Nocturnal Consolations the debut collaboration between the Slovenian multi-instrumentalist Iztok Koren and the Polish guitarist Raphael Rogiński is defined by its curious blend of reticence and patience and by its uncanny juxtaposition of idioms and themes.
Several of the earlier tracks including the album opener ‘I Put Horns On My Worries’ seem to set the template as the West African rhythms of Koren’s limpid kalimba wash over Rogiński’s more arid Eastern European folk stylings, with ‘I Put Horns On My Worries’ scrabbling torridly or flowing more decorously over the gravelly or sedimentary reverberations of the low end while a few songs later ‘Secrets Reveal Themselves Gently’ evokes the wriggling haze of Tuareg rock or the desert blues.
‘Island in the Midst of a Dried-Up Sea’ veers towards a distorted strain of Americana as Koren begins to elaborate his use of the banjo, fingerpicking and also making exemplary use of a bow to bring out the keening drones which are latent to the instrument. This brings the banjo close to another drone object which features throughout Nocturnal Consolations, the harmonium which is most closely associated with the Indian classical tradition and strains of devotional music.
So after a brief interlude on ‘Labyrinth of the Sea – Sunken Sun’ where Rogiński’s guitar plays shoegaze textures on ‘The Children Have Grown Up’ come the midpoint of the album, the duo flip perspectives with Koren laying out a rustic and poignant drone beneath Rogiński’s wiry guitar arpeggios then fingerpicking his banjo in the second half of the composition, his melodies roaming incessantly as the guitarist plays a winding and oscillating drone replete with feedback and effects.
As the album crosses the halfway mark these Nocturnal Consolations begin to seem more freewheeling and even more compelling or geographically diverse. Tines which are capable of steep outpourings and propulsive motifs but which also possess a certain soothing or lulling quality and even some of Rogiński’s local folk excavations take more of a backseat.
‘I Submerge Myself’ is in island mode as Koren plays the Trinidadian steel drum and some shakers while through wiry and tinny but placid strings, we get the hint of a surf melody or at least the froth and spume of the tide splashing against the shore. The guembri – a three stringed, skin-covered bass lute which provides the Gnawa music of southern Morocco with its low end or heartbeat – exchanges nice interlocking melodies with the guitar on ‘The Spirit is Becoming a Desert’, as Koren draws out the percussive aspects of the guembri beyond its use as a conventional bass instrument while Rogiński plays ornate cycles or revs his engine in the rearview.
After another interlude or scene-setting change of pace on ‘Labyrinth of Earth – Night Sun’, the duo begin to draw down on proceedings as Koren’s banjo on ‘Time Accelerates’ flickers, tremolos and bows up against Rogiński’s guitar. Finally on the closer ‘Labyrinth of Oblivion – End of Insomnia’ we return to a folk theme but the purview seems Middle Eastern rather than Eastern European as the guitar quavers and wanders over the woozy and stratified drones of the harmonium, which sounds more organesque or celestial in the sense of communing transmissions from outer space.
