It’s a wonderful idea, really. Taking the performance space as an equal part of the performance, and making the room an instrument and the audience musicians. On Red Room, a live performance by Jasons Kahn and Lescalleet was reduced by the latter to its very essence, re-worked to bring out the collaborative aspects of the sound, not only on the parts of the performers, but also that of their surroundings, animate and in-. It’s not entirely clear how Lescalleet altered the recordings, or how they might have sounded live, as Red Room strips the music of many of the telltale evidence of the duo’s synthesizers, percussion, and tapes. The in-between is what survives and thrives, more a nebulous sonic atmosphere than a collection of singular sounds. Louder volumes provide assistance in positioning oneself within the mix, though Red Room seems best when it all bleeds through the speakers in one fluid stream.
As for the thought that began this review, I’m not entirely certain whether Red Room is successful in its attempt to traverse the line that separates artist and audience. There’s little of the expected crowd shuffle and clatter, and what the actual Red Room adds to the recording isn’t readily apparent. It’s not a rule, of course, that a piece that doesn’t wholly succeed conceptually must fail aesthetically, and the opposite is often true here. Red Room, however, seems to have been primed especially for this particular listening experience, and, as a result, seems difficult, even impenetrable, at times. But, in both performance and post-production, Kahn and Lescalleet have crafted an album that certainly and subtly clouds the mind as it breathes and expands. Red Room proves to be a confounding and intriguing listen, and while its stated purpose is more conceptual inspiration than musical sensation, the disc is far from a total wash.
