I’ve enjoyed this downloadable album so much over the past few days that I figured it warranted a post of its own and a more considered review. Fortunately Dan Warburton doesn’t read this blog, because if he did he’d be on my back for writing reviews here when I still owe him some for ParisTransatlantic. So it’s a good job he doesn’t stop by here. Isn’t it Dan?

Originally intended for release as a CD on the Confront label, Ben Drew has instead chosen to make this album available as a free download from his website as he works on alternative material for the Confront release. The music that makes up the three tracks of A Folding Table was meticulously put together over a period of about a year, and it is admirable to say the least that after such considerable efforts a musician should be honest enough to feel that the final product does not merit a CD release simply because it does not reflect their current musical direction. The thing is, this suite of pieces would have made an excellent CD. We listeners, who worry not whether a piece of music is a good portrayal of a musician’s current work would have lapped it up with glee. Not that this matters in this age of zeroes and ones however as a few moments downloading and CD burning presents us with a disc as good as any we might have bought in a shop. Sort of.

The obvious question that strikes me about this release is the relevance of the title. I suspect (and I really have no idea having not discussed this with Ben) that the sounds used here might have been sourced from a simple folding table. The titles of the three tracks, A table top, A hinge and Some legs back up this theory, and although all of the sounds here are quite heavily processed and probably changed beyond recognition there does appear the odd moment here and there when something vaguely table-like sneaks through. I may or may not be right in this suspicion, and where the sounds originate is probably not that important when all is said and done, but if I am correct then I am all the more impressed that this set of works sounds the way it does given such a limitation as a starting point.

The music itself is wonderfully intricate, tense, dramatic, patient and urgent all at once. Although the last piece builds steadily to a bustling climax it is generally quieter music, with carefully chosen clicks, rattles and shudders ricocheting about in plenty of space. I should get out of the way the obvious comparisons to be made with the music of John Wall here. Indeed in places, and particularly on the first couple of tracks some of the sounds are reminiscent of Wall’s work, but coming from someone that places the music of John Wall up there at the highest level this is high praise rather than any hint of criticism.

The music has a lovely sense of pacing, slow passages luring the listener in, only to be hit by flurries of activity that pass by just as quickly and leave the music changed in some small way, a gentle drone left behind for a moment or a metallic flutter echoing a moment from earlier in the music. There is also a fantastic spatial arrangement to the music. The two channels are used to great effect, and the listener sat squarely between the two speakers is really presented with two sets of sounds that come and go, as if two sides of Drew’s musical character were duelling with one another. Eight minutes into the first piece after a low-key opening made up of desolate spaces interrupted by digital crashes a new sound suddenly rips out of the left speaker, and even after listening to the album three or four times over this moment still made me jump, as if it belonged to a different album suddenly switched on on the other side of the room.

The real gem of this album is the third track, the unceremoniously titled Some legs. After a luxurious bath of mulled samples that twists and turns through itself for ten minutes the music takes an upward turn and a series of overlaid digital shrieks swarm together to bring the music up to a peak before it falls apart again a few minutes later and creaks and groans its way to a conclusion.

In essence there is little original about the music on A Folding Table. The use of collaged samples and Max generated digital detritus to construct intricate music like this is not uncommon. The way the third piece builds to its fragile climax before coming down again has been heard a thousand times before. It is rarely (in fact very rarely) done this well this consistently though. Along with Wall’s Cphon and Hylic I am reminded of Helena Gough’s With what remains but really not much else is this successful in this area. Its possibly just a shame that while we have a CD from Drew to look forward to in the future it may sound quite different to this.

Once again, its available here.