Botho Cochois | Viscous Cotton
For a presumed debut, described as having: “sharp-edged drones which enshroud electroacoustic rustle and fragments of field recordings” this new self-released, download-only from German sound-collagist Botho Cochois is dead on the money with the senses-working-overtime title, Viscous Cotton. Five engaging tracks of spatial drone that seems to be filtered through a broken mirror, coming and exiting through cracks and surfaces, like a slippery disappearing act. Running for just over a half hour this is nuanced like one of those incredibly remastered cult classics from the Criterion collection, yes it’s cinematic in scope.
The only place where this seems to fall slightly on deaf ears is in the transition between Spanish Breakfast and Green Curved Leaves as there’s a lack of dymanic shift as there is before and after, keeping us in an almost monotone one-note suspension a bit too long. After several minutes this horizonline chord begins to twist just enough to get you through to the second half of the recording.
Next up, herein appears the title track, which seems a play on words and tangible surfaces. The piece follows a similar course as the previous track but seems both warmer and more anagogic at the same time. The piece, if textural at all, seems quite smooth, as slippery as silk. It calls to mind a church organ with an elongated pumped out note that only dissipates at the very end, leaving a sense of jittery nerve-endings in its shadow. Finally, with Hum of Ceiling Grass two sound sources start to intervene, one watery, fluid, lapping, one almost laser-beam like in in sonic glare. With a few bits of surface noise, some low-range squall, the drone begins to contain several elements and effects that emerge. Botho Cochois left his showpiece for the conclusion, and it’s a mesmerizing sleeper.