Paul Jebanasam

Although not yet quite as well-known as his peers, Paul Jebanasam is an integral part of Bristol’s Subtext Recordings milieu, a loose cadre of erstwhile dance producers who have now moved onto far more conceptual and abstract art. While it is not uncommon for Subtext releases (this one included) to sound cringe-inducingly pretentious and/or overly grandiose on their face, the reality is that artists like Emptyset, Roly Porter, and Jebanasam are currently making (or at least trying very damn hard to make) some of the most ambitious and forward-thinking art in the experimental music scene. Admittedly, Continuum shares a lot of common ground with other artists like Tim Hecker, Johann Johannsson, and Ben Frost, but it does not feel derivative so much as it seems like Jebanasam heard the mangled organs of Ravedeath, 1972 and thought “Not a bad start, but it really should have gone much further.”

According to Continuum‘s description, Jebanasam (formerly Jabba from Moving Ninja) set out to accomplish nothing less than to create “a speculative soundtrack to a timeline stretching from the primordial emergence of organic life through to the unknowable trajectory of the universe, [which] explores the magnitude of science’s reach and the precarious role of humanity within this vast evolving system.” Knowing that, it is easy to see the opening piece as an attempt at recreating the Big Bang, but I did not find the album’s underlying concept at all important in appreciating the music. Also, the less said about the crazily obtuse, impenetrable, and overlong song titles, the better. 

Lofty ambitions aside, however, Continuum is actually not a particularly complex album at all at its core, as each of these three lengthy pieces is essentially built on the exact same simple idea: take a lushly epic chord progression or a lovely melody, then completely blast it with cascades of stuttering white noise. Hell, sometimes Jebanasam even leaves out the “chords and melody” part. The magic, of course, lies in the execution and Jebanasam proves himself equally (and brilliantly) adept at composing sweeping Romantic melodies, unleashing satisfyingly ferocious eruptions of electronic entropy, and focusing closely on small-scale textural nuances. Well, perhaps “equally adept” is an oversimplification: Jebanasam’s compositions are undeniably quite good, but his abilities as a producer/sound designer are on another level altogether. These pieces work so well because Jebanasam is able present his themes with both crystalline clarity and visceral force. When it comes to details, Continuum is actually every bit as complex as its root concept.

While Continuum‘s three pieces are essentially just variations upon a single very good idea, each nevertheless has its own distinct identity. For example, the first piece (“Depart”) is initially a lovely, droning two-chord organ piece before it becomes consumed by rapturous, reverberating eruptions that shred it into mere stuttering, crackling snatches of its former self. Despite all that chaos, the underlying music still manages to sneakily evolve over the course of the piece into more soundtrack-esque grandeur as swells of lush strings begin to surge through the white noise apocalypse. 

That Romanticism is short-lived, however, as the final destination of “Depart” turns out to be a crushingly dense wall of buzzing, fuzzed-out drone. The tender and beautiful “Eidolons” dials down the intensity quite a bit, resembling a beautiful string piece heard through a broken radio: grainy, wobbly, hissing, and prone to unexpected volume shifts. Stylistically, it shares a hell of a lot of common ground with William Basinski’s loop experiments, but Jebanasam lacks Basinski’s self-imposed restraints, so there is quite a bit more variation and activity here. Naturally, Continuum closes in resurgent fashion with “Search Another,” though it takes a while to get there, as it is mostly just all drifting, diffuse, and splintered atmosphere until Jebanasam unleashes an onslaught of pummeling, blown-out techno bass-drum hits. Melody is absolutely nowhere to be found until the warm, dreamy, and almost mass-like coda, but the piece still works quite nicely as a massive, throbbing, and roiling show of controlled force.

Significantly, Continuum is one of those rare albums in which there are a number of elements that rub me the wrong way, but the ambition and execution are impressive enough to win me over regardless. For example, the 16-minute “Search Another” feels like it is built upon the most cursory of foundations and also seems to mash two unrelated pieces together, yet Jebanasam puts on such a stunning display of Ben Frost-style maximalist bludgeoning that it renders the composition itself largely irrelevant. Similarly, there is no clear reason why it needs to be so goddamn long, but it is essentially a spectacular sonic fireworks display from start to finish, so I cannot say it necessarily overstays its welcome. 

Also, while it is extremely easy to spot Jebanasam’s major influences, he does a truly admirable job of transcending them. He seems to be an extremely observant and resourceful sonic magpie, assessing what is possible, then using that merely as a jumping-off point. While shades of other artists abound, they are almost always filtered confidently into Jebanasam’s own vision (not always seamlessly, but always effectively). And, of course, much of Jebanasam’s music is absolutely wonderful: “Depart” is 15-minutes of absolute heaven and “Eidolons” is not far behind it at all (even if it is noticeably more subdued). Consequently, Continuum is at least 2/3 of an absolutely perfect album and the remaining third is delivered with such force and virtuosity that any flaws are almost beside the point. I realize that it is only February, but I can guarantee that this album will be on a hell of a lot of “best of” lists at the end of the year.

Listen here.