7 by Philip Jeck

British musician Philip Jeck's life work is with sounds, and how they may be transformed in random and unexpected ways. For instance, a needle stuck in a record's groove is a source of consternation for most people. Jeck, on the other hand, is eager to let the diamond ride a while because the repeated passage becomes an object for study and transmutation. His artform is an otherworldly sound world of pops, clicks, and crackles, mostly built up from dusty vinyl dug up from junk shops and outdated phonographic equipment no one would cast a second glance at in this day and age. Transcendent and mysterious, 7 is a set of pieces created with a sample keyboard, and a trove of his beloved old vinyl. "Bush Hum" extends the enquiry further by looping the harmonic buzz of an old Bush record player into a polychromatic, shifting swarm. The music is enveloped in a patina of dread and beauty, something that's remarkable considering how immiscible these two qualities normally are. But Jeck plumbs it with masterful verve. "Now You Can Let Go" references the echo of dub, "Museum" blends a brass fanfare with a mordant groan; "Wholesome" is anything but, considering its skeletal, arpeggio-tinted construct.

Philip Jeck (1952-2022) worked with old records and record players salvaged from junk shops turning them to his own purposes. He really did play them as musical instruments, creating an intensely personal language that evolves with each added part of a record. Philip Jeck makes geniunely moving and transfixing music, where we hear the art not the gimmick.

philipjeck.com