Martin Rach

Piercing

July 1st, 2020

Nature deceives a concept by changing its spring.
A thread is for the needle as the wire for the need.

Nartine breaks into a laboratory, carrying her sewing machine in a brown backpack. He unloads pieces of fabric, threads, needles and thimbles by an operating table. She disassembles its legs so as to get it on ground. Works the wires so that some of them are prepared to let the earth loop in.
She undresses and sticks a cable into his belly button. Slowly threads a yarn through the plastic protecting copper filaments. The needle goes into her guts and starts sewing. Marten’s bloodstream gives a pulse of a steady excitation. This is recorded onto an obscure fiber that she made on her night offs. Machines can’t decipher it and can’t store it. There’ll be no trace to rewind and review.
Narten plugs another jack into her calf muscles. Another thread finds a way to connect her twitches to his fallopian tubes.There is soothing buzz in a room. According to reads of a scanner she is dreaming. A part of Martine’s belly skin starts transforming into a textile tissue. It vibrates and interrupts the buzz so as to create a silent beat.
He whistles in her dream.
The needle now works the fabric formed out of her belly. Signs, letters, stitches, scars that she reads with his fingers.
Her whistling changes.
The moon is high listening to the black earth purl. For a moment Martene forgets her name. It disrupts the song as his heart not only beats, but echoes itself in her chest. Electric currents propelled forward by uterine joy make his stomach into 29 butterflies. She is now of the earth and the moon.
In rising waters lilies, drunk with linalool, dance to drumming of celestial spheres.
Needles and wires, plugs and threads stem and spring, branching into a labyrinth of whispers. The ascendant voice gets quickly and gently wrapped into a rag, whose time is of tomorrow.

Marten runs out of premises.
Her work will learn to walk as his hole will howl.

Moonchild.

Live Odd Things in words

May 13th, 2020

“I have already hinted, time and again, at a reviewer’s delight when material from perfect strangers is received which turns out to sound fresh, unpretentious and ultimately more intelligent than the average output of celebrated “names”. This happened with Live Odd Things by Martin Rach, a Lithuanian experimenter with several outings to his credit under various alter egos, usually phonetic variations on the same canon like the “Morten Rasz” used for this release. I will necessarily have to further deepen the issue (the albums, not the monikers).

Meanwhile, we have five tracks of apparent computer music that doesn’t stand still for a millisecond. The vibe is abstractly electronic, with outlandish analog connotations (there also seems to be a dyslexic old drum machine fluttering around). In fact I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the sources are NOT computerized, and remain waiting for enlightenment by the instigator of this sweet mess. In any case, there’s a constant logic in the apparent disorganization; a sort of self-regulating anarchy providing the necessary aesthetic consistency for the survival of the sonic organism within our auditory meanders.

For a (pathetic) synthesis, I would rely on the expression “galactically turbulent”. Awkward bleeps, invasive nano-fuzz, relatively assuaging hums alternate with the aforementioned rhythmic aleatoricism. The whole is spiced with gentler emissions, and leaves total freedom for the receivers to enter this strange world wherever they wish. Although the components of the timbral compound do not really change, a dose of (involuntary?) irony makes the act of listening a smooth enough experience. Bizarre celestial geometries amidst the utter disappearance of “styles”. Fine with me.”

https://touchingextremes.wordpress.com/2020/04/07/morten-rasz-live-odd-things/

https://martinrach.bandcamp.com/album/live-odd-things

Live Odd Things

April 3rd, 2020

The sound of the paper you write on is like the ears of a dreaming dragon.

live odd things by Morten Rasz

i was young and i needed money

March 26th, 2020

As i look at the star,
smoking,
Arvo Part‘s „Spiegel im Spiegel“ on,
i know that there‘s nothing in me
or in a star, or in a music that
can be said properly –
and, as a music waves into night,
i know that i am to myself the way the starlight is –
a flash of already nonexistant thing,
a record, untraceable,
and nothing could happen to me
or the star, or the
music

because we are all here
– the star, the music, myself –
in a way of being mistaken