This artist seems to have his own literary agenda concerning the 16 short pieces on Stots, a solo outing both extremely subtle and superb. The listener whose knowledge of foreign languages is boobish, especially Dutch, may want to create their own mental imagery for these evocative performances. In one such head came the recollection of a South Carolina beach, Edisto Island, following a severe storm. The tiny shattered pieces of shells and other ocean flotsam, their details of shape and color seemingly too rich to fit on such a small surface, is the desired comparison rather than the cliched reference to awesome destruction quite often brought up in frustrated attempts to describe music that on the surface consists mostly of noise. One of the most impressive aspects of this Lukas Simonis CD, pieced together over 2005 and 2006, is how skillfully he maintains this focus on small events which are dispersed so quickly that they are like visuals flashing past the corner of one's eye. There are no indulgent repetitions or puffed-up climaxes aimed at knocking over tough customers. Melodic and rhythmic aspects do certainly emerge on tracks such as "Ippesa" and "Baljisrool," the latter allowing such musicality to slowly rise out of what sounds like backwards or digitally scanned guitar figures. Simonis certainly doesn't hide his abilities as a freaky picker, a cranky old man growling from the frets on "Jeiler V," while "Adoot" sounds like something horrible happening to the more obnoxious cast members of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. By the end of it all, "Hirk¡," his axe seems to have developed indigestion, no surprise considering this diet of ground up sea shells and hobbits. Meanwhile the listener who likes this kind of stuff will be ready to start all over again.
© Eugene Chadbourne /TiVo
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