Loess is back! And 'Wind and Water' is proof that their time away was well spent. As the follow up to their critic-favorite on Nonresponse, 'Wind and Water' simply put; is Loess' finest work to date. Having since escaped Philadelphia for retreat in the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey; Wind and Water is a meticulously focused reflection of these new surroundings while keeping echoes of their past haunts close at hand. The sounds on Wind and Water are both moving and breathing, and crumbling and decomposing, often within a single track. It is at times ominous and foreboding and other times hopeful and calming. It is within these elements that Loess finds a sense of balance. The album suggests a new respect for the two elements that embody these balances; the Wind and Water.

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Somewhere between ambient drones and drifting beat programming is the world of Wind and Water, the new release by Loess on n5md. The duo of Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman sought to create a record that paralleled the natural progression of creation and dissolution, and the ebb and flow of the twelve tracks of Wind and Water captures a gentle progression -- both airy and fluid -- that is captivatingly natural.

Seemingly a blend of Biosphere's gentle electronics and Chris Watson's environmental recordings, "Creshiem" finds waves of wind transforming into delicate melodies and ticking percussive motifs; while "Greenland" hums with the echo of bells across frozen tundra and the noisy chatter of digital crickets. Emerson and Pullman fill their organic landscapes with the micro-detritus of IDM arrhythmia, a laconic programming that seems like nothing more than the redistribution of dust and pollen beneath swirling breezes and winds. Squirts of bird noises are caught in the wake of a organ-like melody in "Lomond," a gasping, swaying song filled with the huff and puff of air through air bladders and hoses.

A small group of organs stagger about in a field in "Sonde," trying to keep in some semblance of time with the brisk percussion. One or two keep their tone poems alive while others shudder, swallowing their notes with reflexive decay. Melodies appear to be afraid of being heard, dissolving into inverted echoes of themselves before they are fully realized. "Talus" is a more forceful "Sonde," like woodblocks and a church organ lost in a windstorm, but the decaying quality of the melodies are still there. A flute, carved from wood by the wind and blown with those same lips, lends a Japanese flavor to "Veld," a Shinto meditation on the movement of tree limbs, while the deep and sonorous rumble of mountain streams provides a grumbling undercurrent to the ambiance.

I was surprised at how much of Wind and Water is purely non-environmental. While their source material and artistic inspiration may be natural, the resulting programming is certainly unnatural in its cadence and percussion. That isn't to say that Wind and Water doesn't succeed in evoking a sense of natural rhythms -- it certainly does -- but rather the efforts of Emerson and Pullman are that of restrained pastoralists. The sense of innocence here is not completely akin to Boards of Canada's winsome characterization of childhood, but Emerson and Pullman are more Thoreau-ean lovers of nature than Blake-ean advocates of innocence realized through experience.

The more I listen to Wind and Water, the more I think its sounds are akin to time-lapse photography. These recreations of the natural landscapes are time-compressed, days and years squeezed into seconds and minutes. These are the sounds the world would make if it were living and dying as fast as we were. In an sense then, Wind and Water isn't about motion -- though it is rife with it -- but rather, it is an admonition for non-movement. As "Dasein" fades out, crackling into nothingness, and "III6" glides into my head with its elongated tones (all the rhythms of the preceding fifty minutes have been left behind), I think, "Maybe, I'll just sit here awhile, still as a flower, and feel the breeze on my face." textura

Interesting that the graphic approaches for these n5MD releases appear contrary to their musical contents: Loess's uses a high-contrast, almost chiaroscuro style for Wind and Water's cover while Bitcrush's In Distance displays a grey image so faint it disappears when viewed at a short distance. Sonically, however, Loess's hour-long collection tends towards the middle grey areas whereas Bitcrush's embraces contrasting extremes to a larger degree.

Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman's choice of Loess as moniker is apt, as the term refers to a natural sedimentary phenomenon, specifically that loose, fine-grained soil distributed by wind settles into gently rolling slope formations. In addition, the natural dimension of the duo's sound has been enhanced by a change of locale. Originally from Philadelphia, the two currently reside in the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey, making Wind and Water seem an aural snapshot of their peaceful surroundings. Throughout the album's relaxed ambient settings, delicate tones and siren voices rise and fall like elongated breath tones, spurred on by gently clicking patterns that more often than not convey a subtle tribal character. The album isn't wholly laid-back, however. The atypically uptempo “Lomond” snaps to attention, with melodica accents darting in and around flute-like synth figures and percussive clatter; “Sonde” likewise belies the album's restrained persona with a marvelous dubwise flow.

Electronic elements are used in service of an ethereal and bucolic vision throughout Wind and Water. Naturally, Boards of Canada comes to mind when speaking in such terms and, yes, pieces like “Creshiem” could conceivably be a BOC production. Still, though textured too, Loess's tactile music is quieter by comparison and—“Talus” the exception—eschews the hazy, psychedelic quality commonly attributed to BOC. Frankly, when so many electronic artists routinely bludgeon with industrial intensity, Loess's understated approach is refreshing.

In his Bitcrush music, one-time Gridlock member Mike Cadoo concentrates on sculpting a deeply emotive brand of electronic music. Cadoo presents In Distance as a travelogue with each composition flowing easefully into the next. Though the pieces typically last between 8 to 11 minutes, they move through contrasting episodes and hence don't feel long. Panoramic in scope and live in feel, a given piece may put drums at the forefront first and then follow it with a lulling ambient section, which will then give way to Cadoo's introspective singing or perhaps an aggressive guitar episode.

Following a delicate introduction of rippling ambient currents, “Post” incrementally builds in intensity, eventually transforming itself into a post-rock-shoegaze amalgam with Cadoo's whispered singing (“I can no longer follow / I can no longer do this anyway”) enhancing the song's impact. An elegant piano intro then eases the listener into “Falling Inward” before beats move the piece into buoyant Schnauss territory, but its most affecting moment arrives with the peaceful stillness Cadoo nurtures during the song's middle. Desert guitars peal and synths cascade over snapping beat patterns in “Colder,” the tune crowned by a shoegaze howl, while a lovely vocal weave boosts “Every Ghost Has Its Spectre.” If anything, the album grows more heartfelt and paradisiacal with each song. The 11-minute “And Triage” opens in ambient mode before marshalling its considerable forces into a melancholic epic of guitar haze. Surprisingly, the piece then decompresses into quieter passages before an abrupt slam propels the tune towards a pealing climax. Here and elsewhere, Bitcrush's In Distance impresses with the quality of its craft but is most distinguished by its material's depth of feeling. indieworkshop

What a perfect name for an album. I'd heard of both Chris Watson (Ian!!!???) and Clay Emerson, heard some of their work (ie, Codec Scovill)… and was glad to receive this CD for review hoping that I could gain some insight into a more solid collection of what they've put their efforts into more recently. I'm not disappointed. This is a beautifully strung together spider web / estuary / jet stream of noise and ambience. And I'm really serious, the album's name is absolutely perfect.

Replete with beats and electronic sounscaping to surround (what at least sounds to me like) real recordings from nature, some of them reversed, this album is like a satellite travel over the earth… recording the mood, temperature, and activity across the entire biological scene. The songs build up, crumble into pieces, float back together like a stream meeting a river that floats into an ocean… or maybe more like a flattened desert sand that blows into a high dune and then is blown back down… I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it's something to the effect of the soundtrack to the natural order of things. Like the music that should be playing when a scientist finally discovers that 'theory of everything' or when someone for the first time feels really pulled together and ready to accept that everything constantly changes.

Of course, now I'm making this CD sound like some corny 'nature sounds' CD you buy to relax yourself while you read a self-help book and that's not what it is at all. After all, it's electronic music and there's plenty of completely unnatural sounds and collections of noise in here to say the exact opposite, but it's just the tone I guess that makes it feel this way to me and is my best way of explaining it.

When the first Loess release came out it wasn't that I was unimpressed as much as I wasn't really moved, and this I guess feels much more real and more about something specific. It's like watching things stand still, or lapse over time and just seeing how everything is for what it is. It's a really beautiful effort. For those looking for a more static explanation of what to expect here, this is way more ambient than what they were doing around 2002, in fact a lot more reminiscent of the Codec Scovill stuff, melancholy, unpretentious, and sleepy. cyclic defrost

Apparently taking their name from the geological process by which loose soil particles are formed into dunes, Loess (aka Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman) have recently relocated from the urban surrounds of Philadelphia to New Jersey’s Pine Barrens, a move to comparative wilderness vividly captured on this latest album. Indeed, much of ‘Wind And Water’ flows with a seemingly effortless yet inexorable pace that certainly mirrors the simultaneous formation and destruction forged by the two natural elements of the title. Constructed predominantly around detuned drones (both synthetic and derived from acoustic instrumentation) and downbeat IDM rhythms, it’s tempting from the outset to label Loess with the ‘sounds like BOC’ tag, as the poignant, sepia-toned productions easily call to mind the Warp duo, but persistent listening soon reveals that Emerson and Pullman are following their own distinct muse. While glitch-ridden, icily melodic moments such as ‘Greensland’ and ‘Cresheim’ could almost pass for something off ‘Music Has The Right To Children’, tracks such as the dub-informed, bass heavy ‘Lomond’ show Loess taking things into less charted territory, ghostly melodicas adding a distinctly human counterpoint to the meticulous rhythmic programming. Unlike BOC’s slightly awkward increased use of guitar textures on their recent ‘Campfire Headphase’ record, ‘Wind And Water’ shows Loess crafting a far more convincing and poignant fusion of manipulated post-rock elements and icily precise electronics than many other artists exploring similar territory. A headphone film score waiting to happen, ‘Wind And Water’ definitely deserves investigation. grooves

Wind and Water proves to be an apt title for this latest album from Loess (Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman), which has recently forsaken the urban surrounds of Philadelphia for the comparative wilderness of New Jersey’s Pine Barrens. Perhaps because much of this record flows with an effortless pace, it suggests the slowing of time that seems to occur once you move away from the city into the woods, your internal time clock governed more by the movement of the elements than the usual regimen of daily tasks.

While it’s certainly tempting from the outset to make comparisons between much of this latest album and the stately, sepia-toned pastoral productions of fellow rural dwellers Boards of Canada, persistent listening soon reveals that Emerson and Pullman definitely have their own distinct muse. If icily melodic moments such as “Greensland” and “Cresheim” could feasibly pass for something off Music Has the Right to Children, tracks such as the swaggering, bass-heavy “Lomond” offer a refreshing dub-flavored counterpoint, the addition of trailing melodica elements warming the brittle electronic rhythms with a tangible human presence brought out even more by majestic horns. Imbued with a wide range of emotional depth and sonic texture, Wind and Water easily represents one of the most immersive listening experiences n5MD has delivered in quite a while. Pasatiempo

On one of my recent strolls through the dictionary, I ran across the word foehn, from the German föhn, which refers to “a warm, dry wind blowing down into the valleys of a mountain, esp. in the Alps.” If Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman haven’t yet reserved this term as the title for one of their somber, stately compositions, they should really think about it. The two of them comprise Loess, a Philadelphia-based outfit named for (according to Webster’s) “a fine-grained, yellowish-brown, extremely fertile loam deposited mainly by the wind.” Mainly? Hmmm. Anyway, the duo’s self-titled, selfpublished debut CD (2001) features a black-and-white landscape of broken slabs on the cover, and the dirge-like music contained within matches the visual aesthetic — full of haunting, mournful peals issued over scrambled beats and industrial clanging. It’s good fuel for introspection on a rainy afternoon but too somber for frequent listening, except in the case of college kids determined to ignore warnings from the Surgeon General and other well-meaning folks. Five years later, Emerson and Pullman’s follow-up on N5MD picks up where that record left off, with another black-and-white cover (featuring cut-up images of trees) and a slightly warmer though still decidedly cool tone to the music. For fans of Boards of Canada and Autechre who find those groups’ newer releases too upbeat and poppy, this is what you’re looking for. With song titles like “Talus,” “Veld,” and “Copse,” Wind and Water is electronica for gloom-obsessed Sierra Clubbers. side-line

After releasing their debut self-titled album on the Nonresponse imprint, Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman (aka Loess) relocated from Philadelphia to Southern New Jersey where they continued working on their second album, “Wind and Water”. The album is a reflection of the period 2004-05 and their change of location and environment during that time. Often flowing and serene, sometimes fidgety and anxious, occasionally dark and foreboding, “Wind and Water” has a gentle but distinctly captivating presence. Bouncy rhythmic beats, glitchy percussion, almost hidden melodies and swathes of texture are evident throughout. Tracks such as “Brumal”, “Greensland” or “Sororal” are so beautifully ethereal and just flow over you, enveloping you in a cocoon of sound. On the other hand, “Sonde”, “Lomond” or “Talus” have a rhythmic urgency about them whilst still maintaining an air of ambience. Often, even the more rhythmic tracks slowly break down into calmer forms of themselves as the edge towards their close. With a nod in the direction of Boards of Canada, Emerson and Pullman have produced an album that shifts and flows at will, but they have done so in their own inimitable fashion. Well worth seeking out. exclaim!

A collaboration between Clay Emerson and Ian Pullman (who also work on the improvisational ambient project Codec Scovill) Loess are one of the few who can make real ambient truly interesting if even a little adventurous. A follow-up to their self-titled debut, Balance develops as a glitch-ridden soundscape layered with subtle melodies drawn out over ambient textures and shuffling rhythms. Within their form of restrained and hypnotic IDM, all the digital atmospherics present a finely tuned softness and space, gently engulfing the crisp clicks and skittering percussion and creating subtly layered and beautifully rendered audio drift. cold room

Des cendres de Codec Scovill se dresse Loess, le duo américain qui, en son temps, marqua les esprits et fit don d’un album unanimement salué par la critique (L’éponyme "Loess" chez Nonresponse) auquel 36 mois avaient été nécessaires à la réalisation. Avec "Wind and Water", Clay Emerson et Ian Pullman vont aller chercher LE son naturel factice, vont puiser dans leurs ressources et leurs compétences de compositeurs, la matière première de cet original travail conceptuel. Loin des clichés, hors des modèles, "Wind and Water" laisse la part belle aux longues plaintes ambiantes, éthérées comme la brume matinale, agitées de beats secs et fragiles aux sonorités mâtes et boisées. On y ressent parfois une douce mélancolie, diffuse et éloquente, à l’image de "Creshiem" ou "Lomond". A d’autres instants, ce sont les harmonies complexes et enchevêtrées de "Sonde" et "Dasein" qui répandent une clarté lunaire saisissante quoique troublante. Enfin, "Talus", le morceau le plus rythmé, se démarque sensiblement des autres titres par son caractère chaotique, percussif et hautement exigeant en terme d’écoute. Fascinant... S’il ne fallait en retenir qu’un seul, ce serait cet adjectif. Une grande et belle création électronique qui n’en finit pas de semer ses images artificielles, tantôt terriennes ou astrales, sombres ou lumineuses, dépouillées ou tourmentées. Comme le vent, l’eau, la terre et tout ce qui en témoigne.

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