Roberto Romero Molina
Serendibite
SCORE: 8.7
Through an intricate process involving field recordings, reel to reel tapes, samplers, and frequency interplay, R.R. Molina uses sound as a magnifying glass. The result is a set of elongated pieces that demand our full attention so we can appreciate all that lurk on a microscopic level.
When it comes to sound, Roberto Romero Molina's work has always explored that which may elude perception; his pieces are almost subliminal in that sense. Nonetheless, for all their quietness and subtleness they always feel enormous. This is a feature that a lot of so-called ambient artists lack, as they seem to be content with just holding a chord for more than five minutes, add some modulation whirls, and pretty much call it a day. All of this, of course, is done with super expensive gear that won't see any proper use until later on, and that's if they really delve into this type of practice out of something other than following a trend. Even if it ends up sounding good, it lacks substance.
The level of depth that Roberto Romero Molina achieves in his body of work, can only be obtained by meticulous sonic treatment combined with a sense of purpose. Each aural flourish, no matter how unperceivable it might be, it's not just there because of how it sounds and fits, rather than because of what it represents to the whole. His 2015 album, Serendibite, is no exception to this rule, and yet, as the artist himself puts it, it kind of went unnoticed; however, just like the details that hide beneath the soundscapes it contains, it is worth unearthing and analyzing.
The concept behind Serendibite justifies its multilayered nature: each piece is named after a rare mineral, and they all feel as if we were digging our way out -or in- revealing the details within as we slowly remove the dirt. Serendibite offers shiny and elongated sonic textures that feel like zooming into the minerals themselves to a molecular level. The tracks have minimal and repetitive movement, but even at their most static, they have something to reveal. Just as Gaspar Peralta -with whom Roberto has played fantastic improvised live sets- has said about drone music, stating that he hopes that “the audience will find something new in each repetition”, Molina always gives us something to look forward to.
Serendibite is the result of an intricate process involving field recordings, reel to reel tapes, samplers, and, as Romero puts it, a lot of digging, polishing, removing, adding, and removing again; and, honestly, it shows. Since the album opens, “Anthracite” slowly unfurls before us, starting off with subharmonics and a mid-range frequency gently colliding into a bass-heavy piece that feels cavernous and deep, while allowing some shimmers of light to come through. “Amphibolite” has a shinier veneer, leaving more space for breathing —we even have a hint of being closer to the surface given by subtle samples of field recordings (we can hear dirt and stones).
With the title track, we burrow back into the underground, but, unlike the first piece, we don’t go to suffocating depths. “Serendibite” feels more sparse in its movements, which allows the low, mid, and high frequencies to be noticeable on their own, instead of fighting to be discovered. Its sparseness may cost it some immersion points, but it segues nicely into the closing track, which sends us deeper into the Earth’s core. It is more sparse, the sound is thicker and we can hear a crumbling effect as if we were being buried. Molina effectively uses subharmonics and throbbing pulses to create the feeling of depth, and the way the album ends, with a beat sounding on its own, just gives it so much gravitas.
We could play this as background music, but I have never seen the point of doing that, especially with pieces that give an extremely vivid aural experience. All the tracks demand our attention to catch the subtleness of all those quasi-subliminal details that are hidden across the album like rare and precious rocks… er, minerals.
