Fritch je jedan od onih besramno plodnih autora koji usprkos tome rade jako dobre stvari. Član je benda Skyrider, surađivao je s Kronos Quartetom, a samostalno objavljuje pod svojim imenom i kao Vieo Abiungo, radi filmsku muziku i ne pitajte me dalje. Elementi klasike, world music, eksperimentalne elektronike - Bach je mrtav, znači sve je dopušteno.
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Vieo Abiungo, And The World Is Still Yawning (2011) streaming
In isolated moments, And the World is Still Yawning reminds me of nothing so much as Mike Oldfield's Ommadawn, despite the decades separating the releases. Like Oldfield's still-powerful work, William Ryan Fritch's second full-length Vieo Abiungo album brings together multiple stylistic strands from different parts of the globe and turns them into transporting, acoustic-oriented set-pieces that in the final analysis transcend any one stylistic association (the distance between the two albums is at its smallest when Vieo Abiungo's “Feast Before Harvest” rolls out an ethnic folk dance performed with hand percussion, shakers, drums, and acoustic guitars). In the case of both recordings, the artists involved assemble the tracks layer by layer (through overdubbing in Oldfield's case and electronic means, presumably, in Fritch's). One major difference is that unlike Oldfield, who drapes his two long-form settings across Ommadawn's vinyl sides, Fritch packages his sounds into concise, three- to four-minute pieces. Another difference is that, with all due respect to Oldfield, Fritch appears, based on the evidence at hand, to be the more accomplished musician, technically speaking. Without wishing to stretch the analogy too far, it's conceivable that had Oldfield been born twenty-five years later and been less inclined towards crafting twenty-minute epics, he might have produced something similar to And the World is Still Yawning.
Fritch brings a remarkably vivid and vibrant sound world to life in the recording, with acoustic bass, guitars, strings, and exotic percussion prominently featured in its thirteen tracks. After “With Each Forgetful Step … Progress” sets the tone with a portentous, string-laden intro, “Treading Water” transports us to the African outback for a light-hearted, percussion-heavy dance. “While the Others Sleep” offers a ruminative, waltz-styled treatment, while “Drowsy Salted Morning” bolsters its haunting folk chant feel with the emotive presence of Fritch's cello playing (the later title track, a ponderous and magisterial snake-charmer in its own right, is similarly elevated). It's an album of many moods, sometimes diametrically opposed ones. In contrast to the sparkling uplift of “Our Racing Hearts,” for instance, “Insincerity Peeked Through Cloudlessly” finds the shadows falling and cloaking the material in darkness and depression. Despite their brevity, certain pieces nevertheless leave strong impressions, including “A Sad Swell,” where a woodwind mimics a bird's mournful cry, and “Still and Tepid Waters,” a too-short vignette that presents a graceful tapestry of delicate harp picking and plaintive cello melodies.
It would be hard to imagine anyone not opting for the deluxe version of the release, given that the sixteen-track remix set adds seventy-eight minutes to Fritch's own forty-two, plus the remix set, which boasts contributions from The Green Kingdom, Field Rotation, Aaron Martin, Nils Frahm, Tokyo Bloodworm, and others, includes two bonus Vieo Abiungo compositions (given the potency of its entrancing string melodies, “Thundering of Empty Promise” might just as easily have been included on disc one). In many cases, the remixes could pass for Vieo Abiungo tracks, so closely do they adhere to the style of Fritch's originals. In that regard, Aaron Martin contributes a beautiful, string-heavy intro before Field Rotation's wondrous “And the World is Still Yawning” rendering appears, its cello melodies navigating serpentine paths through a lilting bed of string plucks, bass lines, and cymbal patterns. Benoit Pioulard's take on “Drowsy Salted Morning,” on the other hand, is one of those instances where the remix becomes more reflective of the remixer's persona than Fritch's. That can't help but be the case when Pioulard adds his distinctive vocals to the musical material and transforms the piece into one that could just as easily sneak onto a Benoit Pioulard album without anyone batting an eye. Skyphone turns “Our Racing Hearts” into a languorous landscape, and even leaves room for an e-bow flourish or two, while The Green Kingdom does much the same to “Feast Before Harvest” in a serenading treatment. In addition, one-time Kronos Quartet member Joan Jeanrenaud adds her own considerable cello prowess to “What Lay to Waste,” Tokyo Bloodworm gives “Drowsy Salted Mornings” a bucolic, banjo-tinged makeover that casts a Balmorhea-like spell, and Nils Frahm refashions “With Each Forgetful Step … Progress” into a soothingly jazz-inflected piano meditation.It's only natural that the remix set represents a trade-off of sorts, as on the one hand the cohesiveness of the originating disc is lessened while on the other hand the variety the guests bring to the endeavour compensates for it to a degree. Regardless, there's almost too much music to take in on the remix disc alone, let alone the release in its entirety. As a result, the two halves constitute a more than credible follow-up to Fritch's 2010 Vieo Abiungo release, Blood Memory.Taken together, they show Fritch to be an uncommonly gifted composer, arranger, and instrumentalist. - /textura.org
The music of William Ryan Fritch is eclectic to say the least, characterised by mournful cinematic cello and plucky organic strings. It feels like the highly textural field recordings of half an orchestra. A low-key concert hall world music. Aside from a few moans or indistinguishable vocals itâ€™s wordless music that leans heavily on western classical musical instrumentation as its source and as a result sounds like nothing else around. He does possess the odd eclectic instrumentation such as a balafon (West African xylophone) or harp, though in the main weâ€™re in the midst of cello, violin, keys and percussion.
Itâ€™s Fritchâ€™s second album, though he is probably better known for his role in Anticon stalwart Soleâ€™s Skyrider band. This however is much more refined, a modern classical work with traces of all manner of influences. Itâ€™s not as thick or menacing as itâ€™s predecessor Blood Memory, though it does display that albumâ€™s precocious instrumental ability. Fritch plays pretty much all of the instruments himself and the music verges from still, emotive sparse cinematic strings to these highly textural almost Tom Waits style percussive stomps, though where Waits can get abrasive, Fritch is plucking his strings and scraping his varnished wooden instrumentation to generate his rhythms. In this sense itâ€™s quite textural, you can almost feel the sound. Though itâ€™s also immediate, perhaps even poppy. His ability to meld the classical palette with the rawer material, or create these fourth world musical constructions that sound like nothing else is unsurpassed, whether the results are percussive and musical, or more experimentally sonic, everything feels seamless. Itâ€™s only later during reflection that you realise how bizarre and unexpected the connections are. The real story is this manâ€™s precocious musical ability on a variety of instrumentation and the sheer artistry of his compositions. His music is almost stately, thereâ€™s a real class to the way he approaches sound. Itâ€™s a rare album of lasting beauty, where long after the music has finished you can still feel its presence in the room.
Early copies of the album come with a gentle reflective remix album featuring the likes of Aaron Martin, Upward Arrows (Part Timer), Tokyo Bloodworm, Kronos Quartet and Benoit Pioulard amongst others.
Whilst you can download b-sides from the album for free from here- Bob Baker Fish
William Ryan Fritch, The Waiting Room (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) (2013) streaming
Fluid regulars probably know William Ryan Fritch as the creative mind behind the genre-defying, world-music inspired act Vieo Abiungo. A preternaturally talented composer and multi-instrumentalist, Fritch has proven time and again that he has a deft hand for developing stirring, emotional, music that can be truly considered unique amongst his contemporaries. As Vieo Abiungo, Fritch makes a virtue out of creating dense arrangements that take on a veritable smorgasbord of inspirations, mashing them together to create bewitching amalgams of sound. His is an arresting and idiosyncratic musical vision, but not one which you would think of using to accompany another form of media. Fritch’s music is normally so bold and striking that its hard to imagine it ‘accompanying’ anything…it’s chaotic, mesmerising lines would be so distracting and attention grabbing that they would, one assumes, eventually overpower mere film.
At this point, it should be noted, that I haven’t seen ‘The Waiting Room’ – the documentary for which Fritch has created this music – and therefore can’t comment on how well the music works ‘in context’, but what I can say is that the tunes contained in this soundtrack represent a new side to his output. Gone are the dense sound collages of his Vieo Abiungo material and in their place is left a much more focused set of material. Tracks seem to have clearer ‘thematic’ strokes propelling them forward and it is as though, in creating this soundtrack, Fritch has stripped away much of the sonic busyness of his previous catalogue, leaving us with the distilled essence of his musical vision. For those already familiar with Fritch’s previous work, there is much here that remains familiar; unpretentious strings, clattering percussion, rumbling droney underpinnings, and uncanny melodies – but there’s something more refined, more mature (?) about this collection that gives it a higher replayability…it’s as if the listener can, perversely, find more to discover in these more restrained arrangements than in the dense layers of his other work.
It seems clear that William Ryan Fritch is incapable of making “wallpaper” music…every note here conveys an urgency and immediacy that is sonically engaging and pulls the listener in to its orbit. I certainly can imagine these tracks working as a soundtrack to an outstanding film (anything mediocre would simply be swallowed by this soundtrack) but even if you never intend on seeing the film for which this music was written, you should do yourself a favour and get the album – I assure you that a) you won’t be able to believe that this is the work of just one man, and b) it’s a stunning collection of music that you will find yourself returning to again and again.
- John McCaffrey for Fluid Radio
William Ryan Fritch, Kaleidoscope (2012) streaming
Just when we thought we’d heard all the great music released in 2012, another one comes along. To be fair, this 31-minute track was released on Christmas Day, serving as a present to fans as well as a celebration of the event. One doesn’t have to look much farther than the cover to see the associations: the star, the light, the red and green. The piece was initially conceived as the score to a live installation, and contains elements that we’ll encounter again on an upcoming album with Jon Mueller under the alias Death Blues Ensemble, so it’s a song of past, present and future, all wrapped up in one.
And what a track it is! This is Fritch’s best work by far, topping anything he’s done as Vieo Abiungo, which is quite a feat. The irony is that this is an under-the-radar EP, a hidden gem we are happy to have encountered.
Most of Fritch’s pieces to date have been maddeningly short; even in a five-minute span, there’s little opportunity to develop grand ideas. This piece affords plenty of room to breathe, and operates as a series of connected ideas, like smaller tracks connected with tape and twine. Instead of concentrating on a single theme, Fritch chooses to encompass many. The advantage is that the piece can be played repeatedly without ever seeming tired. Fritch connects the dots by returning to instruments later in the piece rather than to motifs: the string and glockenspiel segments seem like choruses, although they don’t repeat their previous notes. Soft, thoughtful passages are balanced by melodic, tempo-driven sections; avant-garde leanings are balanced by accessible lines. Big Themes emerge, then retreat, an act of great restraint. Perhaps the biggest of these arrives in the eighteenth minute, a morass of eastern strings that wraps up the Mueller section while recalling the work of George Harrison. Less than a minute later, the moment is over. Light refracts, scattering shadows. The pieces tumble over each other like brightly colored glass in a lit wooden tube. - Richard Allen
The indefatigably prolific William Ryan Fritch (aka Vieo Abiungo) returns with a thirty-one-minute piece adapted from a score he composed for visual artist Jessy Nite's live installation Under the Scope. For the Chalk Miami Beach project (presented in December, 2012), a large kaleidoscope was affixed to a street sidewalk such that users could spin it and project visuals onto one of Miami Beach's historic Art Deco buildings. As Nite's projections displayed huge swirling compositions of jewels, drugs, and colour, the Oakland, California-based Fritch would seem to have been a perfect match, given the kaleidoscopic richness of instrumental colour with which he invests his own work.
Multi-instrumentalist Fritch performed all of the music except for a two-minute section that appears halfway through and features percussion by Jon Mueller (apparently he and Fritch have been working on a new project called Death Blues Ensemble and are planning on a 2013 album release). Rather than being an uninterrupted half-hour work, Kaleidoscope instead includes a number of episodes of contrasting mood wedded into the larger whole. Listeners familiar with Fritch's previous output will be met once again with resplendent, full-bodied tapestries of acoustic shimmer assembled from strings, harps, glockenspiels, percussion, and piano, as well as less common instruments such as the sarangi and ehru. The work takes an unexpected turn at the thirteen-minute mark where the swoop of an e-bow guitar adds a somewhat Robert Fripp-styled tone to the project, but Kaleidoscope otherwise includes all of the elements that have distinguished Fritch's work in the past. In certain passages, a rustic folk character infuses the music's oft-dreamlike flow, whereas other sections are more in the style of moody film soundtrack composition. And though this latest remarkable creation by Fritch is multi-episodic, it culminates in a grandiose swirl of strings and horns that helps give the work a more formalized shape as a singular entity. - textura.org
Vieo Abiungo, Thunder May Have Ruined The Moment (2012) streaming
Fritch enlisted the help of award-winning film director, Pete Monro (Days Together) to create several short experimental films for the DVD. The films offer up thick psychotropic visuals and hazy moss grown memories that seamlessly meld into barrage of twisted imagery and nature based decay. Though the music may sound at times like the product of electronic instrumentation, the entirety of the film and accompanying album’s music was created strictly using acoustic instruments played entirely by Fritch, and recorded primarily using analog tape machines. At times tranquil, tortured, or trembling with quiet joy, Thunder May Have Ruined the Moment is an album of light and shadow, the human experience given voice.
It turns out that ambient music can be heavy. It can be thick and reverberant, particularly in the hands of composer and multi-instrumentalist William Ryan Fritch, aka Vieo Abiungo. That’s if this collection of widescreen atmospherics and deep emotive gestures could truly be considered ambient music. There’s a certain rickety saunter to many of the 15 pieces here, an organic makeshift percussion that’s gentle, often with a slight saunter, conjuring up a modern classical feel with that faux tribal fourth world that has marked its presence to varying degrees on his previous couple of solo albums. There’s also these inspired moments of gentle textural plucking and subtle striking of gongs, making music that’s barely there. It feels like a work of profound electroacoustic beauty, but closer inspection reveals the electro to be an illusion, and is in fact sourced solely from the acoustic – with Fritch capturing and using resonance and reverberation as a compositional tool.
Fritch is remarkably prolific, from film soundtracks to his role in Anticon stalwart Sole’s Skyrider band to last year’s modern classical meets tribal pop masterwork And The World Is Still Yawning. He seems to be endlessly producing new and increasingly varied pieces of music. This music too is remarkably precocious, he plays everything from piano to cello, to various percussion and exotic instruments and it is truly an immersive all encompassing environment. It’s not just his musicianship but his imagination. It feels like a world music record, yet the world is that of a musically literate multi instrumentalist from Oakland California.
Media artist Pete Monro’s contributions are these really curious amalgamations of video art and music video. Never really falling into either camp exclusively, they tap into the organic feel of Fritch’s music, natural images that are manipulated via layering and editing as well as filters and post production techniques. Initially it seems like there’s no real narrative to speak of and in fact it seems to reference VJ culture, often explicitly editing to changes in the song. Yet then you begin to notice these vague references sprinkled throughout and you realises there is a connection, yet it’s very much open to interpretation. You’d have expected images to bed Fritch’s music down, ground it, perhaps even constrict it. Yet there’s no danger of that. Like most good collaborations the relationship between the music and images raises much more questions than it answers.- Bob Baker Fish
Thunder May Have Ruined the Moment begins like any orchestral performance would, with a brief volume and tune check, some uncombed harmonies, the single drum shots here and there. By now we have all seen the “Our Racing Hearts” video: William Ryan Fritch on guitar, shoulder-to-shoulder with William Ryan Fritch on clarinet. Fritch on piano, Fritch on drums, Fritch on sarangi. Fritch on a score of instruments we would be hard-pressed to identify.
The orchestra has not added to or taken from its roster in the eight months since And The World Is Still Yawning, which was nothing short of a black-tie affair, rooted in traditional African music, but displaying some pretty genuine classical music credentials. There were splashes of the cinematic, of indie rock, and a brief tango. The numbers loomed large: 42 minutes of A-side material, 33 minutes of B-sides, and a remix album featuring Nils Frahm, Field Rotation, and Aaron Martin, among others. The Latin expression vieo abiungo means “to weave and release,” and the two strands braided here could have been titled Covenants Made and Covenants Broken. The album’s mood swung from one, to the other, then back again with metronomic exactness, and track names were unerring indicators of musical voice. “Feast Before Harvest” was optimistic and dancing, where “A Sad Swell” was stark, mournful, and still.
How does an artist – particularly one who does not sing, and who is so impossible to classify – differentiate one release from the next? Simple: by weaving more, and counting out more strands. By tempering the cable.
There is one easy hyperlink between Thunder May Have Ruined the Moment and Still Yawning. “Thundering of Empty Promise” first appeared on the remix album, and, appropriately, a slightly slower, gently reworked version surfaces here as the fourth track. The song, like all empty promises do, begins with the sound of wind. The silky falsetto whisper leads to the now-iconic string melody, grieving and bell-clear. The thicket of tuned percussion and a heavily-picked bass speaks to Fritch’s acoustic doctrine. Thunder is a place of snapping tree branches, not mere drum licks, and the listener hears the respiration of metal in lieu of vibrating strings. Turn to “Why Dogs Mimic Sirens” for evidence of the former, or to the brief, tragic “A Sun Shower” for proof of the latter. Or simply cue up “Rejoice the Blind Coincidence,” which demonstrates both.
The mellower pace of the “Empty Promise” reprise is telling. “Bleed That Rock” is shamanistic and slow, founded on a psychedelic drone and clad with dry gypsy strings. The track title may first seem well-trod, but with the red-count tempo and the granite block percussion, it works. “In Fits of Frustration” is a nice acoustic retrofit of the industrial genre, updating that graying art form with unkempt strings, lagging noise, and, again, a slouching pace. Lost Tribe Sound’s Kickstarter page reveals that “If things appear to have an electronic sound it is an illusion, and simply the product of unorthodox recording techniques. William once mentioned to us, it is often his goal to use absolutely real and recorded instruments in unusual ways to at points mimic what many would consider electronic music.” This explains the celestial echoes that close out “Empty Promise” and the swirls of static throughout “Dogs.” Mostly explains.
Thunder is not all languid tempo and Turkish violin (indeed, the only possible criticisms a listener could aim at this album would have to do with laurels, although that would be a hollow appraisal). “To Lay Still In Its Frenetic Surge” is kinetic and optimistic, alive with primary colors, primary instruments: piano, guitar, violin, cymbal. “Rejoice the Blind Coincidence” begins with a wrist-cramping bass line, then several measures of tribal vocals, now a fanciful chimes section — until it brews them all in an exquisite climax.
Despite Fritch’s youth, and what seems to be his quite-sudden rise to prominence, his acclaim is no accident. Still Yawning was a masterpiece and Thunder is every bit the work of art as its predecessor. The Kickstarter video reveals that Fritch has an inventory of material adding up to at least three more releases beyond Thunder, some of which Fluid Radio has already introduced. The CD/DVD format (with short films by Pete Munro) is available for pre-order now, courtesy Lost Tribe Sound. Physical releases will be hand numbered housed in artbook case, with MP3 and DVD file download and four bonus tracks. - Fred Nolan for Fluid Radio
William Ryan Fritch is one of those rare individuals who can pick up an unfamiliar instrument from a remote corner of the world and half an hour later be playing it with some astonishing degree of proficiency and probably composing with it, too. For anyone unfamiliar with his 2010 Blood Memory and 2011 And the World is Still Yawning releases, Vieo Abiungo is the name under which Fritch records his genre-transcending material. The self-taught wunderkind has learned to play over forty instruments in his time, among them cello (often the lead voice), piano, accordion, flute, and percussion, and consequently, over the course of the fifteen settings comprising Thunder May Have Ruined the Moment, all manner of imaginable acoustic instrumentation is heard. Amazingly, while current production approaches favour digital methods, Fritch recorded the entire album using analog tape and played all of the instruments by hand without the aid of digital programming.
As distinctive as it is, Fritch's music isn't sui generis. Steve Reich, for instance, appears to be lurking in the background of the ostinato patterns coursing through “To Lay Still In Its Frenetic Surge.” Most of the time, however, Fritch's Vieo Abiungo music sounds like nothing else than, well, Vieo Abiungo and, in true world music fashion, deftly collapses borders. To cite one example, the cello ululating through “The Milk of Venom” is a sound one more naturally would expect to hear originating from the Middle East than the US. Fritch is no slouch in the melodic department either, as the plaintive cello figure flowing through “Thundering of Empty Promise” attests. Elsewhere, the sing-song call of a wooden flute leads the tribal charge during “Why Dogs Mimic Sirens,” a particularly ear-catching exercise in earthy downtempo funk that Fritch renders even more arresting by working a tiny hiccup into its rhythmic flow; a bass clarinet's subtle honk and vibraphone's gleam also adds to the song's rich colour. A broad gamut of moods and styles is encompassed by the album, with pieces ranging from mournful dirges (“Bleed That Rock”) and pensive ruminations (“It Hangs Over Us Subtle as a Cloud”) to settings of peaceful uplift (“All That the Rain Pardons”) and quiet rapture (“Elegy”).
Fritch comes by his global music honestly, too. Though he's clearly someone with no small amount of natural talent, he's added to it through formal study, such that 2011 found him completing his Masters degree at the renowned Mills College institution under the instruction of respected figures like Jean Jeanrenaud (one-time Kronos Quartet cellist), Roscoe Mitchell (Art Ensemble of Chicago), and Fred Frith (Henry Cow, Naked City). And as if the fifteen tracks aren't enough, the project boldly extends into two other areas by complementing the music with a twenty-minute DVD of two films directed by Pete Monro and a booklet of artwork and poetry by Fritch himself. - textura.org
Entrenched in layers of intraweb fodder there lives the myth of one William Ryan Fritch. A man supposedly capable of laying waste to any instrument thrown his direction. Living on the fringes like Pulp Fiction's, the Wolf being called into handle any multitude of sonic situations that should arise, Fritch has added his unwavering multi-instrumental talent to more albums than we have the space to mention (most notably the recent Sole and the Skyrider project). All the while he's resided in the backdrop a sleeping giant readying for battle.
As dramatic as that may seem, one listen to his solo efforts and you'll agree they go leaps and bounds beyond any words to create some of the most heartfelt and visceral forms of communication ever laid down. That being said, he is one of the most humble and down to earth musicians we've ever met. It is our pleasure to introduce Fritch's newest creation, Vieo Abiungo, the moniker for his unique blend of rooted Afro-beat interlaced with traditional chamber music. Concentrating deeply on the emotional rawness and pulsing rhythmical drive that traditional African folk music is best known for, this music carves a new path by subtly incorporating more modern elements of classical, hip-hop, world, and indie rock composition.
A self-taught player of over 30 instruments and a film composer by nature, he approaches classical composition and traditional music forms not with scholarly intention, but rather with the curiosity and impulsiveness of childlike fascination. This unfiltered and organic pastiche of enumerable musical styles and earthly utterances is Fritch's love song to the deep-seated cadence of African music that pervades our most diurnal rhythms, and the enfolding swirl of sounds that we both create and occupy. - experimedia.net/
Concentrating deeply on the emotional rawness and pulsing rhythmical drive that traditional African folk music is best known for, his music carves a new path by subtly incorporating elements of classical, hip-hop, world, and indie rock composition.
Fritch has previously received accolades for his work as the instrumentalist and arranger of the experimental/post-rock/rap group, Sole and the Skyrider Band. Having produced two albums with them since 2007, both garnering critical acclaim for their ability to bring new sense and musicality to a dusty genre, this first solo endeavour as Vieo Abiungo shines brilliantly as a rare gem finally obtaining some much overdue daylight.
Fritch’s sense of space and discernment have grown considerably in the last few years having worked with film scorer Greg Tripi and composing legend Cliff Martinez (Traffic, Solaris), and serving as an extensive session musician to legendary producer and sound engineer Paul McKenna (Sting, Oingo Boingo). In December 2009, Fritch released a holiday EP titled Bare Trees, Gaunt Beasts, and Inconceivable Quiet for Sufjan Stevens label Asthmatic Kitty.A self-taught player of over thirty instruments, Fritch approaches classical composition and traditional music forms not with scholarly intention, but rather with the curiosity and impulsiveness of childlike fascination. Vieo Abiungo reveals new facets of this strong musical fingerprint by pushing his production and improvisational skills to into bold new territories. Fritch constructs a sound that avoids sterility and opens up world beat and classical music to new audiences. This unfiltered and organic pastiche of enumerable musical styles and earthly utterances is Fritch’s love song to the deep-seated cadence of African music that pervades our most diurnal rhythms, and the enfolding swirl of sounds that we both create and occupy. - www.fluid-radio.co.uk/
Vieo Abiungo – And the World is Still Yawning Remixed
Music For Honey and Bile takes on the character of a cinematic score, collecting a number of varied instrumentals that show an incredible range to Fritch's diverse talents. In addition to the composition and production, Fritch performs virtually everything on the album, playing piano, guitars, violin, viola, cello, flute, clarinet, sax, trumpet, marimba, vibraphone and dulcimer to name but a relative few. This is seriously impressive stuff, and chamber pieces such as 'Too Anxious To Dream', 'Shadows Like Despondent Ghosts' and 'Tongues That Chatter Like Pigeons' sound like the work of a large ensemble rather than just one man. The variety exhibited on the album is breathtaking too, switching between large-scale productions complete with multilayered strings and percussion to more intimate pieces like 'Eggshells' and the manipulated piano drone minimalism of 'Chewed Their Nails To Caustic Red Pads'. Highly recommended.- boomkat
In The Hairs of Its Sound:
Is an album of improvised works recorded live
at Jeannik Mequet Littlefield Concert Hall April 16, 2010.
Annie Lewandowski : prepared piano
William Ryan Fritch : cello, hammered dulcimer, percussion
Jennifer Wilsey: vibraphone, percussion
recorded and mixed by William Ryan Fritch
Songwriter and film composer William Ryan Fritch has added his unwavering multi-instrumental talent to a great many projects, including Sole and the Skyrider Band. Now, Fritch’s debut under his moniker, Vieo Abiungo, exists in a strange netherworld where modern classical, tribal, the experimental and film music intersect. It’s a kind of fourth world music, too complex and playful to be film music, yet too experimental, distorted and distended to be classical. It possesses a unique undercurrent that seems to stem from the percussion which initially seems to be working counter to the sweeping melodies. However like barnacles it then begins to sweep up other instrumentation which attach themselves to its wake. It can be a light footed and cheeky, sprawl out into a bawdy beautiful drunken mess of sound, whilst at other times feel tight, light and contained. This is really something quite different and spacial.
It’s bold and beautiful with a slight darkness that sits uneasily with the sheer precociousness of the man. It feels like anything can happen. His mixes are thick. Sounds reveal themselves triumphantly only to submerge again, horns, cello, turntable, synths, even subtle fragments of voice (or voices). Fritch clearly likes building order from disorder, a kind of messy hard won beauty from amongst the swirls and seemingly amorphous, near ambient wanderings. But the key is really the percussion, there’s everything from kit to what sounds like banging on soft drink cans and it offers an anchor to the music that not only prevents it from drifting away, but actually sends it a completely disparate direction.
A self-taught player of over 30 instruments and a film composer by nature, he approaches classical composition and traditional music forms not with scholarly intention, but rather with the curiosity and impulsiveness of childlike fascination. Fritch’s debut album for LTS, Blood Memory is an unfiltered and organic pastiche of enumerable musical styles and earthly utterances. It’s his love song to the deep-seated cadence of African music that pervades our most diurnal rhythms, and the enfolding swirl of sounds that we both create and occupy. Blood Memory was followed in 2011 with the Blood Memory Remixed album, featuring remixes from Manyfingers, the Boats, Part Timer, Children of the Wave, and many more.
Now Vieo Abiungo’s newest creation, And The World Is Still Yawning released fall of 2011 on 180 gram vinyl and digitally. There is also a deluxe edition of the vinyl available with a limited handmade remix CD mastered by Nils Frahm. It features remixes and collaborations from Joan Jeanrenaud (formerly of Kronos Quartet), Benoit Pioulard, Sven Kacirek, Field Rotation, Aaron Martin, Part Timer (Upward Arrows), Nils Frahm, Green Kingdom, Humble Bee, Skyphone, Sun Hammer, Cock and Swan, Need More Sources, and Tokyo Bloodworm. - losttribesound.com/