A few weeks ago I reviewed Lopez’ ‘Untitled # 275’, and concluded that while interesting in parts, I wasn’t exactly itching to hear the other 274. Then I spied it lurking in my review pile: a double CD by Francisco Lopez, containing 14 tracks selected from between Untitled #s 220 and 240.
The first disc begins with the sound of heavy snoring. It’s followed by an hour of barely-there drones and scrapes, whispers and whirrings punctuated by the occasional click and flicker. Some of it’s eerily atmospheric, although some of it is rather tedious. Nevertheless, Lopez does unquestionably have a keen ear for textures in sound, from the quiet bubbles and bleeps that babble beneath a soft yet relentless hiss on ‘Untitled # 233’, while on ‘Untitled # 231‘ fine, delicate layers of sound cross-cross over one another, interspersed with moments of silence. Silence – or near-silence – is an important feature of Lopez’s compositions, and he uses it to create and explore carefully constructed spaces to good effect. During the course of this longer piece, Lopez creates the impression of warping time, and also introduces top-end frequencies that really tweak the auditory sensors, and again pushes the frequency range to the fore in bursts of pink noise on ‘Untitled # 237’.
The second disc also begins with the sound of heavy snoring, and with the prospect of another hour of tonal manipulations, I wonder if the sound of my own snoring will mark the end of said disc. With a total running time of two hours, ‘Untitled (2009)’ is a long release, and it requires real focus and attention on the listener’s part if they’re to get anything from it. It’s not an album you can bop along to while you work: putting the disc in the player is a commitment, and disc 2 is, if anything, more demanding than disc 1, with more obvious juxtapositions of sound and silence and a leaning toward more prickly and abrasive sounds.
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The disc’s 20-minute centrepiece, ‘Untitled # 232‘ fizzes and crackles, hums and buzzes and generally disorientates and aggravates the mental processes. The final pieces continue in this vein, containing an array of rumbles, distortions, whines and whistles that are probably only audible if your hearing is of a certain standard – and if it is, there are frequencies that will induce discomfort and ill-ease, while registering just below the conscious level, like the hum of mains electricity or a dripping tap. I can certainly appreciate what Lopez has done on this album, but I wouldn’t equate that with enjoyment. Nevertheless, it’s an accomplished and dedicated work, and for that, credit is due.
Francisco Lopez Online
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