Out of the Box is a monthly series focusing on seven inch records. It’s an excuse to engage with my collection in a new way, as well as to write about older records and genres we don’t often cover at ACL.
OUT OF THE BOX #21
Machinefabriek ~ Slovensko (2010)
Painting a Picture / Picture a Painting, a new record from Giovanni Di Domenico & Rutger Zuydervelt, has been recently released on Moving Furniture Records. Here’s a bit about the record:
Painting a Picture / Picture a painting is -as the title suggest- an album of two long-form pieces, swapping the working method for each - one takes Giovanni’s recordings and has Rutger processing and adding to it, while the other one started with Rutger creating its foundation (with manipulated sounds of the first piece), and Giovanni building upon it. This resulted in two meandering tracks that are clearly linked, like two sides of the same coin.
It really is a lovely record, please take a listen. (And follow the newsletters of
and .)So in honor of the release of Painting a Picture / Picture a painting, for this installment of OUT OF THE BOX, I’ve selected a seven inch by Rutger Zuydervelt, aka Machinefabriek.
The very first installment of Sound Propositions, a written column launched in 2012, featured Machinefabriek, with a repeat appearance under his own name seven years later for an update. When we began A CLOSER LISTEN, earlier that year, I knew I wanted to do a longform column that would showcase in-depth conversations with artists whose work I deeply admire. I wanted to find a way to talk about music gear without fetishizing it, without making it about the gear itself. Instead, I was looking for insight about the artistic process, into examples of a kind of liberated creativity that finds constraints to be generative. Zuydervelt was the ideal subject and set the tone for all that’s followed.
As I wrote at the time,
I can think of no artist more appropriate to launch this series than Machinefabriek, whose vast output is not so much characterized by any unity but instead by an ongoing series of creative explorations. An experimental artist in the truest sense, in so far as the results of his explorations are not planned or determined in advance, Rutger Zuydervelt continues to release groundbreaking music at breakneck speed. Never content to repeat himself, he has paired down his equipment, no longer using laptops or even his guitar, so long a staple of his live performances. Rather than work with the same tools, Zuydervelt instead refines his process, creating a replicable technique and identifiable aesthetic that is not dependent on specific equipment or even notions of supposed fidelity.
As an artist becomes more proficient, the number of tools needed goes down. The work of Machinefabriek demonstrates that process may have just a few moving parts, and yet can produce beautiful, complex results without utilizing expensive equipment or professional techniques. One thing that is often mentioned is that Zuydervelt is prolific. It isn’t possible to take in all of his output—even in an age of file sharing, Zuydervelt now has many hundreds of releases to his credit—however any release can no doubt be enjoyed on its own. Even so I’d argue that a hermeneutic reading of his oeuvre, taking in to account the parts that comprise the whole, clear the way for a deeper understanding of the ever expanding work itself.
The first physical releases I acquired from Machinefabriek were 3” CDs, a format that seems to have mostly fallen by the wayside, likely since so few have CD players anymore and those that do may have computer drives that can’t handle them. I picked up this Slovensko 7” probably the year after it was released on the short lived Eat, Sleep, Repeat label. A limited edition self-released 3” CDr version was released first, and while I haven’t heard those recordings, my understanding is those are more abstract field recordings than what appears on the seven inch, or perhaps they’re fragments that comprise the compositions on the 7”. The title, Slovensko, is Slovak for Slovakia, and so it shouldn’t be surprising to learn that the field recordings this release is based on were made there, in September 2009. The two versions on Slovensko would later bookend Veldwerk (2011), which also includes work recorded in Russia, Germany, Tokyo, and closer to home in the Netherlands.
The seven inch versions are not available on streaming, so I’ve linked instead to Veldwerk.
The a-side, simply titled “Slovensko,” runs just shy of seven minutes long, and appears to be comprised entirely of sound-collaged raw field recordings. No, or very little, signal processing or editing—perhaps just some gentle EQing—and none of the out board effects processing that one tends of associate with Machinefabriek. The result is no less engrossing, however, as Zuydervelt mixes and layers various abstract recordings, with various levels of intelligibility. The composition begins with a squeaky door hinge, before some rustling sounds take over, with the murmur of distant voices gradually fading in, before being overtaken by gentle rain on a metal roof, the calm upset suddenly by the roaring clamor of some sort of traffic. And that’s just the opening minute. The balance includes backpacks being unzipped, birds and insects in a natural landscape, more industrial and mechanical noise, drones, knocking and a door opening, and much more besides that is fairly indistinguishable. There is no patient waiting around for the event; this is the tightly edited and dramatic school of field recording. While the final composition has the feeling of a travel diary, one will probably derive more listening please from in a reduced manner, simply appreciating the sounds and how they’re structured aesthetically.
The b-side, again simply titled “Slovensko,” runs just over seven minutes, and is a bit more tranquil than its twin. It opens in medias res, during what sounds like a hike or bike ride. Nature sounds quickly subside as a wave of passing traffic washes over us. The pace here is more patient; while there are still plenty of sonic events to keep the listener hooked, it is slightly less frenetic and without the more aggressive or foreboding machine sounds and drones that occasionally creep into the a-side. That is, until the middle section is taken over by a low drone and the hammering of construction. Luckily, this segment doesn’t last long, and the voices of Slovaks reappear to ground us in place. Another dragging metallic sound appears, however its rumbling drone is much more pleasing than abrasive, at least to these ears. Here again Zuydervelt deploys his patience, letting the rumble slowly evolve and engulf the listener. The composition concludes as the rumbling slowly fades out, replaced with gentle crunching and shuffling of footsteps.
One of the many gems in Zuydervelt’s catalog, I’d recommend you grab this seven inch should you have the opportunity, and certainly have a close listen to Painting a Picture / Picture a Painting, available now.