Buy the album on Amazon – Vinyl | MP3 | CD
I’m going to start off this post by being completely honest. I had no idea who Apparat was before listening to this album. As in, I hadn’t even heard Sascha Ring’s alias in passing. I actually had to Wikipedia him. And when I did, I found out that “The Devil’s Walk” is his eighth album, and his first with Mute Records, the label that brought us Depeche Mode some time in the 80′s. I didn’t get too much information from his very short bio, nor did I get a correct idea of what his music sounded like from his picture, which makes him look like a younger, quieter Gregg Gillis.
Wikipedia also told me that he’s “more interested in designing sounds than beats,” which means he’s not the European version of Girl Talk. Indeed, making sounds (and beautiful ones, at that) is what he’s doing in “The Devil’s Walk”. I was expecting a synth-full, techno delight straight from the darkest, most strobe-light filled Eastern European nightclub, but instead I found an oddly settling, wonderfully harmonious album reminiscent of Balmorhea. It slowly fades in with the beautiful “Sweet Unrest”, in which soft vocalization and clapping wash over bells and slight whistling noises. The follow-up, “Song Of Los”, pairs Ring’s steady vocals with persistent but not overpowering synth beats that sound like a dewy morning walk, if you’ll pardon the cheesy imagery.
The beauty of “The Devil’s Walk” lies in that every song has its very particular character, and yet, somehow, the album still maintains a certain integrity and grand identity that defines it as a whole. For every “Black Water”, a soft, melodic track in which Ring’s voice combines sweetly with a female vocalist’s, there is a “Goodbye”, slightly creepy and trailing away from the harmonious to border on the rough.
Apparat returns to his roots as a purely electronic artist on “Candil De La Calle”, with synth beats overlapping more synth beats and ever-so-slighty distorted vocals. And there are also beautiful, sweeping tracks like “The Soft Voices Die” and “A Bang In The Void”, both of which start off pastorally and build to gorgeous crescendos which juxtapose familiar sounds – literally bells and whistles – with some more challenging ones. There mgiht even be some maracas in there.
So, I thank you, Wikipedia, for giving me just enough information to pique my interest enough to listen to an artist who, despite his relatively long career, was unknown to me until now. Apparat is definitely worth checking out, and although he doesn’t exactly produce the most accessible music – this album takes a few spins to take off – he’s definitely talented and, with a little patience, will grow on almost anyone.
Connect with Apparat: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Last.fm
