REVIEW: Scanner, Delivery (Rawkus)
- Lee Graham Bridges
An overwhelming surge of media attention (some might say hype) has surrounded the compositional activities of Robin Rimbaud, aka Scanner, for some time. The novelty of his brand of expression (the inclusion of private phone conversations made public in his music) seems too much for the American press to take. Rimbaud calls himself a flbneur ilictronique, an electronic "wanderer" or "idler". He listens in on cellular and cordless phone conversations with (what else) a police frequency scanner--then steals those airwaves and sets them to music. Of course, the names, addresses, and personal ID's have been eliminated, and often times even the pitch of the voices is altered. Other found sounds from fax transmissions, satellite communications, and the like make their way into the mix as well. Several years and a handful of full-lengths and 12-inchers after his musical beginnings, Rimbaud sticks a bit of a wrench in the works with Delivery, circumventing fans' expectations for the followup of his previous works.
Before I listened to the CD (being a newcomer to the work of Scanner), I was expecting something similar to the work of sonic/multimedia terrorists EBN, a la Telecommunication Breakdown. Delivery turns out to be far removed from that level of hyperactive energy - but equally intriguing and intoxicating. Unlike the impression given by the media, the album is surprisingly focused more on music itself, and a less electronic quality of music overall than the press led us to believe.
Often times, it is difficult to understand the words being said in the conversations included on certain tracks; they are either too quiet or too fuzzy. This in itself brings Delivery away from the "realistic drama" quality of entertainment many people, including Rimbaud, expect from private dialogue. At the same time, the mere fact that the speech is unintelligible provides a new ingredient for ambient composition. "Digital Anchor" is very reminiscent of certain moments on David Byrne and Brian Eno's My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts; quiet, low-fi human phone noise winds its way through a minimal wah-wah sort of sound.
"Heidi" is definitely the most disturbing track and perhaps also most indicative of the style Rimbaud has been noted for. He matches the very angry, distorted yet distinguishable voice of a man issuing his girlfriend a stern, repetitive warning: "Don't lie to me!" An unsettling ambient melody trods along in back. "If a girl came in my bedroom today, and we had sex, I would tell you..." the man tells her, as sounds of people applauding and cheering eerily bubble to the surface.
While there are many electronic and radio-infused moments on Delivery, they are fewer than Rimbaud has presented before, such as on his first full-length CD, Spore. Previous conversations on Rimbaud's records range from discussions about infected female genital piercings, to a threatening phone call Rimbaud received at 15, to a woman speaking about her boyfriend's death in an automobile accident. "I found your wedding ring in a box of screws." "Do you love me enough to come over tonight?" Things like that.
But most tracks on Delivery contain little or no radio noises or eavesdropped conversations. "Barcode" is funky but light, mimicking Aphex Twin's penchant for distorted beats and pairing them with easygoing synth tones and interestingly selected snippets from orchestra performance. "Throne of Hives" is very sincere and beautifully engrossing, yet moody - almost cryptic near the end; crisp, wonderfully dark trumpet and string melodies are interspersed with odd, misshapen beats and reverbed guitar samples. "Hunting Your Lost Face" brings trumpets and strings into the mix again, accompanying both exotic and distorted drumbeats, presenting the most elevated melancholy on the whole album at its conclusion. "It's interesting that people often don't comment on the music at all," Rimbaud told Alternative Press. He was, in fact, involved in the industrial scene of the early 80's, and even today is an able guitarist, a piano player of 20 years...the list continues. Delivery, a shining, mesmerizing work, demonstrates Rimbaud's accomplished musicianship more completely than anything.
Rimbaud, who has performed live at the Royal Festival Hall, spoken at conferences next to Bill Laswell, Eno, Peter Gabriel, and Derek Jarman, and will be "curating" a series later this year at the Knitting Factory London, said "it wouldn't surprise me to learn that my albums are archived in the record shops under some all-purpose section labelled 'perve.'" So this is complete voyeurism then? "I don't deny that I enjoy listening to these things as much as anybody. Most people are voyeurs. Everyone wants to watch, but no one wants to be the one being watched." But Rimbaud belives that privacy is fast becoming obsolete in the face of new technology. "What I do fits in with the culture of surveillance that we live in," he said to Raygun. "You're being watched the whole time. Does it bother you or not? Should there be such a thing as privacy?"
