Berlin. Portrait In Music

Chronique

This sophomore album from mysterious East Berlin producer SLV is a quite distinct proposition from what has come before. While his debut full-length, 2018's Origin of Light, on Virgo, had ambient elements, it was in the main a propulsive, jacking techno affair, with most tracks aimed directly at the dancefloor, as were his EPs for Soma that preceded this album. Here, however, he has abandoned beats almost entirely for a tranquil ambient journey painting a pensive and beautiful portrait of his home city. This suite of relatively short sketches, averaging about three and a half minutes, consists mostly of synth, piano, and minimalist percussion on the occasional track. Vangelis is an obvious touchstone; another influence may be SLV's fellow German Recondite, who also brings a human touch and a wistful melancholy to ambient-leaning house and techno. In this portrait, the city is, if not actually threatening, a not altogether welcoming place, though it might seem so at first. "First Day in the City" has a gentle, repetitious, chiming synth figure over lush, airy pads, the beat nothing more than a gentle metronomic clicking, perhaps evoking the sound of the train on the tracks as it pulls away into the distance, having just deposited one at the Hauptbahnhof. But soon the reality of city life starts to sink in. The "Sky" is a sullen, lowering one, although the sun starts to peek out from behind the clouds towards the end; "This Cold Night" rumbles and groans, wreathing the listener in shadows as stars glitter coldly in the black, cloudless sky. "Forest Voices" whisper at the edges of awareness as trees loom out of the mist. By the time the "Night Stars" come out, it's to a melancholic, almost post-classical piano piece backed by rumbling swells that sound like waves crashing on a beach or perhaps wind roaring through the trees. There's a nostalgic aura that's like the Caretaker or Badalamenti at their best. The decayed, delayed synth lines of "January 31" are muffled as though by deep snow, swirling down to shroud the listener in a blanket of white; "Away" closes the album with a bittersweet glimmer of hope. The only brief flirtation with techno is the fluttering pattern of floor-focused kicks and hats on "Talking with Shadows." Taken all in all, this is a fine set of ambience that skillfully combines blissful haze with a cold, dispassionate, steely edge, and shows that SLV is about much more than just the club.
© John D. Buchanan /TiVo