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Eli Keszler, "Cold Pin"
This was easily one of the most striking and visceral albums that I encountered last year, but it has somehow remained mostly under the radar.  Cold Pin is the end-product of a two-year labor of love, as Keszler leads an excellent ensemble in a very unique collaboration with a huge string installation that he built in a large dome in Boston (the Cyclorama).  It's an amazing and unusual performance, but the installation itself could probably have a very successful career as a solo artist: few things sound better than giant strings being scraped at by small motors in a cavernous room with great acoustics.
This album consists of two side-long performances, each clocking in at just under 15 minutes.  That may seem brief, but it is actually the perfect length for music as texture-centered as this.  The primary difference between the two pieces is that in "Cold Pin 2," the motors percussively attack metal squares in addition to the strings.  It is nearly impossible to tell which sounds are coming from the squares and which are coming from the Keszler's wild, skittering drumming without actually being there though, as man and machine blur together quite seamlessly.
Of the two pieces, I prefer "Cold Pin 1," simply because the creaking and scraping strings are more prominent and active.Those strings are honestly more than enough to carry the piece on their own, as the deep metallic scraping and humming is extremely engrossing and feels almost tactile.  Both pieces have a rumbling, physical presence that is both massive and mesmerizing.  Notably, the longest string that Keszler used is only 25 feet, which makes me wonder how shudderingly apocalyptic his previous water basin installation in Shreveport was (which used 200 ft. strings) or whether his planned future installation with 2000 ft. strings will cause an earthquake
Aside from creating an extremely cool sound installation that translates quite well into album form (a rare feat indeed), Keszler managed to also impress me as both a drummer and a composer.  His drumming is nearly as prominent as the massive thrumming strings and provides a perfect counterbalance to their slow-motion immensity, as he plays very unconventionally and with a curiously muted ferocity.  I have no idea what the hell he is doing or how he is doing it (I think he has some mechanical help), but he somehow manages to sound like a thousand pencils falling down a metal staircase.  Conversely, the actual composition is about as far from busy or flashy as possible–Keszler uses his talented battery of musicians both sparingly and droningly.  No one ever plays anything remotely conventional or melodic.  Instead, the trumpet, woodwinds, and guitars all seem to wax and wane together like a single undulating organic entity, creating a queasily brooding atmosphere rather than competing for my attention.
I could not be more impressed with this album, as Keszler and his collaborators not only do everything right, but manage to do it right in ways that I could not have anticipated.  Obviously, any piece focused so intently on things like natural reverberation, decay, and the sound of metal scraping metal is going to be a pretty challenging listen, but Cold Pin is heavy and unpredictable enough to be instantly engaging.  This is not austere, concept-heavy sound art: this is a vibrantly buzzing, grinding, and clattering sound world.
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