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Stroomtoon Acht breaks the maudlin lachrymosity with a blizzard-esque exhalation captured in huge reverberation capsules that widen the depth of field decidedly, lessening the dryness in favor of a moist-vaulted cavity. Threnodic lamentos of specters echo in the distance, the atmosphere is almost New Age-like, Stroomtoon Acht is dead-serious about its physiognomy and unveils this tendency after roundabout 90 seconds when crystalline shards rupture and unleash aqueous globs of bile. The atmosphere is still comparatively laid-back, but the reason I do not count this track to the preceding Ambient gang of four is found in the hectic frenzy and rash disturbances, a curious remark given the otherwise splendidly transcendental, concealed dreamscape. Stroomtoon Acht might well be the most dichotomous track: focused yet stumbling, mild yet aggressive, echoey yet jejune. These constant conflicts ennoble its complexion. Stroomtoon Zes takes this incalculability one step further and reintroduces the listener to an almighty power that has only been featured in the opener, but was since then decidedly reduced and silkened: deep frequencies. They stomp and bubble hazily below the chiming sine tones and the incisive iridescence. Resembling the quirky scabbing of insects, the soundscape is hued in stereo-panned crackles, metallic dark matter pads and supercilious hisses. The finale is called Stroop and presents itself in the limelight with abysmally low bass drones and slowly oscillating 80’s synth effects that are prolonged for the whole runtime of over five minutes. A Shoegaze composition which unleashes power drones and big doses of oomph, Stroop is not in the slightest bit camouflaged, does not appear in a dualistic way. It is a simple-minded – but not simplistic – source of evil, adamantly dark, mercilessly rough and omnipotent. Its super-perspicuous existence ends with a downwards cascading buzzing whistle. No afterglow, no sustain or polymorph finish, Stroop ends all of a sudden.
Stroomtoon II confronts the listener with its own harsh reality that is obviously hyper-related to its next of kin and predecessor Stroomtoon, but the hypothetical question of whether Machinefabriek really had to come back to the formula of unleashing high energy volts, vaults and waltzs can safely be answered with a loud “yes!” Although there is no long centerpiece on this album as has been the case with Stroomtoon Eén, the patchwork origins of the material are perfectly masked. If I did not know about the limited releases gathered on this album, I would have sensed them nonetheless due to the progressive arcs and stylistically grouped units, but had drawn the wrong conclusion. Stroomtoon II is indeed soothing and silky to the trained ear of Glitch-perturbed Drone washes and lightens up over its course, although this could well be a psychoacoustic effect. After millions of – thankfully allegorical – volts blasted through the body, the listener is in a trancelike state, possibly even hypnotized to a minor degree. This work offers a wonderful collection of vignettes which still feels like a dedicated album, and this is a great achievement. Whether the tracks become lass baneful or the listener adjusts to the layers is not easy to answer, but regardless of the perceived temperature and turbulence of a respective track, Stroomtoon II feels cohesive and varied. Even the tracks that lack the term Stroom in their title can be smoothly linked to the energetic leitmotif. Favorites of mine are the aforementioned quartet of Kreupelhout, Stroomtoon Elf, Stroomtoon Negen and the momentary closer of that string of tracks, Toendra. Delicately glacial, with crunchy cracks and celestial crackles, melodies and affability, these tracks neglect the raucous rawness of the topic and weave it into a transcendental helix. Even if Roman numerals leave a stale aftertaste in music-related works, Machinefabriek’s Stroomtoon II is definitely devoid of such trains of thoughts. Recommended even to those listeners who were put off by the elemental steeliness of the first Stroomtoon artifact.
- Björn Werkmann -
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