In the corners of Pop-music, along the borders where serious, improvised, experimental music come together, we see in regular cycles a type of music develop, which allows young men mainly to be poetic in a very nerdy way. This triad could develop a new layer after »Krautrock« and »Post-Rock«, which I would like to name »Synth-bop«. This should paraphrase a style of music, which agrees on the synthesizer as the least common denominator, which is trained in improvisation, harmony and minimalism and which excels in an instrumental virtuosity and a strong love for machines. I also think that the term »Synth-poetry« works pretty well, especially when you take the music, the artwork, the titles, the information given and all that as an entity. Eric Lanham, momentarily living in the state of Kentucky, is one of the described youngsters, and »The Sincere Interruption« is a compilation of solo pieces recorded in March 2012, which are improvised live by the musician who has formerly played with the Caboladies as a trio. Lanham here plays on instruments à la mode, which are arranged as a poem on the backside of the LP: Access Virus TI/ Elektron Octatrack/ Roland V-Synth/ Alesis QX-49/ Shure SM49. The poetry of a nerd. The machines provide the material for Lanham, and they provoke the ideas – and it’s only a tiny piece of all the reflection that is shown in precision here. The tracks named »21:00«, »Position: BWIK 15« or »SDF 689« are versatile. »Handling Noise« at the beginning for example, introduces during its one and a half minutes a new gimmick every 20 seconds, and the following »21:00« relaxes on the same minimalistic idea for an entire six and a half minutes. This is definitely a compliment, as Lanham knows how to turn his ideas into form. And he knows how to vary, besides some synthesizer-based tracks he sometimes also relies on a sample as a ground for tracks like »AM/ER JOS« or the title track »The Sincere Interruption«. That does no harm to the sound design. It might remind one of releases by Mille Plateaux in the 1990s, but – and that’s my feeling – without the academic habitus. This is more about passion.
Sarah Davachi
The Head As Form’d In The Crier’s Choir
Late Music