In exercises of fragile minimalism, Christian Fennesz and Ryuichi Sakamoto are suitably versed. Both artists have built themselves reputations for delivering delicate compositions with the most negligible of instruments to aid them. Most of the time, in fact, there are hardly instruments at all - merely laptops and programs that digitize soundscapes and process midi commands. Take their 2005 EP, Sala Saint Cecilia, as an example -- one 20 minute track of synthesized resonance. Its glacial façade is certainly otherworldly, but it’s stumbling block remains its impenetrability; without being necessarily offensive, the fact that the track was recorded live certainly attests to its lack of pragmatism. But what the duo lacked for its churned out debut has certainly been rectified here with Cendre.

The immediacy of Ryuichi’s compositions here instantly endear themselves to the structure and coherence of Fennesz’s swirling and brooding ambience. The reverb laden piano (and its panning and distracted nature) is the record’s selling point, at times off kilter and phasing through seemingly random melodies, and at others in perfect harmony with the accompanying frenetic atmospherics. Although this dynamic has certain romantic traits at its core, the criticism that the duo only have one direction is perhaps justifiable. As captivating as the piece of work is, the aura is somewhat suffocated by a nagging predictability. Considering how many copies of Endless Summer we’ve all worn out, it’s not surprising that all these processed guitars are starting to sounding a tedious - well, maybe it’s the not the actual sound so much as their literal implementation. Could you suggest there’s even an arc to experimentalism that peaks, per se, with an Endless Summer or a Draft 7.30 or even a Music Has The Right to Children, that marks an emotional connectivity that seems somewhat impassable? It seems somewhat appropriate, then, that Cendre’s sentiment stems entirely from Ryuichi fingers.

Opener “Oto” perhaps contextualizes this essence the most; following an ominous drone of force fed acoustics, the piano accompaniment is a searching and haunting voice that flitters in and out of the duration. As soon as the first notes are heard, it becomes apparent that we’re not listening to the lingering keys, but rather waiting for the next ones to appear: as with timeless classical compositions, you have to listen to the notes that aren’t being played as well as the ones that are. It encompasses a commonly held maxim: that all music is subjective. Where Cendre will succeed or fail, however, is in our perceptions of beauty. Although it can be argued that the record is somewhat conventional (in terms of Fennesz’s output, in particular), you’d be a damaged soul if you couldn’t feel the depth and clarity of “Haru”, a blissful and noteworthy example of what can still be achieved with the most basic of traditional and experimental instruments. A gamble worth taking for this track alone.

 - Alex Bradshaw