Review by Richard Allen on A Closer Listen
Published July 22, 2022
Published July 22, 2022
The exciting word in the press release: hide. Over the course of two seasons, Nicholas Maloney brought his equipment to the Port of Cork and the Marina Market Warehouse and Commercial Park, recording over a variety of times: day and night, crackling and empty. Sometimes, to avoid detection and to capture sounds unadorned by human interaction, he had to hide.
The ten-minute opener, “Quiescent,” is the sound of machines waking up. One imagines visiting a Skynet factory, ducking behind a carton, praying that one will not knock over an incriminating nut or bolt. Slowly, deliberately, the port is springing into action. Such a progression sounds like music, blurring the edges of soundscape and composition.
Maloney isn’t just interested in the obvious sounds; as one who hides, he empathizes with those that are hidden. Few would locate beauty in electrical boxes, but in “Volt,” the artist does exactly that. Every buzz and hum is precious. In like manner, he seems to enjoy the empty port as much, if not more than the bustling port. In such visits, he uncovers a secret world of sounds, trampled in busier months. When the people return, he retreats to the solitude of vents and fencing, wind and weeds, an eavesdropper recording what lies right in front of him while pining for what lies ahead.
Nature begins to creep in midway through the set, the occasional avian cry a reminder of place. The patient “Sanctuary” travels in silence before emerging in drone: comforting to Maloney, but perhaps menacing to others. “Follow” expands upon the spiritual theme with ship bells tolling in place of cathedral bells. “Eaves” is awash in life, the yin to the mechanical yang, a reawakening before the finale connects the threads into a singular, thriving organism. The port is more than planks and water, but wildlife and industry, a blend of biophany, geophany and anthropophony whose fibers, once woven, become impossible to extract.
The ten-minute opener, “Quiescent,” is the sound of machines waking up. One imagines visiting a Skynet factory, ducking behind a carton, praying that one will not knock over an incriminating nut or bolt. Slowly, deliberately, the port is springing into action. Such a progression sounds like music, blurring the edges of soundscape and composition.
Maloney isn’t just interested in the obvious sounds; as one who hides, he empathizes with those that are hidden. Few would locate beauty in electrical boxes, but in “Volt,” the artist does exactly that. Every buzz and hum is precious. In like manner, he seems to enjoy the empty port as much, if not more than the bustling port. In such visits, he uncovers a secret world of sounds, trampled in busier months. When the people return, he retreats to the solitude of vents and fencing, wind and weeds, an eavesdropper recording what lies right in front of him while pining for what lies ahead.
Nature begins to creep in midway through the set, the occasional avian cry a reminder of place. The patient “Sanctuary” travels in silence before emerging in drone: comforting to Maloney, but perhaps menacing to others. “Follow” expands upon the spiritual theme with ship bells tolling in place of cathedral bells. “Eaves” is awash in life, the yin to the mechanical yang, a reawakening before the finale connects the threads into a singular, thriving organism. The port is more than planks and water, but wildlife and industry, a blend of biophany, geophany and anthropophony whose fibers, once woven, become impossible to extract.
I reviewed some works from Jackson, Mississippi-based composer Nicholas Maloney (Vital Weekly 1216 and 1294), but he has many more releases under his belt. He recorded sound material at the Port of Cork (in Ireland, I presume), along with the Marina Commercial Park and the Marina Market Warehouse. Maloney visited the place a few times in different parts of the year. That was in the information, as it was not something I heard in the music. Quite unusual for releases on this label, we have here nine pieces of music. The length ranges from two to ten minutes. From his previous releases, I learned that he is a keen manipulator of field recordings, and I assume (but unsure of) that is what he does here. The unmistakable harbour sounds aren't that present in these pieces, which I think is a good thing. Just precisely to what extent Maloney processes his sounds, I don't know. Some of this sounds pretty original, but some a lot less. 'Follow', for instance, is a repeating sound that is very 'synth-like' and true beauty. In 'Volt', we hear water (perhaps) and birds (indeed), but with some excellent density to thicken the sound. In 'Flinders', we might have a looped sound too, but maybe it is an actual life event? I have no idea. Many of these pieces are densely orchestrated, but Maloney knows how to create some subtle variation in the music, and whatever it is that he does, it sounds like a fine combination of electronics and field recordings. (FdW)
Review by Warmth Highest
Published June 23, 2022
Rating: 5/5
This one really surprised me. It’s ambient music in the purest sense in that it cooperates fully with your actual surroundings. So subtle as to be almost unnoticeable for the first few minutes then the birds came and I was so sold. There’s not a sound or effect that’s not used in a unique or surprising way. Subtle shifts become quite startling. While in fact, it is a field recording and the soundscape of a place I still maintain that this is ambient music because it’s so engrossing and provides so much ambience. Yet in a way that feels as if it’s growing out of your environment. Thirty CDs only if you want a hard copy. Thirty. A certain album of the year and … thirty. The things we find when he make the effort.
Published June 23, 2022
Rating: 5/5
This one really surprised me. It’s ambient music in the purest sense in that it cooperates fully with your actual surroundings. So subtle as to be almost unnoticeable for the first few minutes then the birds came and I was so sold. There’s not a sound or effect that’s not used in a unique or surprising way. Subtle shifts become quite startling. While in fact, it is a field recording and the soundscape of a place I still maintain that this is ambient music because it’s so engrossing and provides so much ambience. Yet in a way that feels as if it’s growing out of your environment. Thirty CDs only if you want a hard copy. Thirty. A certain album of the year and … thirty. The things we find when he make the effort.