Bionulor | Bionulor
Oniron (CD/DL)
Here we revisit the 2009 debut of Sebastian Banaszczyk (Bionulor) out on Oniron, the artist’s own imprint, which has been remastered and extended with two additional tracks (both previously released on other compilations). This is described as “100% sound recycling” and was originally recorded between 2006-09. We also recently reviewed his A.S. release (which was our introduction) so it’s great to hear what preceded it.
Sometimes it’s smart to look back, to assess a decade of work, and Banaszczyk has released several recordings since this somewhat timeless sounding collection of ten pieces. From the steely hollowness of the opener NCHR.01 to the bonus tracks, this having originally been released in Poland may have had a limited reach, though social media and other technologies for delivering sound to an expanding audience has allowed such reminiscing. You can hear glimpses of his more pastoral sensibilities paired with cautious industrialism here. The sound is clean and direct filled with strings (straight and warped), synths and unexpected percussive left turns.
My guess is the Polish composer (actor and teacher) has spent significant time absorbing the time signatures, quietude and ambience of work by classical composers like Erik Satie and Clément Philibert Léo Delibes. There is a pure romanticism behind the abstraction, something quite forlorn and passionate (NCHR.03, L. HRP. RL.). And while he delivers these expansive, fibrous lines on and off throughout, he manages to fill in the blank spaces with such eroded and peculiar tracks such as NCHR.04. It’s simply haunted by its own past and future simultaneously. He finds soft spots and chasms in order to place the unexpected, and keep the listener engaged between nu-classical frills and effects-based chills.
My personal favorite track here is D. TMPS.05. The edges are tainted with rain shower-like hiss and crackle while the harmony is nectarous. A dreamy campfire-lit bedtime story. As for the extra two pieces, I was curious as to find the connection. First, DNST. 21.5 seems a little awkward, breathy and repetitive. But soon the minimized rhythm of repetition is what takes hold, that and the engagement of two sound plains slightly ajar. It comes off like a mnemonic, imperfect prod of some sort, only to dissipate without a sense of balance. 2.38, on the other hand, is a clever new ending. Banaszczyk has decided that concluding with a ghost in the machine is perfectly OK. This is like the memory of a Sunday mass in slow motion, like a real-time déja vu that you cannot control. A muted cliffhanger.
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