RAOUL BJÖRKENHEIM
Apocalypso

(Cuneiform. Rune 156)

www.cuneiformrecords.com

I first heard Bjorkenheim’s guitar antics when he was with Edward Vesala’s Sound and Fury, a band that took jazz into sometimes startling territories. Apparently, the Finnish drummer told him to ‘totally obliterate anything that had to do with standard guitar’, advice he has certainly tried to take to heart. When next I heard him it was with his own band Krakatau on an album ‘Ritual’ (RUNE 86) which included exciting work from saxophonists, Jorma Tapio and Tapani Rinne. But the track that left the deepest impression was Bjorkenheim’s ‘New Day’ where his guitar conjured the bleakest and most desolate dawn imaginable. That partly prepared me for this new release.

Apocalypso is composed of 9 sections and was originally commissioned for the Helsinki Juhlaviikot Festival to be performed by a mammoth group of 42 guitarists, bassists and percussionists. Here Bjorkenheim does it all by himself, a one man virtual ensemble. So, how does it sound ? Words like primal and other-worldly come most readily to mind. As do furious and intense.

The title track is an apt example of what he is about. Pounding, metallic percussion propels the harsh, angular guitar while other guitars chatter and howl their own comments and asides. He creates a storm that teeters on the edge of feedback and occasionally topples over it. Notes bend and are re-shaped in a molten soundscape. For density it recalls, to my ears, some of Miles Davis’ most electric work.

But it isn’t all flat out sonic attack. Not quite. Rain is an impressionistic take with notes spinning and echoing while Lament has the guitars sounding more like cellos as they construct a mournful wall of melancholia. This is, however, completely shattered by the opening of Circles with its series of staccato hammerings from guitar followed by swooping trebly feedback. Layered guitars mesh together to form an agitated commentary and the piece returns to the levels of intensity which pervade much of the album.

The two fairly short tracks which bring the album to a close exemplify some use of contrasts. Spirits features some restrained, if somewhat sombre, guitar which gradually builds a sense of menace leading into Last Oracle with its dissonant chords and wailing lead taking the piece to an uneasy climax.

It isn’t exactly comfortable listening, so if your tastes incline to Pat Metheny or Wes Montgomery this may not suit. Nevertheless his explorations are compelling and open strange, disturbing vistas where some notions of what electric guitar can/should do will be refreshed.

--Paul Donnelly--