Begun as a correspondence and fully realized as an in-person collaboration, Aufbruch captures and sustains an imposing air of alluring menace, an atmosphere that feels somber and distressed yet powerfully optimistic. “It seemed like we had the same sort of image in our minds,” Reuter says. “It feels like a dystopian future where the industrialized cityscape of the past has begun growing over with green. Which doesn't really surprise me.”
It’s true that the global conditions in which the album was produced might lend themselves to thoughts of rebuilding after an apocalyptic disaster rather then the somewhat more hopeful idea of preventing such disasters outright. But the Aufbruch, the “emergence” at which the title hints suggests that some remnant of humanity might be able to pull itself free from the wreckage and rebuild, about as cheery a thought as one could discern in these mesmerizingly bleak yet captivatingly rich aural landscapes.
That Reuter and Schwalm created such a vivid and cinematic set on their first meeting suggests the far-reaching imagination and gifts for intensive musical empathy that each man possesses. After trading files back and forth in an initial attempt at long-distance collaboration, the pair eagerly agreed to improvise together in the flesh. “When we met for the first time in my studio and started improvising, it was clear to both of us that a direct exchange was at least ten times more effective,” Schwalm explains. “We laid the foundation for eleven pieces in four hours.”
Reuter instigated the music on his self-developed Touch Guitar, digitally processed and manipulated in real time. Schwalm added his own colors via newly-devised synth sounds and later edited the improvisations into their final forms. On two tracks the duo is joined by the remarkable Belgian-born, Berlin-based vocalist Sophie Tassignon, whose late appearance returns a trace of the human to the stirring machine-made environments.
“Markus is the painter and I am the sculptor,” Schwalm says. “What made it very pleasant working together was that he incorporated so many ideas into the work process and gave me the green light to do what I wanted with them.”“It's a mystery to me how Peter does what he does,” Reuter adds. “I don't really understand the internal process he uses to make his decisions, but any decision he made was perfect for me.”
Both artists can boast a storied history of brilliant collaborations and startling sonic palettes. In 1998 Schwalm’s electro-jazz ensemble Projekt Slop Shop caught the ear of legendary musician/producer Brian Eno, instigating a six-year partnership that included recording the album Drawn From Life, composing the soundtrack to Nicolas Winding Refn’s film Fear X, and the creation of a multi-channel sound installation in the crater of the Volcano del Cuervo on the Spanish island of Lanzarote. Schwalm released Musikain, the first album under his own name, in 2006; since then he’s released four other albums, the last three for RareNoise: The Beauty of Disaster in 2016, How We Fall in 2018, and Neuzeit with Norwegian trumpeter Arve Henriksen last year.
Reuter's work as recording artist, solo performer and collaborator spans (and frequently fuses) electrophonic loop music, contemporary classical music, progressive and art rock, industrial music, world jazz, jazz fusion, pop songs and pure improvisation. Over the course of a two-decade career, he has been a member of multiple bands, ensembles and projects (including centrozoon, Stick Men, Tuner, The Crimson ProjeKct and Europa String Choir) as well as a solo artist. His prolific output bridges genres both within and between projects, and he has worked with a wide swathe of exploratory musicians including Ian Boddy, Robert Rich, Tim Motzer, Mark Wingfield, Asaf Sirkis, Kenny Grohowski and several members of King Crimson.
“Markus didn't come into the studio as a solo guitarist, but as a co-sound designer, co-improviser and co-composer,” says Schwalm. “He is extremely productive, an artist with unlimited creativity and a massive output.”
The swarming distortion of the title track inaugurates the album, growing from void to immense proportions from the emptiness of the ether, shrouding the listener in a swirling, shifting cloud of noise. The calming shimmers of “Von Anbeginn” are undercut by the agitated buzzing underneath, growing ever more insistent until the piece erupts into howling industrial rhythms. Reuter’s reverberant tones float weightlessly at the outset of the mournful “Rückzug,” while “Abbau” suggests images of rainfall spattering the rusted girders of an abandoned factory.
The distorted hiss and skittering, untraceable noises of “Ein Riss” presents the music at its most unsettling, while the spectral march beat of “Der lange Weg” has the haunting feel of a ghostly parade. The sudden appearance of Sophie Tassignon’s ethereal voice on “Lebewohl” is almost shocking in its introduction of a more organic feeling into the proceedings, prompting a more open, airy sensation in the piece. Tassignon also graces the following track, “Losgelöst,” one drone among many that contributes to the sound of a hybrid pipe organ. The album closes with the blissful, somberly soaring “Abschied,” a steely but determined gaze into an uncertain future.
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