Witch ‘n’ Monk’s boundary pushing eponymous second LP playfully explores fourth world landscapes, cosmic jazz boundaries and no wave rhythms

Nothing is sane in this world or indeed across Witch ‘n’ Monk’s self-titled second album (on John Zorn’s Tzadik imprint). This makes it a peculiarly fitting record for these days and months. The duo of Mauricio Velasierra and Heidi Heidelberg roll out their distinct sonic tapestry with “Escarbando”: otherworldly percussion, deep-time choirs from the veldt, backwards wonky synths and what feels like field recordings of unknown adepts speaking in tongues. It has the unhinged playfulness of Jean-Claude Vannier at his most joyfully extreme. Listeners may feel like Theseus in an acid-soaked state, frantically unravelling the ball of thread that has become many threads; the pleasure, it may be noted, overcomes any sense of fear.

“Coal Mine” is no wave bent into temporary shape and extended to become a cosmic jazz odyssey. It might be a track that deconstructs itself as it goes, but Witch ‘n’ Monk remember to keep it tethered. In other words: a wild ride, thoughtfully signposted. Meanwhile, “Self” employs extensive Columbian flute use and takes jagged avant-rock turns across its shifting surfaces. Although relatively calm, “Pagan’s Storm and the Sea Ballad” may have spewed unstable folk music into the screaming void, only to have it return as something beautiful and deadly.

“Now I find my voice inside”, exclaims Heidelberg on “The Cage”, words cast as instrumentation. Her voice cuts to the core, as do the stabbing violin bursts. There’s a dream battle going on across this abstracted pop landscape, populated with warring figures Edda Dell’Orso and Bernard Herrmann. “The Gathering” then provides some quietude, although its initial shapelessness becomes a vibrant soundtrack to a decadent European sitcom, existing somewhere along the axis between Michelangelo Antonioni and The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin. Almost-Latin rhythms and avant-garde sensibilities are present on “Outchant”, producing a suite of undulating fourth world hip hop from through the looking glass. “Gualchovan” takes to the night and pulls the curtains shut on the album. Here it feels that Witch ‘n’ Monk are exploring oral traditions using dilapidated electronics, perhaps paralleling Venus Volcanism’s Rizitiko (Optimo Music/Weaponise Your Sound) LP of re-appropriated Crete folk songs from earlier this year. Regardless of fellow travellers, “Gualchovan” is a singularly moving close to a successfully exploratory album that refuses to be pinned down.

Witch ‘n’ Monk Bandcamp

Stewart Gardiner
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