(Dual Plover)

Gary Bradbury can rightly be considered to be one of Australia’s critical early forces in the development of electronic music in this country, having first emerged together with Tom Ellard as half of the much revered and internationally acclaimed outfit Severed Heads. At the time of Bradbury’s peak involvement with Severed Heads’, he contributed in the studio to sessions that became 1983’s jumbled freeform noise laden tape collage ‘Since The Accident’ and the starker synth driven sounds of 1985’s ‘City Slab Horror.’

Since these early outings, Bradbury’s involvement with Severed Head’s studio incarnation diminished as Ellard focused more on producing alone, although he still maintains a high level of involvement as part of the live outfit and creates video for Severed Heads tracks. In recent years, he’s also squeezed in time to co-ordinate the annual Big Day Out festival’s EAR Stage, which has featured Severed Heads live performances alongside those from Voiteck, Kazumichi Grime and believe it or not – Kissteria, as well as release an album as Size on Sydney based label Zonar Recordings with Jason Gee. And aside from constructing the music to accompany Sydney-based cabaret-noise artist Sweden, there’s the sound design for theatre – most particularly his 2001 soundtrack for King Lear.

All of this activity aside, ‘Ruffini Corpuscle’ represents the first solo release from Gary Bradbury since his now virtually impossible to get tape-only 1981 debut. Bradbury describes this album as ‘molecular glam – an eclectic selection of works amassed over the last three years incorporating a wide range of creative strategies and techniques including: customised pianola rolls, randomised digital cut-ups, dismembered vinyl and analogue synthesis.’ If that wasn’t enough to make the less hardy falter, the echoes of some of Severed Heads’ chaotic early 80s tape violence ringing in their ears, ‘Ruffini Corpuscle’ is released through Sydney’s Dual Plover imprint, whose founder Lucas Abela prides himself on releasing some of the most jarring music possible (witness Suicidal Rap Orgy).

Despite initial anxieties though, Ruffini Corpuscle is a stunning release that contains plenty of graceful idyllic moments of beauty alongside the more industrial crunch that some might be expecting. ‘Paws’ opens slowly with icy chiming tones and muffled bass drums, its almost Boards Of Canada-like glacial synth tones phasing in and out of range, before ‘Big Man On Campus’ cuts in at this point with jarring percussive slams and buzzing distorted bass, all curled around an unsettling looped sample of a little girl saying ‘love’ over and over again. There’s also a definite dark filmic absurdist aesthetic going on here as well, ‘Big Man On Campus’ is buoyed up by an unsettling dark carnival-like joy, while ‘Never The Less’ is more of a contemplative segue that sounds like it could have originated in some of Bradbury’s soundtrack work, its languid piano tones underpinned by wandering flute and shuffling percussion.

‘Speaker’ begins with clanking loops and camera snaps, slowly growing into an unearthly whirring of machinery and bass pulses around a cutup choir drone, before slow beats take the whole track up into a wistful rolling climax that’s reminiscent in timbre to some of Autechre or Plaid’s more heartfelt tonal moments. ‘The Van’ is an altogether more formidable proposition, its opening textures slowly being swallowed up by ever-increasing sheets of metallic distortion and digital signal processing in a manner similar to some of Pimmon’s work, while ‘Chubfuddeling’ is a minimal clicking ambient dub track filled with electronic skitters and pulses, digitally manipulated water droplets and video game sine tone synth beeps.

‘Boulevard of Broken Arms’ ups the audio violence quotient several notches, its initially pretty ringing tones descending into digitally-processed noise hell, before popping out completely unharmed on the other side. ‘Sinistrocyric Mobius Disc’ constructs a stuttering groove out of dismembered vinyl samples that can’t quite decide which way it wants to go and the fantastically titled ‘Fabio Goose’ plods along tentatively over glacial keyboard tones, the sampled sound of geese honking and slightly unsettling scraping sounds offsetting the initially charming vibe. ‘The Nectar of Instruction’ starts off with almost a samba swing in its step and builds slowly over radiant harp tones before crunching into heavy signal distortion, while ‘Filmore Honey’ rides an almost Gary Glitter-stomp beat, tinny movie samples layered over propulsive slap bass, plinking sampled percussion and jagged distorted synths.

‘Ruffini Corpuscle’ is an immersive and rewarding listen that slowly unfolds itself over repeated plays – it’s also a testament to the production abilities and creative imagination of Bradbury that this album covers so much ground, yet also packs in so much intricate detail. Most curiously, you would have never otherwise guess that this collection is in many ways an anthology of selected recent works from the past few years – it is simply that cohesive and consistent. It also has to said that this is one of the most beautifully presented examples of local CD packaging in recent memory, with the sleevenotes provided on an overhead transparency and stunning collage style art on a sleeve that seals with a velcro clasp.

‘Ruffini Corpuscle’ is a challenging and occasionally abrasive listening experience, but those with a taste for highly textured sounds and detailed, imaginative production won’t be disappointed. Essential listening for those into more menacing glitchy, digitally-processed sounds – there’s also a bonus ‘Corpuscle Plus’ CD available for download, which doubtless is worth chasing too…

Recommended for fans of: Oval, Pimmon, Paul Abad

Check out: www.bradbury.sevcom.com and www.dualplover.com