Aria Rostami | Form

Audiobulb
 Cat: AB047
 Time: June 2013
 Media: Digital Download

 Info: This work reflects my understanding and 
 appreciation for all things coming to an end. The album 
 starts off kicking and screaming and slowly unwinds 
 from then on. Sounds burst out like living organisms, 
 somewhat imperfect and random and then fall apart 
 by refolding into themselves. It carries a bittersweet 
 sentiment, a dying organism so to speak.

 Artist site: http://ariarostami.com/releases/

 PDF Press Release: Download
 Tracklisting:

 1. Japanese Parisian
2. Cleare
3. Wednesday Blonde
4. Streetlights as Fairgrounds
5. Daydream 26
6. Klaus
7. Mata Hari
8. Black Tile
9. Black Sands (anniversary)
 
   bleep
VIDEO | Black Tile

 

 

REVIEWS | Form
 
 HEADPHONE COMMUTE
 
 Here’s another beautiful and totally unexpected addition to my list of recently loved albums. Aria Rostami is a San 
 Francisco based musician, sound installation artist, and firm score composer. I’d be lying if I said that I was 
 previously familiar with his work, but after listening to Form a few times, I decided to make an effort to find out 
 more. Thankfully this independent release is sponsored by Audiomoves, a digital label and distribution service 
 brought to you by David Newman (aka Autistici), the man behind Audiobulb Records, and as such is easily 
 accessible through its professional seasoned channels. Immediately, during my first listen, I placed Rostami 
 somewhere between the delicate glitch of Ametsub, deep bass rolls of Murcof and melancholic piano 
 progressions of Max Richter. Do any of those make any impact on your psyche? Well, you’ll be sure to love Form 
 then! Very cinematic in nature, rhythmic in structure, and digitally precise in its… well… form, the album explores 
 the everyday battle of life – its unstable, unpredictable and fragile nature. Jittery percussion sets the template for 
 ambient layers and piano chords, rising from the past to augment the present. Masterfully produced sounds 
 evoke suppressed memories through haunting melodies, dusty loops, and archived rhythm. On the surface, Form 
 reflects Rostami’s “understanding and appreciation for all things coming to an end“. But what Rostami maybe fails
 to notice, is that with this debut, he’s off to new beginnings. Easily a contender for our Best of 2011 albums! 
 Watch out for this one! Highly recommended!
 
 CHAIN DLK

 Some soft piano bitonal hiccups of the initial track Japanese Parisian intersecting some bumps which go by fits 
 and starts welcome the listener to the musical microworld of Aria Rostami almost like a breeze leafing through a 
 book, which silently helps the listener itself to look for some key explaining the entrancing beauty he's going to 
 discover. The mental images this talented composer, whose composition sounds heavily influenced by his previous 
 experiences with ambient pieces for film scores and installation, are as crystalline and glacial, as they've been 
 mainly recorded during last winter; many moments, which sound hanging from contemplative raptures and 
 soundproof daydreaming, evoke that feeling of precarious balance, entranced brittleness and harmonic delicacy, 
 which could resurface from musical memories sketches of contemporary Japanese music (think about some stuff 
 byTeruyuki Nobuchika, Ryuichi Sakamoto or Akira Kasemura), but tonal dynamics has often been propelled by
 rolling bass pulses and bleeps (a feature which is quite clear in tracks like Cleare or the lovely Klavs, where it 
 could remind some tricks used by Murcof) or deep electronic bass notes or droning sounds, which have been 
 wisely inoculated in the unstable piano melodies, such as in Daydream 26 or Mata Hari - my favorite track of the 
 whole album for its strongly dramatic tension -, who could be linked to some interesting workouts by musicians 
 such as Fennesz, Benge or Monoceros. In the final chapters of this sort of sonic narration, elements around 
 which sonic experience has been built on look like more rarefied and impalpable: the short piece Black Tile almost 
 imperceptibly debouches into the lake of ultra-low riverberating frequencies of Black Sands, whose recursive and 
 loopable structure and cavernous dusk looks like a sonic letterpress of something permanent even if sometimes 
 hidden like an old memory, the only part of this circuit which doesn't sound a "perishable" form, amidst so many 
 bittersweet raising of transience.
 
 
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