Record Review - 3 December 04 2002

Before Thomas Brinkmann made “sounds” (his term for music), he studied sculpture and mathematics. And some might say he never really stopped sculpting or multiplying. The percussion and static loops that ground his tracks are made from razor cuts on the runoff grooves of the records from his collection; deep X’s provide the bass-drum sounds, shallow lines are hi-hats and the space between them shapes tempo. These geometric beats inflect the richly terse rhythms of Row, a compilation of new, reworked and unreleased material.

Brinkmann’s gurgling compositions may be calculated and boast generic titles, but they are hardly cold. The insistent gospel piano that propels his reassembled “max.E.4” evokes the exuberance of a tent revival with just one chord. Row’s most dramatic track, “n. m. q. p.,” transforms Nina Simone’s version of “Ne Me Quitte Pas” from a lament over a departing lover to an entrancing comeuppance. A vocal slice of Simone’s “pas” struts with poise over bongos and a brassy bass line, as if to say “no” to the possibility of her lover’s return, while reminding him of what he’ll never have again.

Leading the sassy, bottom-heavy march of “ribosom” is a professorial lecture about how the ribosomes of every human cell synthesize protein. The biology lesson seems out of place. But then, Brinkmann’s sounds are like dissections, peeling back the outer layers to reveal rhythm’s glistening universal code.??