A.S. by Bionulor


Bionulor | A.S.
Oniron (CD/DL)

This is Polish sound artist/actor/educator Sebastian Banaszczyk‘s eighth full-length since 2009 and under the moniker Bionulor and it would seem this is dedicated to source material of classical composer Alexander Scriabin or here simply A.S. And just as he has in work of the past dedicated his recording to other artists (Shakespeare, Burroughs, etc.) on this record he employs a style referred to as “100% sound recycling” – and I will try and find evidence of this as he describes as “every track is created solely on the basis of processing only one sample, deriving of a specially selected source sound, without any additional sounds or instruments.

Opening with Rêverie a gilded synth flows like dappled light streaming through thin draped layers. The wavy stop/starts are almost like foot-pumping an organ, there’s something quite physical about the making of the free-and-easy harmony. This style continues into Nocturne, but the track is even more minimal and abstract, utilizing a cool comb and echo effect alongside a sweet piano riff that dances around abstractions. It’s so engaging, and even though the setting is quite ambient in timbre, the arrangement is slightly displaced and evocative.

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Elsewhere the tones float and trickle with hazy delay and candied contortions. It takes Ballet acoustique nearly forty minutes to warm from silence, and even then its a ghostly passage of shadows and faint intermittent chords the become saturated in the dark backdrop. It is a slow go that is more of an introspective work than others here, and that theme continues into Poème. A good long look inward, pensive like the moments between a grandfather clock chiming at midday.

Once Poème 2 opens there’s a steely pitch and illuminated alien tendrils poking from the core. It’s a quirky sound set in a sci-fi atmosphere, that breathes in and out into Miniature. It’s alive! And this active bellows, with jewel-like accented micro electronics will have you lost in thought in no time. So subtle as it moves up and down in its own stages of metamorphosis. As the singularity of Élégie materializes is slithers and jitters like a snake in a dry bed forest. The woozy, synthesized dings and boings, laid in an assymetrical pattern, only further emphasize the patience of such a creature.


The remote [r.c.] has a melody and a motor. It’s so short, but feels like a craft revving for take off at a good distance. In the end Noir camomille takes us into a ghostly ballroom with a disembodied heartbeat. This is part sleep inducing, part live pulse, and all camouflaged in a dreamscape that keeps eluding us in the balance of this deep sense of presence and absence.


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