Gigomaphone

Some time back I reviewed this album and gave it a hearty thumbs up.

Several months on, I’m still all over it like a rash.

This is utilitarian music and whilst that sounds like more of a slap in the face than a plaudit, it’s this quality that gives it strength. It’s hardy, resilient, nostalgic and retrospective electronic music that’s equally at home pulsing out of the earbuds on a run, as it is as a background to thoughtful work. There are no pesky lyrics to distract or detract, nor are there any jarring changes of pace.

As the hot water bottle of my music collection, this is a standout. Bravo.

Having only heard of Lindstrom through his contribution to the underrated ‘Late Night Tales’ compilation series, I was intrigued to read several excellent reviews of this album. Having listened to it now, several times, I am compelled to add to the plaudits.

This is Norwegian space trance disco at its most splendidly recognisable. With just three tracks, the self titling opener nearly 30 minutes long and two others weighing in at around 15 and 10 minutes apiece, Hans-Peter Lindstrom, who is evidently quite an eclectic character, weaves a thoroughly engrossing and very comfortable blanket of pulsing, arpeggiating sound. This is an album concerned with journeys and is probably most effective pulsing away in the background of our own personal journeys, on a walk, a run or whilst working, although it’s peaks, troughs and progressions equally reward self-contained absorption. There’s one thing I’ve learnt over the years, listening to epic prog-electro: 30 minute tracks pretty much demand peaks and troughs, otherwise they get boring. So there’s a story here too, buried deep within the mix.

Whilst this is not without its failings, chief of which that it tends to spend a bit of time with it’s crazy organic musical disco head up its arse (one could easily accuse Lindstrom of self indulgence on a grand discofied scale), it is superbly composed and the production values are extremely high. The music is coloured, textural and rich, with a throbbing minimalist quality not unlike the work of Steve Reich, whilst Giorgio Morodor, Tangerine Dream, Jean Michel Jarre, and old Meco (obscure 70s Italian quasi-disco muso) vinyl LPs from my long-lost childhood get a showing. Parents take a bow.

The last half of the last track, ‘The Long Way Home’ introduces some playful chintzy synth bells that are right out of a forgotten ‘Jazz and Moog-does-The Hits’ long player buried in a pile in a second hand shop somewhere, teetering on a pocket-knife edge between cringeworthy and inspirationally sentimental. I’ll dob for the latter, naturally. 

Whilst Lindstrom uses throwaway electronic disco-flam to make a point (and I’m not entirely sure where that point leads to), it is substantial, well rendered, melodic flam and in its own beautiful way, it’s masterful.

I understand this is his first ‘official’ LP, after a raft of EPs and remixes. I’m interested to see what’s next.

Captivating.

 5/5