Since 2011’s Assemblage Blues, Dan Melchior has proceeded to document the scope of vulnerability, carrying the torch of DIY through territory explored previously only in the wake of Pierre Schaeffer.
The Souls of Birds and Mice isn’t composed of elements so much as it is composed of the composing of elements. This is the sound of the digital workflow, transparent composition; wrenching the processing of Muura or Doc Wör Mirran and dismantling the investigative passivity. One could draw a comparison straight to Cornelius Cardew or Li Daiguo, but that’s just because Melchior’s work is so laterally referential it slows down any pull to deconstructing the singular voice to simple candidness. And it all ends with some of the most perfect psychedelic guitar work ever paired with helicopter sounds.
With the whole array of structural speculation drifting past, recall that all spatial language betrays—but who needs translation when the instinct purifies? However unreliable this container, it’s a given that this is Melchior at his most impassioned.