By Brian Earley
As I drove home from Philadelphia on March 28 of this year my soundtrack of
choice was music from Scandinavia. Specifically, With Love, the
latest release from Signe Emmeluth’s Amoeba. The specter of
authoritarianism had brought me to Philly’s Love Park that day where I met
up with 80,000 of my closest friends. A calling card of fascism has always
been deliberate confusion and the restriction of information, both of which
apply directly to my experience of With Love. When I clicked
“Check out now” to purchase the physical record on Bandcamp from Moserobie
Music Production, I was met with a message informing me this item no longer
ships from Sweden to the United States, part of the fallout from the US
mandate removing the de minimis tariff exemption. I don’t wish to
trivialize the much more serious and life altering impacts of fascism on
individual lives, where it rips apart families until the earth is charred
and oil rains from the sky, but I also don’t want its tiny bruises to be
normalized either. Information is growing a little harder to obtain in the
US. Thank goodness the internet is still free enough for me to listen to
music from a Swedish label.
I have long been in crazy love with Emmeluth’s compositions and recordings,
and since Signe’s 2021 solo work
Hi Hello I’m Signe
, I acquire her albums as quickly as I can; a hard miss for me was the 25
edition release of Live 2022/2023with each cover a unique
handpainted origami by Emmeluth herself (throw a shout my way if you know
where I can find one!). Somehow, her work possesses a sound that is at once
completely distinct and utterly new. This album is no exception. For
example, mere seconds into the record’s second track, “Golugele,” there is
no mistaking the sound for anything other than the Amoeba. Pianist
Christian Balvig and Emmeluth bang down composed unison syncopations, while
Karl Borjå’s jangling guitar alternates off beat chords with Sonny Sharrock
like runs and drummer Ole Mofjell rolls the snare into splash and crash
cymbal waves.
At times Emmeluth’s group evokes Don Cherry’s multi-thematic works where
small themes emerge into expansive improvisations. In fact, like
Complete Communion
or Symphony for Improvisers, this album is one long suite, though
perhaps it maintains a tighter line with composition than those legendary
albums. At times Sun Ship era Coltrane is present, as it is on
“Amoeba 1,” the first song on the record. The work, despite the community
of free jazz ancestors smiling from the ether at their musical lineage,
sounds like nothing else. Make no mistake, Emmeluth and the band are
imitating nobody, but they do not come from nowhere. Although their roots
may grow deep, they flower into petals and filaments not found on any other
stem.
The music tumbles freely forward while remaining tightly fused. Check out
the opening romp on “Amoeba 2” where Emmeluth’s horn soon signals the group
in the direction of a heavy metal like guitar riff starting around the 2:00
mark. The work stomps along while operating with shocking precision, but
really starts rocking as it continues into “Hubby,” the following track.
The music converts into an asymmetrical wobble that escalates into a
glissed wail around the 30 second mark. The riff returns and soon yields
Emmeluth’s alto whistling at the top of the music before embarking upon a
noise solo urged forward by Balvik crashing the piano keys.
“Pling Plong MF/Dripping Liquids/Pling Plong MF” follows the controlled
chaos with mysterious ambience, and the record reaches its zenith on its
closing work. “Something Old” returns the riff from “Amoeba 2” but varied
and simplified and played on only strings at first (plucked on Balvig’s
piano–or also on Borjå’s guitar?), and a trance-mania manifests as the
group continues and varies this throughout the 9:52 work.
“Gåen,” the final song on the digital recording, seems to stand alone
outside of the suite, and despite its opening flourish, emanates liquid
meditation. It is soft and reassuring and sad and full of hope and is as
filled with paradox as the band that plays it. I hope I have no illusions
about my privilege in being able to listen to such a complex and beautiful
work. The Amoeba is still tossing threads for us to catch and follow in
the labyrinth, and I don’t want to grow complacent about how wonderful it
is to have easy access to this remarkable music. The attention to detail,
commitment to originality, and conscious lineage with its tradition all
demonstrate just how much love went into the creation of this album, and it
is with love that I thank those involved for it.
With Love can be found here:
https://signeemmeluth.bandcamp.com/album/with-love
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