It's certainly true that American sound collage professor DAC CROWELL'S "Harmundum" is one of the stranger albums we've been confronted with during what has been a nicely diverse year, but then you'd hardly expect a CD with sleevenotes espousing the work of exploratory sonic pioneers like Karlheinz Stockhausen to come on like Westlife's new album, would you?
"Harmundum," though, certainly isn't for the faint-hearted, as it's basically one, elongated, and pretty much open-ended piece, which clocks in at an amorphous 56 minutes. As the sleevenotes suggest, it's an attempt to visit a world within the harmonies we hear in everyday life, and - in effect - its' drone-y, dreamlike atmosphere is actually a very mundane chord sequence slowed down so we can drop within and inhabit the 'hidden' harmonies we usually wouldn't even begin to hear.
Admittedly, such a project will inevitably test the endurance of the casual listener, and it's certainly true that this reviewer's initial reference points would include both John Cage and the curious, looped fragments used to torture Harry Palmer in the immortal "Ipcress File" movie.
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Nonetheless, while "Harmundum" is open to accusations of self-indulgence, it does have a strange, fragile beauty all its own and when all the fragments of chords gradually coalesce into one, the end result is truly hypnotic as the strange inner spirit sings.
Ultimately, "Harmundum" is undoubtedly worthwhile. Its' frailty quietly wins you over and its' unlikely private symphony blossoms before your very ears. It will confound people, sure, but I found it surprisingly refreshing. Crowell's concept of "listening within" is indeed worthy of exploration.
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