Belgium £13 (including postage)
Europe £15 (including postage)
Rest of world £17 (including postage)
Edition of 200 copies
Llum Moll is a multilayered composition made with a manipulated AM radio receiver subjected to interference by LED lamps. The combination of the lamps in tandem with the radio tuned to certain frequencies creates a ‘phantom organ’ sound, turning the receiver into an instrument with a peculiar timbre and pitch. The composition was made in two parts. The first was to record and then select fragments with different lengths, pitches and textures. The second was
to readjust the pitch of the chosen fragments and then create a multilayered composition with a maximum of eight simultaneous tracks. Llum Moll’s
inherent electrostatic pollution and radio static parasites give it its melancholy narrative: the radio sings and howls but never speaks.
Composed, recorded and mixed
in September 2010.
Ferran Fages is a restless performer,
who rarely does the same thing twice. You approach any new record with excitement and trepidation. Llum Moll contains a single track, apparently recorded with a modified AM radio
receiver, although the music itself is rather unlike what one would expect
from such instrumentation. The CD is largely made up of the thinnest, most shrill needle tones, layered in the most uncomfortably close harmonic intervals. Think Sachiko M at her most piercing,
or the microphone feedback portions
of Prurient’s Black Vase. It’s an un-compromising listen. About 30 minutes into the piece, the volume drops to near silent sub-bass rumbles — quite a relief
after what preceded it. Listeners will be hard-pressed to find anything so vacant,
yet so challenging — like a dental
appointment, it should be endured,
only not very often.
William Hutson in The Wire
On the way to work in the car this morning I listened through to Ferran Fages’ new release Llum Moll on the Entr’acte label. About ten hours later,
I went back to my car to drive back
home. I got in, turned the key, had
a quick drink of water before settling down for the hour long drive, and then sprayed the windscreen with most of it when the CD suddenly kicked in and frightened the life out of me. One of my work colleagues, leaving around the same time, came over because he thought my car’s alarm had gone off. Llum Moll is, then, something of an acquired listen.
Richard Pinnell at The Watchful Ear
Photo by Lali Barrière