Rotifer-founder David Toro's moniker Peat Raamur has been circulating material amongst the cassette underground (I hate to label this circle) for the past couple of years via his own label alongside Housecraft and Cloud Valley. While Toro's discography may not be the most expansive, the project has managed to conjure and establish sounds that veil their own definition. While one could speculate that a guitar and/or keyboard is used, the coating of analog sewage renders the image so blurry that those instruments couldn't be confirmed.
Currants, the latest release to come of the project, travels down a path that previous works have neglected. This change is stressed from the very start, when a bouncy melody is reduced to a gargle as it cycles back and forth, varying in speed and harmony. Evinced by this opening track, the murk has been slightly lifted-- just enough to reel the textures out of their initially formless state. Obscurity remains prevalent, though, and if anything the marginal clarity has adorned the detail, variety and appeal of Peat Raamur. The only piece to channel the more amorphous work of releases like Stentor Cilia is the fourth, featuring an ever-blossoming mound of chords that enter whipping, percussive intervals.
Perhaps the title references the myriad of paths taken during these 33 minutes. Currants marks an instance of beautiful progression for Peat Raamur, dwelling within similarly cavernous surroundings, yet acquiring the ambition to enter new dimensions-- the most striking being the closer, which treks onto DJ Yo-Yo Dieting territory in its lumbering strut and palate for absurdity. Not only does this little tape characterize and hone a new sound, but it also stirs anticipation for future releases.
[Buy Currants from Rotifer]
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