With the development of studio and recording equipment, the absence of errors resulting from physical media and their wear and tear allows producers to strive for perfection. Distortion, noise, and lack of precision can be quickly eliminated or corrected in post-production. The transition from the analogue to the digital world seemed like a one-way toward soundproofed, perfectly acoustically tuned spaces. CDs replaced the symbolic ‘dirt’ of vinyl, the creaking of tape, and then streaming – a form of perfect, repeatable sound reproduction. The market for audiophile equipment has grown, minimizing the risk of ‘loss’ of quality. Modern spaces were supposed to enable 21st-century geeks to listen to music perfectly.
Meanwhile, I remember listening to the vibrating metal sheets on the walls as the bass lines shook violently during one of the DJ sets in the old industrial hall. Or a noise concert where the glasses on the club shelves rattled, clinking together with micro-sounds – until one finally fell. I like that moment when the bass is turned up too high in the car, and the doors start to vibrate, creating a strange, rough tremor. To me that only adds to the sound. The Speicher festival in Berlin was a unique experience for me, as it exploited the acoustic possibilities of an old water tank. The concrete walls prolonged the sound of the synthesizers, and the reed trio, tightly filling the interior, confused the ear: it sounded like analogue electronics, generating rough, thickening sound waves.
At almost two decades old, Emptyset have always gone beyond electronic music – experimenting with conceptual art, sound architecture, and installation. Their compositions often form quasi-sculptural forms, in which melody and harmony are less critical than timbre, texture, duration – and the relationship between sound, space, and matter, both physical and acoustic. They recorded Medium in an abandoned country manor house used as a resonance chamber. On the other hand, Material focused on the construction materials themselves – stone, wood, and metal – whose resonance and elasticity form the structure of the pieces.
Like Guy Debord of the Situationist International, Paul Purgas and James Ginzburg build situations. No more boring albums, they are interested in fabricating ambiences that reveal the independent life of acoustic matter. Space is not a backdrop or context here but a fully-fledged instrument – especially when the duo finds themselves in ruined buildings, bunkers, churches, castles, post-industrial or brutalist architecture, or spaces with strong reverberation or resonance.
Dissever was commissioned for the exhibition Electric Dreams at Tate Modern in 2024, dedicated to the history of art and technology. Purgas and Ginzburg reach back to the late 1960s when technological developments transformed art in all forms. Using the technology of that era, they created music ‘for space’ – in this case, for the monumental Turbine Hall. They used its natural reverberation and massive structure as an active element of the piece, placing speakers and transducers at various points. The listener did not stand beside the sound – they were in it.
Their new album is based on hypnotic, repetitive phrases using buzzing, distorted tube technology. The result is an aesthetic universe that is as if taken out of time. Rough layers of sound are underpinned by warm, pulsating bass lines, and fluttering loops induce a trance-like state. You want to listen to this music with your head buried in the speaker. Simply listening to it on headphones seems inadequate.
The crumbling, industrial bass forms thicken and intensify. Sometimes they are heavy and slow, as in the opening ‘Antumbra’, other times more rhythmic, as in ‘Gloam’, where repetitive sequences are dirtied with fluttering distortions. The minimalist tracks unfold over time – each is played live in one take. The recordings use old equipment, spatial recording techniques, and multi-track arrangements. Distorted tube technology is not just an artifact; it is a sonic ringleader, pulled from the past to create new kinds of trance-like sound forms in the present.
This music escapes perfection. It is spacious, building an acoustic world sculpture, developing from simple sequences into swirling, metallic, rough textures. As in ‘Penumbra’, a track maintained in a minimalist tone, the sound thickens and intensifies. A pleasant sound is flooded with a looped, metallic structure that reveals its hidden beauty. Closing the album, ‘Dawn’ sounds like a wave of sound flooding the listener with a hypnotic, swirling magma.
Dissever is a unique culmination of Emptyset’s explorations. It lies between composition, sound art, and acoustic sculpture. It explores sound in the process of decaying, its relationship with space and equipment, with the documentation of acoustic entropy, and self-perpetuating disintegration. The only question remains whether the way we listen to music today is adequate to the anointing with which Purgas and Ginzburg created their works. We can only hope that just as the world is learning to appreciate error, distortion, and randomness anew, albums such as Dissever will encourage listeners to stop and listen, allowing sound to resonate once again – in all its complexity, roughness, and beauty.
