Roel Meelkop is best-known as one-third of the long-standing (and arguably seminal) electro-acoustic improvisation ensemble Kapotte Muziek. He is also a member of THU20 and Goem and has worked with Merzbow, Thurston Moore, Asmus Tietchens, and many other experimental luminaries. This, his first release for Norway's zang:records, is a foray into high-concept sound-collages composed largely of field recordings.
The central premise of An Ear For Numbers is the juxtaposition of field recordings of large "outside" spaces (such as the ocean) with small "inside" spaces (like the inside of Roel's mouth). Furthermore, Meelkop has "translated these qualities into music, within a context of numerics, relating to the length of the individual tracks." The role of numbers is not at all immediately apparent, unfortunately, and I suspect that even a gifted cryptographer would be hard-pressed to explain the significance of why the five-second-long "Track Four" seems to consist entirely of one click.
The source material is largely non-musical: most tracks are dominated by whines, clatters, pops, scapes, and flutters. This is not inherently a bad thing, but it is rare for them to layer intriguingly or create a lasting texture. Sounds abruptly appear and disappear and a unifying context is frustratingly infrequent. Rhythm is also an atypical component, but Meelkop does have a knack for echoey subterranean throbs and drones: they characterize all of the album's most compelling tracks.
I found the album to be ungratifyingly bloodless and academic as a whole but there were moments of genuine inspiration buried within. Track #2 contains a striking and unexpected interlude that sounds like a mournful string ensemble playing underwater. Built on a deep, stuttering bass line, track #8 builds and evolves to a subtle crescendo as it gradually intertwines with feedback (which has an enormously heightened impact because as a listener I am quite starved for repetition and structure by this point).
The problem lies primarily with the medium itself. First of all, listening to An Ear For Numbers without headphones is nearly identical to sitting in a room with a refrigerator and an open window. Secondly, this is not compelling without a visual component of some sort. Meelkop himself should be well-aware of this, as his parent group (Kapotte Muziek) conspicuously avoids studio recordings altogether. Watching musicians improvise collages from rocks and debris is an entirely different experience than sitting in the living room listening to the inside of Roel Meelkop's mouth.
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