Autechre
SIGN

The 2010s have been a period of nothing short of impetuous experimentation for Autechre. After Oversteps and Move of Ten, Brown and Booth have released works that do not just challenge the basic elements of musical composition (rhythm, melody, form, structure), but convey a sensation of infinite sonic flow. This aspect is evident in Exai, in the two hundred fifty minutes of Elseq 1-5, and in the monumental NTS Sessions. In these works, the English duo reaches undeniable peaks of abstractionism, but at the same time, they move further away from the idea of listenability, due to the exasperating length of their creations. As if that weren't enough, the albums take to excess that deconstruction typical of the last two decades, giving the impression of a music that self-annihilates, reducing, for some, to a cerebral and self-referential exercise in style.

It is therefore somewhat surprising to talk about SIGN, an album containing eleven tracks with a total duration of sixty-five minutes. The message is clear right from the cover, created by the graphic design studio The Designers Republic: we are facing a change of pace, or rather a return to essentials, after years of mammoth suites and hardly listenable tracks. These intentions are accompanied by a resurgence of melody, a choice that makes SIGN an accessible album, especially when compared to the extreme sounds of recent works. However, the step back should not be misleading: we are still talking about Autechre, and the traces of their experiments are present, albeit diluted in a lighter and more pleasant atmosphere. We can therefore highlight the attempt to achieve, if not a synthesis, at least a reconciliation between the different sides of the band, an effort that in the best moments of SIGN can be considered successful.

The human side of Autechre thus does not emerge from the track titles (always obscure, impenetrable, devoid of identifiable references), but from the notes that pierce the noises of “M4 Lema”, similar to a melancholy and painful spleen. There is also room for nostalgia: “F7” is a piece that finally reveals a form, a crescendo that takes us back to the times of Amber and Tri Repetae. The feeling of calm after the storm is accentuated by “Metaz form8”, a composition that catapults us into a biomechanical dawn, with references to the futuristic-decay atmospheres of Blade Runner. And there are playful moments, as in “si00”, where the introduction of a dark synthetic bass creates a contrast with the “aquatic” keyboards that had guided us thus far. In the second half of the album, not everything works wonderfully: the alien melodies of “sch.mefd 2” and the minimal-techno of “psin AM” evoke that mix of boredom and annoyance we had removed, while “th red a” reminds a bit too much of the Boards of Canada of Music Has the Right to Children or Geogaddi. Fortunately, the concluding “r cazt” arrives, where the melodic structures, though laden with restlessness, offer a glimpse of some calm, or a timid glimmer of light.

“There Is a Light That Never Goes Out”, and the impression is that Autechre, notwithstanding two or three tracks, have produced a good album, simple and listenable as hasn't happened for a decade. Sure, it is difficult to read SIGN as a response to the dark times we are living in, and it is just as complex to compare it to Tomorrow’s Harvest or Monument Builders by Loscil, which clearly express (and with superior results) the sadness for a nature altered by human intervention. The “sign” offered by the duo from Rochdale perhaps should be understood from a sonic perspective, and can be interpreted as a willingness to start a different path. Yet in the melodies of SIGN we cannot help but perceive a breath, warmth, something that closely approaches the term “emotion.”

And in the (biomechanical) dawn of an uneasy spring, we can only thank them sincerely.

Rating: 3.5