The first time anyone heard Jan Jenilek recording under his own name (as opposed to through his nom-de-disques Farben and Gramm) was with his intriguing LP 'Loop Finding Jazz Records' back in 2001.
For the album Jenilek borrowed from art theory, utilizing the 'Moiré' effect in painting that seeks to create a 3D effect without using the traditional modes of perspective, and applying it to his bubbling cauldron of dubby techno.
'La Nouvelle Pauvrete' also takes a conceptual line. The phrase refers to a Belgian anti-fashion movement, though how it is applied to Jenilek's music is unclear. What is apparent is that the results are as cerebral as before, as Jenilek takes us on exploration of his intimate, subterranean worlds.
From the inaugural low hum that rises into a tense sheet of sound, you'd think that an atmosphere of avant garde tension may be about to build. But Jenilek is toying with us. The intro breaks into a fake round of applause, then segues smoothly into the minimalist and slightly menacing jazzy pulses of 'Music To Interrogate By'.
By the time we hit 'Facelift', three tracks in, we are already firmly enveloped in Janilek's fantasy universe comprised of micro-pops, mini-crackles and sub-static.
Everything moves along at an adamantly lugubrious pace as the switchdoctor carefully and slowly weaves dub, jazz, mini-house and his own distorted vocals into a dense patchwork that can feel as heavy and claustrophobic as a two-tonne duvet at times. This feeling reaches its peak on 'There Are Other Worlds (they have not told you of'), a walk through a strange slo-mo dream - or a likely candidate to soundtrack the surrealist noir of Donnie Darko.
Jenilek allows a few bursts of light to stream through his oppressive soundscape. 'It's, And's and But's' offers some respite towards the end with its surprisingly bright string opening and housey shuffle. Lest we forget whose world we are traveling in though, Jenilek brings us back with the 'A Waste Land', all sickly listing rhythms that conjure up images of mental illness itself rocking back and forth in a creaking armchair.
Delicious digital voodoo.
