Lutebulb

Lutebulb is an album of highly inventive, polystylistic avant-prog by Austrianbased trio, Blueblut Featuring acclaimed musicians: Pamelia Stickney Chris Janka and Mark Holub, Lutebulb is the band’s fifth album release – a culmination of the trio’s past decade of collaboration Blueblut’s highly unusual line-up brings together three musicians acclaimed for exceptional contributions to their respective spheres in experimental jazz, electronica and rock. Lutebulb is the fabulous culmination of ten years of intensive touring, with the Vienna based trio of Pamelia Stickney (theremin, vocals), Chris Janka (guitar, loops, samples) and Mark Holub (drums, vocals, percussion) socking it to global audiences with an international polystylistic musical language which takes in improv, jazz, avant-rock, ska, folk and Krautrock among other elements. They are as funny and as serious as your life – these tracks generally kick off in deceptively jaunty mode, sketchy, infectious shuffles which then build to a sky-kissing intensity. They love to shape shift – they are a constant tale of the unexpected in motion. There are three of them – at times, guests notwithstanding, it sounds like there are ten of them. Take “Cocktail”, which sets forth against the backdrop of clatter and chatter of some imaginary downtown liquor joint – the very sound of a cocktail shaker is integral to the percussion. Blueblut take their place in the scenario like strolling buskers, strumming briskly, then pausing, as if for thought, before as if triggered by a cue, taking flight in a manner that reminds of Can’s “Spare A Light”, Janka’s guitars monsoon-like in their precipitation. There’s no telling what will provoke Blueblut’s sudden shifts in direction, tempo, loath as they are to settle into any sort of somnambulant loop. On “Arrobark” it’s Holub’s percussion, working up to a solo frenzy as if in the grip of some private vexation, bringing his fellow players to the boil – increasingly astringent, full on action stations, red alert. On “Aumba”, following a passage of perfectly sculpted melodic theremin from Stickney, samples of Bulgarian vocal music, the Voix Bulgares first introduced to a wider audience by the 4AD label in the late 1980s hove ethereally in, the haunting, abrasive harmonies peculiar to that country, before, quite unexpectedly, the track mutates into a vocals-driven Anglo-German, Kurt Weillian piece of anti- Schlager. Blueblut’s dedication to pushing musical boundaries is showcased across Lutebulb, only made possible by the confidence gained from nearly a decade of collaboration, as Blueblut explains: “A lot of the music for this album is stuff that we have been playing live for a long time. Our concerts in the last few years have mostly been a mixture of playing through-composed pieces alongside the MIDI Orchestra and as well as these slightly looser pieces. The pieces themselves were formed in a mixture of ways. Mostly, however, they followed the usual Blueblut formula– Chris brought in sketches and ideas and then we collectively developed them - sometimes in rehearsal and sometimes in concert. This album represents a return to the band as a trio. A back to basics - a Blueblut’s ‘White Album’, or perhaps our ‘Blue Album’...and guaranteed AI-free! Lutebulb represents our most ‘composed’ album to date – it’s a journey of us finding a band voice over 10 years working together and compressing that into music. “ There are fleeting reminders across the album of the playful experimentalism of Zorn and Mr Bungle, the wonky strut of Primus and the eclectic lyricisms of Henry Cow. Hendrix is also an acknowledged touchstone for the group, not merely in the heroic guitar sense but also with regards to the theremin – judicious soundscaping, electric ambiences, purple, green red and blue hazes – hints here and there, as on the celestial pitch of intensity reached by the players on “Clarinot”. There are shades also of Pink Floyd’s Ummagumma on “Arrobark”, in its glowing resonances before once more Janka’s guitars, filtered, mottled, shredded, come into their own, his soloing slyly undermined by a sample of a barking dog, a reminder of life back down on the ground. Finally, “Kaktusgetränk”, in which they revert to beat music type once more, before embarking on a joyful, show-stealing take on “Tequila”. Lutebulb is the sound of a trio firing on multiple cylinders, at the top of their accumulated powers.