Robin Storey, recording now for over 15 years under his Rapoon guise, has amassed a body of work that categorically transcends even the "mythic" status of his former recording compatriots Zoviet France. Right from the stoned cycle of Dream Circle, well into the ethno concréte surrealisms of Raising Earthly Spirits, Vernal Equinox, Fallen Gods and some of his other classic mid-90s recordings, Storey has established an acutely individualistic syntax for Rapoon music that inhabits its own singular little corner of the universe. With a catalog now topping 40 albums (plus collaborations that have found him alongside sonic provocateurs such as Randy Greif and Victor Nubla, among others), he shows no signs of slowing down, and, in fact, continues to split genre lines so effectively their meanings become increasingly irrelevant.
Alien Glyph Morphology has its own "mythic" history. First released as a DVD extolling Storey as the consummate artist (his impressionistic paintings have adorned many a Rapoon cover, and he's an accomplished filmmaker and videographer/collagist as well), the literal recording first saw the light of day as a beautifully packaged collection of two 10-inch vinyl discs. Its compact cousin offers a somewhat different mix, replete with extended tracks and one extra work, and, as is de rigueur with all Rapoon releases, comes housed in a limited edition, hand-made, tri-fold tiger-print housing, bound in an embossed ribbon of rustic parchment. Objets d'art all, Rapoon releases embrace the design aesthetic that came to prominence in the 70s, keeping the flag flying for the kind of audio-visual sculptures fast fading away in this age of the fidelity-challenged MP3 and replicant-blank download.
Storey's music has navigated schizophrenic waters over the last few years, not necessarily a bad thing, moving away from the ethnic forgeries of recordings past and dabbling in everything from drum 'n' bass to rhythmless, rudderless ambient. Regardless of the genre-hopping, his productions reflect uncontestable elegance off their prototypically mysterious surfaces. The works scattered on Alien Glyph Morphology are unified by mournful trumpet samples that slap the melancholy on thick, yet each track works a thematic principle: disembodied voices, ticktock intermittencies and pregnant pauses inform the haunted cadences of "Chromium Dreams"; "Welcome to the Space Age" rescues ancient synth caterwauls and striations from oblivion, basking in a brighter technological sheen that runs contrary to Storey's older lo-fi productions; "Stealth Coming" sees the digital gamelan return in force, wrapped in trumpet gauze, redolent with the kinds of full-bodied loops that is the Rapoon trademark. Storey's fascination with extraterrestrialism, prehistoric markers, the tattered edges of occultist cultures from the ends of the earth, are as reverberant as ever, travelling the spaceways with his usual reliable surety and craftsman's touch.
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