“In, Markus Mehr’s follow-up to his impressive debut album Lava, is the first part of a triptych whose subsequent parts, respectively On and Off, will be issued in June of this year and January of the next. While the opening third presents two long-form settings, the middle one offers eight and the closer a single forty-nine-minute epic. For now, the opening fifty-minute salvo does just fine at hinting at what experimental directions might be undertaken in the subsequent releases. The production approach Mehr brings to In is much like the one used for Lava, which involved guitars, synths, field recordings, and sampled sounds being processed to generate a humongous mass of sound. In the latest recording, Mehr uses synths, processed guitars, distortion pedals, and computer to create the two settings.

‘Komo’ begins gently enough with strings playing faintly in the distance, the effect ghostly and ethereal and hardly suggestive of the coming storm. As the silken strings incessantly repeat their mournful motif, the material grows hypnotic as it swells in volume and intensity. The music’s to-and-fro motion evokes a ship’s gentle movement on relatively calm waters, until the piercing sting of a guitar appears halfway through, portending the imminent move into darker and more turbulent waters where the music starts breaking apart, growing more distorted in the process. A man’s pontificating drone briefly surfaces before being violently wiped out by a stabbing interjection, the string loops continuing in the background throughout until they too are all but obliterated by the crushing noise hammering away at the forefront.

The second piece, ‘Ostinato,’ immediately establishes itself as a much more raw and grime-infested piece than the other. String loops are again present (if darker and deeper in tone) but this time heard through a scrim of soot and static, and, with the addition of a trumpet, the music takes on a nocturnal, noir-like gloom that complements the sickly see-saw movements of the strings. Electronics also are more prominent, as a textural stutter can be heard skittering across the cellos and guitar fragments at various moments. ‘Ostinato’ plays like the queasy sibling to ‘Komo,’ an altogether more disease-ridden entity in need of medical attention. All things considered, In makes for a provocative if uneasy listen that makes one wonder how the next chapter will pick up from where this one leaves off.”

Textura

“When done right, a build up that starts from next to nothing and turns into an all encompassing monolith of sound and texture is one of the best musical experiences one can go through. Gladly, the music we cover here on The Silent Ballet is brimming with all sorts of build ups using all different kinds of instrumentation from guitars and drums to synths and electronics or just layers of ambience and drones, with all yielding brilliant results. They suck the audience in and make them feel like they’re part of what’s happening – a living, breathing component witnessing the development of a whole new ecosystem around them. With time they become smaller, their existence loses importance, and they become bystanders in a fully fledged world of sound. When done right, it’s highly unlikely that any complaints will surface; most will sit back and take this as an opportunity to feel true awe and wonder, then replay it and feel it all over again. It’s a process of life, one that would take eons to develop in the real world, but in music (or art in general) it’s only a matter of minutes.

If anything, ‘Komo,’ the first half of Markus Mehr’s In is exactly that. It is a process of constant repetition and tension building with each tiny fragment or loop coming in to focus, one by one, little by little, to end up as an emphatically crushing work of art. The intricacy of the sounds and the amount of attention Mehr puts into this track shows on every listen; it never gets boring or old, even though the sum of its components wouldn’t exceed ten or twelve layers. It is minimalism that gives birth to the epic, intelligent music that takes over its listeners and engages them to its very dying moments. The sliced waves of reverb, the aggravated yet despairing speech sample that scorns the banality of present day human beings, and the gigantic noise chords (which I assume are guitar chords processed through an infinite loop of filters and bit crushers) come in to seal the deal and give the track its shock value, something that would pin the listener down under its mighty weight. The little dips in volume in the looping strings add anxiety and translate this uncertainty. “Komo” might as well be the first truly epic track of 2012 so far.

Alas, this doesn’t apply to the second half of the album. ‘Ostinato,’ which also clocks in at approximately twenty-five minutes, picks up on its predecessor’s intensity and starts promisingly, but it ends up being too static for its own good. Repetition and experimental music go hand in hand, especially when the music is on the more minimalistic side of the experimental spectrum. It works like a double edged sword; the results are either sheer elation with an almost unbreakable bond created between the music and its receiver that makes one want to listen to the same thing over and over again, or absolute boredom. ‘Ostinato’ lies in the grey area between both experiences. One is taken back by its strong, emotionally heavy beginnings, but with time the effect wanes and the track just becomes too long for its own good. It does have its moments of brilliance, though. The introduction of brass instruments at points and the buried clean guitar fiddling in the background would be the clear highlights. The element that doesn’t work, however, is in fact what made ‘Komo’ as brilliant as it is: timing. Whereas in the first track one can feel that each and every second of the song is meticulously crafted, the second seems hurried. Leaving the track to loop for ages unattended, even with brief stretches of modification, brings it, and thus the album, down.

In, which is supposedly the first of three themed releases, with the next two to follow in June (On) and January (Off), shows the facet of Mehr’s music that we had witnessed in his debut, Lava: the emphasis on thick layers of sound and repetition, the ability to take the audience’s attention hostage for a period of time only to let go when he feels like it. We see it here at its best thus far, but it still needs work. The upcoming two releases should be even more exciting as they promise to showcase even more experimental sides to his music, and that’s definitely worth waiting for.”

The Silent Ballet

“Markus Mehr is certainly leading with his chin by announcing a full-blown trilogy with only one full-length release under his belt. In is the first part, to be followed by On and Off within the year. The German experimental ambient artist marshals the same array of computer, synthesizers, guitars and distortion pedals used on his 2010 debut, Lava, and opens with a muffled grumble that might well be churning magma deep in the volcano.

As ‘Komo’ slowly clarifies in the air, a ravishing string-ensemble loop whirls and dips majestically. It is as romantic and seductive as swaying palms against the blue sky and blue sea of a south Pacific island. The dream idyll is however punctured with a quick, nasty blast of electric guitar, out of which somewhat incongruously emerges the voice of late American counterculture philosopher Terence McKenna. These lumpen guitar blasts proceed to engulf all the scenery. An unnecessarily brutal contrast, it’s not a good choice. In fact, it is a baffling one.

Savage distortion carries over onto ‘Ostinato’ before Mehr’s swaying orchestra shakes off all but a few grains of static caught in its strings and keys. Once again lofty, exalted loops are woven, but the space is now palpably indoors. A piano trill is delicately detourned and a trumpet player practicing over there in the corner provides an idea of the size and acoustics of the “in” Mehr is describing. As the piece wends its way a further twenty minutes, it exercises an increasingly hypnotic pull.

Mehr’s orchestral looping is not new, but it is executed with great dexterity. His treatment of it, though bold, is not necessarily always pleasing. The deep vinyl rumble crumbling to the repetitive toy-piano coda is a much more judicious use of distortion. As the rest of the trilogy unfolds, his big idea may become more apparent. On its own, In is a partial success.”

Igloo magazine

“Generally, impatient people must have a very difficult time getting ambient music; this much I know because I happen to be a very impatient person. The best ambient artists are capable of grabbing their listeners powerfully, wielding stunning climaxes and quietly moving melodies, often stuck at odds against each other. Too often, though, I slowly ease myself into position, preparing for a revelation, only to wake up from a deep slumber forty minutes later, everything having passed me by while I’m still stuck on the outside wondering what’s behind those impenetrable walls.

There are some walls I will never scale, but maybe Markus Mehr’s latest work, In, might be a good place to begin. It’s an undeniable beast of an album, and it’s not exactly easily digestible, yet there’s a wonderfully lucid quality to the ambience here that makes the experience compelling—and even a little enlightening.

The first half is “Komo”, a twenty-six minute behemoth that doesn’t show many signs of life until around halfway through. The first character we’re introduced to is an ominous rumble, starting off distant before closing in on us. Soon enough, a mournful string motif seeps in slowly before slowly swelling up. It’s a solemn beginning, majestic in an almost frigid way. Mehr has a steady hand as he defrosts the ice around the core of the track as it melts into warmer shades, other voices waking from their hibernation and calling out to each other. The progression never feels as tightly constructed as it really is, though; the way the layers of the track burrow in and out of each other feels so organic that even when it shifts into a more malevolent gear and machinery takes over, the development isn’t at all jarring but eye-opening.

“Ostinato” is just as gigantic as its other half, at twenty-three minutes, but it’s a completely different piece of work altogether. In contrast to the thawing glacial beauty of “Komo”, this piece is layered with ominous synths and buzzing static. A lone guitar and a gloomy, dissonant trumpet fanfare can be heard faintly from behind the layers of smoke and ash they’re wrapped in. There’s a distinct vibe that we may be witnessing the aftermath of the ruins explored at the end of the first movement, as if these few instruments are all that remain of the fallout. As the track nears its finish, the war signals begin cutting in desperately, calling out to empty streets, looking for any fellow refugees it can find. The trumpet wails back in equal proportions of sorrow. We’re never told if anybody ever made it out of the destruction alive.

In isn’t quite beautiful, and it isn’t exactly pure. What it is, however, is refreshingly, unflinchingly honest about what it’s trying to say. And for that reason alone, I’d have to say it may be worth hearing Mehr out.”

AbsolutePunk