reviewed the first four installments of this now-completed 12 volume series a few months back, and now that it has come to its conclusion, the final product is even more impressive, documenting Szczepanik's evolving and developing compositional skills. With each piece having its own voice, yet feeling somehow connected to one another, it's a perfectly encapsulated suite of recordings.
The two "Forgotten Dreams" pieces, for example, take diverging approaches to the same loose concept. The first piece is akin to the earlier works in the series, with its sparse, slow reverberating tones that resonate like a massive organ, casting a ghostly shadow over all. The second piece is a more complex variation, focusing on the same powerful tones but boosting the richness to near-symphonic levels, but also casting them under layers of whistling winds and icy swells.
While the former piece had a more disembodied, floating quality to it, this is more tactile and concrete.
My favorite works are the ones that integrate a greater sense of rawness to the otherwise somber and pure tones. It first becomes evident in "Blue," which is initially a world of church-like reverberations that are reminiscent of Organum's recent "holy" trilogy. However, as it continues there is a significant amount of variation in structure and development, and a hint of dissonance and distortion clouds the ending moments.
"Era Una Mañana Gris" also encompasses all of the pure, tonal drama of the other pieces, but it has a rough-hewn edge to it, giving just a slight hint of grime to the otherwise pristine beauty. "The Embossed Map of Your Essence" goes all out, opening with layers of what sounds like overdriven distortion, leading out more harshly than the rest. However, half-way through the noisier passages fall away, bringing the somewhat obscured melodies to the surface.
Although it's tough to choose favorites, the two pieces that struck me in this batch the most were the most different from each other. "With Dusk Detained" is more textural, layering static and buzzing electronics with bell-like tones and droning bass. Szczepanik usually works with a sense of purity and asceticism, so the multiple diverse layers and crackling electronics are somewhat out of character for him, but work so well here.
The other one I come back to most is "Only a Speck of What it Attempts to Represent (for Elizabeth Wilson)," which utilizes dense, emotionally laden tones that are slow and meditative, almost overwhelmingly moving in their dense richness. In this regard it's along the lines of Please Stop Loving Me, from earlier this year, and just as captivating. As a stand alone piece, it's brilliant, but within the variation of this series, its diverse strengths shine through even more.
In a world that is becoming more and more focused on digital distribution and intangible "cloud based" formats, the 3" CD is the utter antithesis. It is impractical, offers limited storage, and is incompatible with many players. Yet, it also seems to be the best suited for this kind of artistic endeavor. I'm always a staunch believer that packaging and presentation are a huge component of a good release, and here that comes through perfectly. Each of these discs are uniquely hand-packaged within intricately folded paper, with inclusions of poetry and photos. It all has a personal, intimate quality to it that digital distribution will never have. Szczepanik and collaborator Elim Hernandez (who designed much of the packaging) have created something that is intimate and personal, both sonically and aesthetically.
While it was seemingly a testing-ground for a variety of new ideas and approaches to composition, this series never felt like "experiments" but always well developed, nuanced compositions that displays Szcepanik's skill. While it was sad to see this series come to its conclusion, it has whet my appetite even more to hear his future endeavors, since here it’s obvious he can try nearly anything and have it come out wonderfully.
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