Oren Ambarchi
Suspension

There is a compulsive attention to sound in the tracks of this album by the Australian musician of Jewish origin Oren Ambarchi, born in 1969. In "Suspension," released in 2001, the constitutive elements of what we identify as music are hardly traceable: no melodies, or merely sketched and looped like in the first two tracks, "Wednesday" and "Volger"; no harmony, just sounds layering over each other as in "Gene"; rhythm, not even to mention. What remains is the sound, the real protagonist of the six tracks of the album and its 54-minute duration.

A sound derived from an electric guitar with some effects, but practically rendered unrecognizable: Oren Ambarchi demonstrates that the creative potential of this instrument is not yet exhausted. A sound always in the middle-low register, soft and abstract, but often tainted by glitches or percussive crackles. Where, as in "Volger," there are sound events that resemble percussion or rhythmic impulse, these are so stripped down that it almost seems as if Ambarchi has moved from beat to percussive bit.

Ambient music, therefore, in the etymological sense of the term: perfect as a sound backdrop in an art gallery. Or, if you prefer, electronic music made without computers, but with a guitar used as a sound generator. The key to understanding this work lies in its title: because listening to this CD means suspending our habits for an hour and perhaps even our adherence to the facts of life. It means making a choice between this music and the ringing phone, between it and the program you want to watch on TV. These are two incompatible worlds, there is no possibility of relation between them.

Are you married? If you press play on the player, you won't remember it anymore. Are you in a relationship? If you start "Suspension," it's like being single again. The music is slow and delicate, thoughtful and reflective, if you're tense it will calm you down. Listening to this album is a disorienting experience because it projects us outside our beliefs and conventions. And it is also a risky experience because with each new listening this music makes its way into our consciousness, little by little, and instills in us the doubt that perhaps we are on the wrong side. Be careful, then: if you start listening to "Suspension," know that this music will try to draw you in.