Disquiet
On Disquiet, The Necks stretch their immersive, shape-shifting sound across three discs and more than three hours of labyrinthine, patient intensity. This is their twentieth studio recording and it marks the 39th year of the band’s existence. Meticulously recorded and sculpted, the four extended pieces on Disquiet see Tony Buck, Chris Abrahams, and Lloyd Swanton pushing at the outer edges of their collective intuition, building and unraveling hypnotic structures with microscopic focus. Present is the usual arsenal of piano, double bass, and drums, and all the in-between of sounds undefined and sources obscured.
The music of The Necks has always carried a profound sense of shared responsibility –– between the players, of course, in their utter commitment to the improvisational –– but also between the work and its audience. With music so open, there are profound opportunities to choose: what to focus on, whether to focus at all, etc. Disquiet takes this further: there is no particular listening order prescribed. There is no “Disc 1, Disc 2, Disc 3.” The music itself seems to stretch time, and this presentation challenges ideas of sequencing. The Necks, one may argue, are a mode of discovery as much as they are a band. Regarding the sound itself, The Necks’ signature restraint and textural depth remain, with subtle tonal shifts, evolving motifs, and roiling phases of keen and propulsive clatter, strains of subdued surprise and unmatched intentionality –– as ever, expansive and absorbing.
Disquiet
On Disquiet, The Necks stretch their immersive, shape-shifting sound across three discs and more than three hours of labyrinthine, patient intensity. This is their twentieth studio recording and it marks the 39th year of the band’s existence. Meticulously recorded and sculpted, the four extended pieces on Disquiet see Tony Buck, Chris Abrahams, and Lloyd Swanton pushing at the outer edges of their collective intuition, building and unraveling hypnotic structures with microscopic focus. Present is the usual arsenal of piano, double bass, and drums, and all the in-between of sounds undefined and sources obscured.
The music of The Necks has always carried a profound sense of shared responsibility –– between the players, of course, in their utter commitment to the improvisational –– but also between the work and its audience. With music so open, there are profound opportunities to choose: what to focus on, whether to focus at all, etc. Disquiet takes this further: there is no particular listening order prescribed. There is no “Disc 1, Disc 2, Disc 3.” The music itself seems to stretch time, and this presentation challenges ideas of sequencing. The Necks, one may argue, are a mode of discovery as much as they are a band. Regarding the sound itself, The Necks’ signature restraint and textural depth remain, with subtle tonal shifts, evolving motifs, and roiling phases of keen and propulsive clatter, strains of subdued surprise and unmatched intentionality –– as ever, expansive and absorbing.
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On Disquiet, The Necks stretch their immersive, shape-shifting sound across three discs and more than three hours of labyrinthine, patient intensity. This is their twentieth studio recording and it marks the 39th year of the band’s existence. Meticulously recorded and sculpted, the four extended pieces on Disquiet see Tony Buck, Chris Abrahams, and Lloyd Swanton pushing at the outer edges of their collective intuition, building and unraveling hypnotic structures with microscopic focus. Present is the usual arsenal of piano, double bass, and drums, and all the in-between of sounds undefined and sources obscured.
The music of The Necks has always carried a profound sense of shared responsibility –– between the players, of course, in their utter commitment to the improvisational –– but also between the work and its audience. With music so open, there are profound opportunities to choose: what to focus on, whether to focus at all, etc. Disquiet takes this further: there is no particular listening order prescribed. There is no “Disc 1, Disc 2, Disc 3.” The music itself seems to stretch time, and this presentation challenges ideas of sequencing. The Necks, one may argue, are a mode of discovery as much as they are a band. Regarding the sound itself, The Necks’ signature restraint and textural depth remain, with subtle tonal shifts, evolving motifs, and roiling phases of keen and propulsive clatter, strains of subdued surprise and unmatched intentionality –– as ever, expansive and absorbing.
