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Jan-M. Iversen | "1.05 Drone"
TRB.003 | 2007/01/05 | CDR
contents
1 1.05 Drone 64:56

total duration
64:56

recording & mixing
December 2006

mastering & graphic
Themistoklis Pantelopoulos, December 2006
    "1.05 Drone" is a 65-minute procession of floating abysmal and spacey sound, sublimely deep and dimensional. Cryptically exhaled blessings and curses towards destiny, take form and become huge, agonizing tidal flows. The final acid wave comes to sooth passions by wiping the memories that once haunted the inner-abyss. Redemption... Does all this sound pretentuous? Maybe it does. Although, this release is a must, not only for Jan-M. Iversen releases' collectors but also for those who need drone music like a cure.
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available

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reviews

Andrea Vercesi | Chain D.L.K. | July 2007
    The third Triple Bath release is Jan-M. Iversen's "1.05 Drone". Besides being part of the well known Origami collective, Iversen has released as much as 35 releases in the past years, which is quite an impressive number. Favoring clarity and meditation, Iversen's hour long drone is a floating composition made of many sound layers - in the last five minutes there is a tone shifting which I intended as a gentle awakening from the droning trance. I suppose that the sound sources on this one are treated field recordings because of the drone's irregularity. As far as I can remember this is the best release of this artist.

Darren Bergstein | e/i Magazine | Installment 9 | July 2007
    Iversen is a marginal figure to many, but to those sharp few cognoscenti tuned into the multi-tentacle underground CDR network, his name is rapidly ascending the proverbial ladder. Or at least it should. It's a crying shame that Iversen chooses (if that descriptor is apt) to operate on the periphery of things: whether collaborating with like-minded souls or operating solo, he is a righteous murk whose broader anonymity does it a grave injustice. The title of his release for Triple Bath is obvious enough, although the numerical symbology remains mysterious. Interestingly enough, so does the resultant soundscape. Over the course of its nearly 65 minutes, one psychological state the listener surely never achieves is boredom. Iversen's aural surface isn't particularly subtle; he's not above using piercing tonal sub-oscillations to emasculate the speaker fabric, but the use of, for lack of a better word, noise, is strategically placed, never overpowering, and ultimately, tacitly powerful. When these pressurized cauldrons reach critical mass and explode, they do so out of quiescent black voids populated by their own stark signifiers, filling up the surrounding vacuum rather than imploding upon it like some Merzbowian exercise. Iversen's sounds reek with a similar gigantism, yet their cosmic malevolence is more big bang than big bang-up; at least the enveloping effect spares you from getting too battered and bruised. Bleak, burned-out and strangely becalming, Iversen's intellectualized chaos never gets so cerebral it loses its latent ability to whelm both mind and gut.

Dmitry Vasilyev | IEM | June 2007
    Jan-Morten Iversen is still a new name to me, although I am aware of his impressive catalogue of completed and ongoing projects and collaborations. All his albums were released in very limited editions, just like his own label TIBProd uses to operate. This album is not an exception; it was released by the Greece-based label Triple Bath in early 2007. One can say that the title is self-explanatory, so you should expect over an hour of drone-ambient excursion. Oops, the ambient word is really missed here, because it is maybe too harsh-edged for the real ambience, although there is no jumping dynamics or many events throwed in. Just the abstract tapestry of soundscapes emerged from a bunch of effects and plugins. The clever handling of multiple layers which are constantly moving with varying speed and angles. Sometimes the noisy parts are taking over, then disappearing to be replaced by glitchy sounds that get boosted by silence. I must admit that there is not so much new here, but it is a pleasant listening anyway, so you can check this out if it is still available.

Ron Schepper | Textura | issue 31 | April 2007
    Having issued thirty-five releases over the past ten years, TIBProd label founder Jan-M. Iversen brings a wealth of experience to this hour-long drone for the Athens/Greece label Triple Bath. Throughout the piece, steely sheets of vaporous noise sweep across immense vistas, and ripples of starburst crackle maintain a perpetual ebb and flow. The work segues between quiet passages which mimic the experience of drifting into sleep and violent sections where the sound escalates to a violent, shattering pitch; at such moments, the drone approximates an industrial mass of seething hysteria that unfurls like a processed howl. Mention also must be made of the work's conclusion where the piece ascends to a glorious, transcendent climax before deflating and then vanishing altogether. Needless to say, "1.05 Drone" offers drone devotees the opportunity of a deeply immersive experience.

Stephen Fruitman | Sonomu | March 2007
    Jan-M. Iversen is one of the great contemporary doyens of drone, a prolific solo and collaborative artist who also runs his own label, TIBProd, out of Stavanger. This latest offering on the relatively new greek CDR label Triple Bath presents a particularly superb work, a single piece whose title is only slightly false advertising - it is actually seconds short of an hour and five minutes. From the get-go the listener is trapped in some dank, dark, underground region from which he is never released. A shimmer of electric static crackles above a constantly rumbling nether region (not unlike a far-off subway train which never seems to arrive at the station) and a middle zone in which hydraulic gusts, air-duct wheezings and metallic grinding eerily play. No hint as to the origin of the source material, which anyways is immaterial. As the piece proceeds, it continuously and very gradually shifts shape over and over; in the manner of all well-crafted drone music, only the attentive listener will notice that various elements constantly fade in and out, draw nearer or pull farther away, are added and subtracted. All as deftly composed as if it were a work for chamber orchestra. Not a nice place to visit, but as with most of Iversen's production, essential if you care about the one of the best practitioners of this peculiar but rewarding genre. Limited numbered edition of 96.

Massimo Ricci | Touching Extremes | March 2007
    The title is a little misleading, as Iversen's single track on this CDR is not a real drone - although it rumbles quite deeply in several occasions - but rather sounds like a bulletin from a dark hole: a continuous, powerful vortex of whirling insufflations and whooshing noise made of various sources, all camouflaged into an educately roaring mass (imagine a strong wind over a microphone's capsule rendered more exciting through competent studio treatment) that constantly charges and retreats until its presence is accepted and, in a way, welcomed. Nothing exactly groundbreaking, but the piece can easily defend itself in the arena of space and post-ambient music, which is growing into an increasingly stressing zone to live in, given the impossibility of a careful evaluation of the huge quantity of home projects released these days. Iversen sounds a little more professional, though, and its Drone caught me in a moment of total relax, generating an interesting sonic domain through which I closed my eyes and abandoned myself, only to be brought back to my senses at the end by a heavier, more (in)tense radiation. It can stay with me.

Bauke van der Wal | Connexion Bizarre | February 2007
    Greece is doing musically very fine lately. Earlier this year I had the pleasure of writing a review for Nokalypse's "Ocean of Inexistence" released on the greek Triple Bath label and for some days now I've been listening (over and over) to "1.05 Drone" by Jan-M. Iversen, released on the same Triple Bath. The CD has one long 1 hour - 5 minute track and it is exactly what you think it is: a drone. You can ask questions about the originality of this title, but it is what it pretends to be. Though Jliat did it (imho) a bit more original with his "A Long Drone - Like Piece Of Music Made With Synthesizers, Samplers And Digital Delays Which Attempts In Its Minimalism To Be A Thing In Itself Without External Reference, Having An Analogue In Certain States Of Consciousness Where Being Is Experienced Also As A Thing In Itself And Not Contingent On Meaning Or Purpose". But let's concentrate on this release. The enclosed biography - as with Nokalypse perfectly taken care of - starts with the words that the maker of this CD, Jan-M. Iversen - doesn't need a recommendation. Well, this is the first time I hear of him. But he released 35 albums so far and is the man behind the TIBProd label, who released among others M.B., I.o.S., Aidan Baker and Conrad Schnitzler. Next to that, he is connected to Origami Republika, which in total will give you a chance to place the artist, and perhaps this album. From what I've understood this album is more droney then his other output but it's a very good piece nevertheless. The production is well done and the dynamics are good. Harsh noisey parts and intimidating pure sounds make it over an hour worth of mind-tingling sounds and waves. A great journey through mental states and corners of virtual worlds where you might have problems finding your way back.

Mirko Uhlig | Tokafi | February 2007
    It must have been around midnight when I caught the last tube out of town. Due to some local anesthesia at public places before I didn't waste a thought about the fact of being the only lonely soul straying around underground. Getting to bed and laying down my grinded bones was all I was thinking about. So, no thought about that strange metallic tube rolling in, either. "Gee, haven't been here before" was my inner voice mumbling. "Is it Antarctica?" Well - what happened to me was the Iversen metro was taking me into the belly of the moloch. A bit of an old man reciting Dante's decent into hell through a mouthpiece full of icicles. Only that this voyage was a horizontal one - no vertical. I passed some glacial landscapes with metallic magpies glued to the grey shifting sky. Some of them with feet frozen to the ground, you know. Me, a part inside a closed system. Suddenly - I got aware of that atrocious snarling which must have been present all the time. As the tube was converging this ominous black something in the distance - I got it. There was a big monster waiting for the new passengers to arrive. This all came up to my mind after listening to Iversen's new one-track-album "1.05 Drone" for about 20 minutes. The climax was drawing nearer and nearer - suspense, irritation and fascination. After passing this big monster - the journey goes on for another 40 minutes. It felt just a little bit willfully stretched at times... but yes: if you want to dive down into a glacial abode for a while - this one will give you a good journey.

Michael Chocholak | via e-mail | February 2007
    I'm not familiar with the work of Jan Iversen, but this composition is not what I expected given it's title and the genre assumptions that follow. Not meditative or zoned out. This hour long piece is like a system unto itself. Data spills in undulating tidal washes that rush past in a continuum. But there is no undertow. You are not drawn in. Instead, you fall in after leaning too far over the edge. The movement seems circular like an endless vortex focused on itself and its blind enigmatic purposes. You will be admitted, abided, accepted, but not embraced. Yet you are not alone as you are swept along surfing the glittering static torrents. There are phantoms here shimmering just beneath the surface. Sonic vapor shadows that slip by you revealing themselves only after they are beyond your reach. Voices. Environments. Things concrete. Momentarily gestating before becoming engulfed once again. Or perhaps they are a mirage for the ear and mind. Have you ever fallen a deep sleep on the subway and had a dream? This is the soundtrack to that dream.

Jos Smolders | EARLabs | February 2007
    When I first listened to this I thought: "Is Jan Iversen ashamed of his music?". I got the strong impression that he is. I must admit a few things first: This is my first encounter with Iversen and I do not like drone music very much. The two must have a relation but I leave it up to you which is cause and which effect. Iversen is the leading man behind the wonderful TIBProd label which has a steady stream of followers and an admirable catalogue. The stranger it is that I have not heard Iversen's music before, isn't it? Triple Bath started in November 2006 and now releases its 3rd production. It defines itself as a label releasing music in a wide area like free jazz, field recording, noise, electroacoustic and drone music. It was first envisioned in the summer of 2003, after a remix project at the Artist Server music community. The releases are excellently produced CDR's at a very reasonable price of 5 EUR. Let's focus on this release. The cd features one composition of somewhat more than one hour. What immediately catches my ear is the fact that there is a constant layer of over saturated noise. There is this hideous bass that sounds like it's been recorded too loud. Right behind it, a hysterical angelic choir of noise. The build-up of the work is okay, starting heavy, sinking back (a little!), a climax in the middle (30 minutes) and near the end. But the sound is "out of tune" with that. That's when I think: "Is Iversen nuts? Why hide good stuff behind a bar of hoarse bass noise?". Then I realize that it's the result of that lame soundcard in my laptop. Connecting a better card (iMic, ideal for travelers) yields quite something else. Of course the structure remains the same, but the sound is quite a different matter. The bass is no longer drunk but a cool and collected hum. The focus now is on the higher notes. The abovementioned choir gets and seizes the opportunity to lash out on my ears. Iversen appears to be a real power player. I guess that this stuff works very well for metal rockers after their 2nd bong and it's time for contemplation. I myself decided to cut away everything from 40 to 80 Hz and then listen again at a lower volume. The oppressiveness is gone and what comes forward is a much more interesting sound-curtain.

Jaap Kamminga | Ikecht | January 2007
translated from dutch
Jan-M. Iversen, the man behind the TIBProd label, regularly releases music himself. Sometimes as a solo artist, also with others, often with Sindre Bjerga. "1.05 Drone" is another solo release, not on his own label this time, but on Triple Bath. 65 minutes playing, so that's 1.05 hours. The music: Drones. There's the explanation of the title. Logically the music consists of only 1 track. One long piece of drone-music for the drone-lover. It keeps floating, entering your mind, unconsciously frightening you. It deliberately gives you fear, but it doesn't touch the source of this fear. This is a nice piece to play during a storm. The storm just won't stop and seems to have entered your house. The piece is well built up and contains, beside the drones, many elements, keeping the piece exciting, without directly turning it into music. Even the soundscape is too big for what Iversen plays for us here. When you play this piece, you will hardly notice you are playing it, but you'll notice something is missing when it isn't playing. The drone-lover should definitely have a listen.

Frans de Waard | Vital Weekly | January 2007
    Besides his various releases with Sindre Bjerga, it is relatively quiet on the front of Jan-M. Iversen releases. He is perhaps busy running his TIBProd label, but here he has time to create a new work, consisting of one piece, "1.05 Drone", which lasts 1 hour and 5 minutes, hence, perhaps its title. It's a work, as the title already suggests, that deals with drones. And that's what you get. A deep dark and highly atmospheric piece of drone music. Made with sources unknown, but Iversen adds a whole blend of sound effects to it. Music to be played in the dark room, late at night, in order to get the full haunted house effect. Music for a wordless thriller, depicting murder without seeing the victim. Like blood spatters about and a full moon. Quite cinematographic music. Some of his previous work wasn't worked out and structured that well, but "1.05 Drone" is. It flows nicely along the waves it's riding. It's easily his best work to date.