THE BLACK SQUARE

The thematic concepts distinguishing this work are absence and silence; the ineffable exchange between viewer and image; random moments of stillness within a landscape in flux. Using a minimalistic, electro-acoustic approach, this elusive patchwork of field recordings and electronics merge the world of shadows and colors. These memory-recordings expose the complex relationship between music and silence. They say that the ambient umbrella constantly expands the notions of what music might be. The Black Square could be wordless new ear poetry for the constant listener. I think that The Black Square might be a series of sound situations that flow and change as they go. The sharp piercing ringing metal sounds are brief and intense, the sound always changes. Safe to say, there are lots of things happening here, from the opening, a fantasy world of shattering chimes and an electronic rumbling plus the piano.

When I listen to The Black Square events, I think that these sounds include musical elements but something is different. I don’t know. Maybe this is a soundtrack to a theatrical experience, all expressed with just sound and with no words except the song titles. This could be some kind of science fiction. This could be gothic horror. The Black Square could be the new chamber music of the days ahead. We can probably call it electronic music and just move on to trying to describe how it feels to listen to it, based on personal opinions and feelings or conversational facts.

To me, the sound is constantly transforming and sometimes repeating. I think about how all these stories came along in a dream, a repeating sequence of events going from one scene pausing and then another scene taking over. Sometimes things get solid, eventually things melt away, allowing change to come again. These dreams with odd things happening are not distressing in any way, the atmosphere is mostly calm.

Looking upwards, “nearly cloudless” (5:06) opens with some high pitched oddsounds while in relaxed endless fields we wander. We are opening up that fantasy world mentioned earlier, with the various chimes and a rumbling piano, broken by some intense and unusually high pitched metal ringing. There are quiet stretches and moments when things are happening all around. And then there is the chopper, some kind of a flying machine that passes nearby, with low and loud pounding, barely suggested in this mixture of afternoon and midnight. There is no danger.

Now for the second track, “evidence to the contrary” (5:24). Here the sonic brew contains the cosmos and the transient elements, all in the atmosphere of strange formal coherence. I feel my senses relaxing, with sequences of odd sounds that form into familiar moments, a piano floating in the cosmos. The action is less sparse now than it has been, we go into a lot of electronic places, and the piano completes the moment. Bringing a constantly changing series of new audio pictures, “disparate images” (6:02), where there is a dark floaty piano, where some big echoey slow low notes emerge as we go drifting. I think I see a series of vignettes in a cycle, recognizing bits that were present earlier, with that high pitched tone that starts hot and then brings forth a bit of the dawn, a piano memory, an episode with melodic elements, a new alien saucer has arrived. Something happened, I don’t know.

A constantly changing series of new audio pictures ::

Reawaken to friendly spring peepers, “a kind of memento” (5:10) with a hint of a simulated samba clicking, rising out of those big slow echoing piano notes. The flow is smooth, no bumps. I hear a more complicated time beat that comes and goes and a new world starts here again. Again, those peepers lost in the piano have come back, using glitchy harsh field recordings with some crickets later too, and fading out into that old piano with the presence of so many memories. The passing subsequent episodes bring change and repetition, and so forth until it ends with no tears for the crickets of the night.

I remember the rough sound of a phonograph needle traveling across the wind-out at the end of a vinyl disc. Merge some long slow sustained drones and gradually changing electronic elements, “stories of empty light” (5:42). I think I hear an account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment, blended so you don’t find the beginnings and ends, new episodes with new rhythms and repeating microbeats inducing gentle madness. Another scenario takes form and then melts, new textures coming and merging or fading away. Wordless, the story bubbles along, changes come and go, until we hear again the sound of the vinyl wind-off at the end of the track. Now I have given it away, not really, none of this is possible.

I might hear electronic brass with bass tones and sparse lingering piano of course, “the difference was” (5:18) the walls are strange on purpose. Maybe we are exploring an off-hours fun house when nobody is around and it is dark. Things are more busy on this track, more parts fit tightly together, allowing wobbling wanderers to make hornlike sounds and call forth more darkness. All of the sudden another room opens and things are different, soon gone.

Enjoy the flowing fog of atmospheric mystery and engaging, skillfully muffled curiosities. Something is saying something without words, here is a new dungeon, and a piano in the darkness. Horns and shadows, at the end of the track we are eaten by big quiet electronic night bugs. Like me, you try to assemble the clues and see the big picture, “platitudes notwithstanding” (5:52). Behold, another saucer with an alien traveler operating some kind of electronic gadget has landed over by the piano. Atmospheres come and go, by the end of the track the whole thing comes together as another well formed mystery.

Some kind of curious electronic tingling ::

Now the sun is out and the fields are green, I hear crickets and some kind of curious electronic tingling. This is an “ordinary instance” (5:18) with new rings and tings and electronics, encased within haunting drones. I think it is getting louder for a moment then falling back. Now I hear water and forest birds. The track continues into other bowers and other situations, rising up into the skylight with a few more of those playful distinct metallic tings. I still hear the ringing creatures, now it is getting strange out here. Hissing pops and repeating glitches as the needle again goes back into the wind-off.

Here comes the choir, the sound of the whirling knives come and go, now the choir is gone too and only the mystery remains. Time continues, the rain sweeps in, the wind picks up, building up and whirling away, sometimes I find more silver bubbles under the moon. Imagine explaining the way the light is changing at dawn, these are “marked circumstances” (5:40).

The concluding track begins with a piano and clouds, or forms that seem like clouds, “between two phrases” (5:24), opening into a new hall of mirrors with smoke created by electronics and deeply reverberating slow pianos. I hear throbbing beams with repeating elements that come and go, layered between suspenseful drone layers. Sometimes I think I hear something played backwards, that always sounds cool. I coast upon a loopy trance-inducing semi-melodic crystal with deep hollow space bumps. In a dream everything changes or ends, never providing any explanation, nor is one necessarily required.

— IGLOO MAGAZINE

AN AUXILIARY VIEW

Ümlaut (aka northern Connecticut-based Jeff Düngfelder) elevates An Auxiliary View, delving light years into transparent soundscapes, expansive musique concrète, microscopic glitch mechanisms, and static pulses for the consistently adventurous Audiobulb imprint. These dozen captivating audio Polaroids manage to inhabit finer fragments and fluctuating fissures that Düngfelder meticulously expands upon. “In exchange, offering”‘s bubbling synth swells drive home this message where darker soundtrack elements surround us, as “Gaze back into you”‘s minuscule field recordings are looped into a repetitive and melodic pitter-patter sequence that eventually transforms into a cinematic supernova midway through.

An Auxiliary View delivers a perspective that looks at the world from a tangential angle. Its tracks range from the exploding auditory wonder and gloom of “When work speaks” to the more upbeat yet undulating beauty of “Always some reason.” The album simply ebbs and flows in all the ways that we find comforting (and baffling) as Ümlaut focuses on intricate otherworldly strata. Where hundreds of found sounds are condensed into solitary and surreal collections, all the brittle bits and bobbles of life migrate into a singular whole. Modern classical segments brush against grittier contours and snapshots of nostalgic images that we didn’t realize were right in front of us the whole time.

Closing with a four chapter series of tracks all titled “Attacked by ideas,” Düngfelder gathers a diverse and intricate stream of broken noises, glitch sound bytes, and ambient whirs, barely grazing the surface of a smorgasbord of deftly woven sequences evoking complex dreamlike moments. “Surrendering to the highly detailed textures, timbre and weightlessness of its alchemical sound-blending,” An Auxiliary View is a perplexing and beautiful sonic panoramic of epic proportion.

— IGLOO MAGAZINE

Jeff Düngfelder alias ümlaut continues his work as a texture sculptor, building moving atmospheres with mineral poetry. An Auxiliary View is a trip to futuristic regions, where crystal mountains let their snow -capped glaciers flow, whirlpools of microscopic materials. The melodies form cities with compact transparency, walls impermanent in incandescent ephemerics. Ümlaut is the architect of suspended worlds, placed on the edges of an infinite crossing of invisible materials. The molecular-like structures float in a magma of intertwined filaments, around spheres escaped from a time space with desynchronized circular movements. Exciting.

— SILENCE AND SOUND

SACRED SITES

The American sound artist Jeff Düngfelder has just released a new digital album from his Ümlaut project. The work entitled “Sacred Sites”, which contains eight pieces each exactly eight minutes long, is Düngfelder's homage to the arid regions in the southwest of North America, which he got to know during his many years in Los Angeles. The focus is on places, mostly in the states of Arizona and New Mexico, which are sacred from the point of view of the local indigenous people. “Sacred Sites”, which is based on electronics and numerous field recordings, is an album of quiet, subtle tones, which, with the appropriate attention, unfolds its very own complexities and reveals a multitude of musical and sonic ideas. The accompanying text states: “Without any embellishment and simple, yet complex in its elegance, the magical qualities of the desert - with its heat, vastness and ghostly sounds - are subtly woven into a sound palette of picturesque colors under a changing sun. Experimental sounds, seamlessly interwoven with field recordings and electronic distillation, give rise to an inventive and sophisticated form of minimalism. Complex and richly textured harmonies flowing in and out of complex rhythms create an otherworldly essence reminiscent of the Aboriginal Dreamtime. Melancholic sound networks evoke the magic of an ancient past, unfixed in time, resembling Espaces de rêves (dream spaces).”

— AFRICAN PAPER

GENERATIONAL DRIFT / THE CELESTIAL SPHERE

Darren Harper and Ümlaut create one long dreamy track and eleven short fragmented listening experiences.

A sonic tapestry of evolving beauty and internal perceptions:

The first track (two versions, full and excerpted), is from Darren Harper—”Generational Drift – A seasonal reflection in four movements” (22:06)—wanders through a tactile and circular movement of explorations and minimalistic patterns of generative structures, each arrangement allows itself to occupy its own space within the theme, and variations evolve with harmonious and unrestricted woven textures, subtly offering an openness and tranquility. “Generational Drift” is a long-form piece that is a sonic tapestry of evolving beauty and internal perceptions.

The sound is flowing and dreamy, fragments of sustained piano, synthetic winds, some rare interesting hissing sounds, this listener was just floating on a lazy moment with everything done, so there is nothing but time to dream some more. This could be the new summer. This could be a new summer night. As the track progresses, things are getting more dense, soaring sky reflections and tinkering bits of other instruments that follow one after the other, leading nowhere complicated. Something new comes and goes, the notes are repeating slow patterns, up in the sky things call with long notes. The fragments of sustained piano have almost kept constant while so many other things have emerged and faded. Now the notes are holding, sustained into a wall of ambient sound, is this a bigger change? The fragments of sustained piano return. The things in the sky are fewer, less continuous. This is blissful relaxing empty minded dreaming stuff. Release the butterflies! Now watch them drift slowly away. Towards the end things get dense and if you were sleeping now you are not. The ending has a surprise.

There is an excerpted version that covers pretty much the same territory in less than two minutes. I did not catch the four movements in distinct segments, they are not clearly defined, but that is not a problem. Overall this is a perfect expression of the ideas that flow when there is time.

Eleven two minute fractured short-formed pieces ::

The next part, which is the second half of the split album, is titled Ümlaut, and consists of eleven two minute fractured short-formed pieces of audio activity collected around themes suggested by the track title, each track is designed to flow steadily, without any major bumps or shocks, while adjoining each other with a disjointed tension, sometimes off-kilter but always focused with a thought-provoking structure. Ümlaut navigates his way through contrasting and conflicting elements and carries the listener through a maze of articulations and random jazz-infused electronic segments, choosing to avoid traditional form and creating something uniquely dynamic and engaging, all wrapped-up inside a sonic cosmos. But what does that sound like?

The first track is “alidade” (2:00) which blends fragments of a beat like a heartbeat with noodling orchestra and some darkness the piano has moments; “ellipsoid” (2:00) begins with testing the keyboard something passes by and makes a melody with a tempo soon lost mystery follows with distractions; “monoscopic” (2:00) features ringing suspense and nervous rattling motion in the distance and playful moments; “bathymetry” (2:00) goes deep I hear a tap on metal reverberations and distant odd creatures calling sparse and dark something friendly comes closer; “subsidence” (2:00) thrives with a violin string done with electronics sparse keys odd random textures until the violin revisits then it gets shorter with things changing quickly; “clinometric” (2:00) brings suspense from the start but things change and there is a wandering feeling some tapping comes and goes new textures pass by change is constant; “choropleth” (2:00) goes up and low, in and out, now a beat, nothing lasts, now a musical cave, now a dropped object, the textures have clusters then change comes again; “stereoscopic” (2:00) reveals little things on the floor in the dark some ringing and flittering sounds musical sometimes or sustained momentarily at other times something might have landed something else is still flying; “trilateration” (2:00) has what sounds to me like vocal fragments and wandering keyboard moments odd clicking or rolling sandbox triggers; “cadastral” (2:00) has fragments of buzzing with decorative keyboard chording these fragments are bigger than the previous ones a cowbell at the end; “planimetric” (2:00) resumes some looping swirling growing disappearing changing clashing blending then it just stops. I think this is interesting without being soporific or annoying.

You put these two artists together and you get one long dreamy track and eleven short fragmented listening experiences.

— IGLOO MAGAZINE

ZEPHYRS, STREAMS, BIRDS AND BEES

Jeff Düngfelder, known as Ümlaut, is an experimental composer and sound artist from the United States who currently lives in northern Connecticut. Unburdened by life's big questions and feeling in harmony with the nature that surrounds him, he now brings subtle and airy soundscapes through his beautifully titled album “Zephyrs, Streams, Birds, and Bees,” which references Keats' “Ode to Psyche.”

This release differs from his usual detailed and fragmented sound style. This might be confusing at first, but as Jeff describes the album as “an exploration of vehicles of peace and tranquility,” you will soon feel that you are on familiar ground. Instead of shifting rhythmic figures, the album features hypnotic choral voices that float like zephyrs - gentle spring breezes, pleasantly refreshing as you immerse yourself in soundscapes filled with tranquility.

— DRONTOLOGY

ANALOGIES

At the beginning of “Analogies”, the new album by the trio consisting of Jeff Düngfelder (electronics), Mike Brown (contrabass) and Joshua Trinidad (trumpet), there is an ambient and at the same time edgy soundscape: robust, often scraping and scratching sounds beckon you in a still unknown sonic cosmos and at the same time illustrate that there is no comfort zone waiting in it. After just a short time, another feature of this world becomes apparent when one of the first breaks occurs, after which a clear tinkling and percussive handling imply a new direction. But all directions here seem to be of a temporary nature and only apply to a short series of moments. The basic character of “Analogies,” on the other hand, will only reveal itself over time and in other ways.

After a break of almost three years, during which the three artists pursued other musical activities (we reported again and again about Düngfelder's Ümlaut project), they are now continuing their old production cycle with the aim of using experimental means between ambient, sound-artistic and jazzy characteristics to create music that is meditative and challenging, which is not a paradox in serious ideas of meditative anyway. One of the sources of inspiration was probably Melville's novel Moby Dick. A constantly reinventing movement, as we have already found in Düngfelder's single-handedly produced works, also characterizes this album.

What already becomes clear in the opening “Consider, Once More” is the sketchiness in which almost perfectly designed small miniature scenarios briefly appear: warm, grippy bass sounds on the basis of streaming electronics; a passing whirlpool of percussion and slightly unsettling noise; something that seems like a piano touch and opens the door to exciting tweeters; smooth trumpet sounds in the style of so-called dark jazz as the culmination of dynamic movements with a virtual jazz broom; and always new melodic narratives, where you may always believe that they will stay and tell their story to the end, but the joy of the creative reset always prevails. These things also support the invitation implicit in all of the briefly outlined scenarios to let oneself fall into the music as if into a quiet lake that has nothing in common with Melville's raging sea.

Of course, each of the pieces on “Analogies” has its own unmistakable characteristics, which are often revealed in the always different sequence of small scenes designed. In its leisurely manner, “The Subtleness of the Sea” seems more distant, “happy” at the beginning despite the crackling noise, but this time it is Trinidad's trumpet that is the first element to introduce a tension that becomes more and more of something through a change in the existing sound material transformed into something clearly dramatic. In other tracks, quite complex percussive motor skills emerge from a dark drone to the surface and form the prelude to broken, nimble beats and string-like tension builders. And again and again we encounter individual motifs in the network-like structures, take on new functions and form new connections, and you get the feeling that when listening you don't even necessarily have to follow the arrangement of the tracks, but can design the sequence of scenes according to your own ideas.

It may come as no surprise that deja vu can arise from all of this. Sometimes reminiscences of rhythms of Asian origin seem to arise, and with the interaction of bass and the adagio of the trumpet, memories of the pathos of cinematic showdowns are awakened; rustling leaves, footsteps and aquatic gurgling seem to pick up on familiar motifs, which in the end are just as much due to the associations of the recipient can. After the crackle reminiscent of fire or a needle on a vinyl disc, the final “The Wit Thereof” pulls out numerous stops again and disappears with cool, lively dance steps into a distance filled with stretched synths, while the bright blobs of a silenced trumpet mark the end credits.

— AFRICAN PAPER

ABANDONED SPACES

Michel Mazza and Jeff Düngfelder live a few hours by train north of New York, among endless parks and forest-green hills. For years they lived in NYC experiencing the city's rich music scene. Mazza was born in Buenos Aires and moved to the United States as a boy; Jeff Düngfelder has lived most of his life in Los Angeles and New York City. Ümlaut has released a dozen works, moving from the ambient-techno of “Vasco De Gama” (Carpe Sonum Novum, 2017) to the dreamlike textures of “Half The Speed ​​Of Light” (released only on Bandcamp in 2023). Mazza followed similar paths to those of Düngfelder, publishing around twenty electronic albums in fifteen years, imbued with rock and jazz flavours, as well as having composed music for films and television commercials. Both musicians share a passion for “Another Green World,” Brian Eno's masterpiece released in 1975. “Abandoned Spaces” is their first collaboration. A collection of eight songs suspended between bucolic ambient atmospheres, arpeggios of guitars played on tiptoe, gusts of synthesizers, bells, percussion and little else. The first two tracks of the album, “In Numberless Forms” and “Sleepy I Slept”, immediately clarify where the heart of the two American musicians beats, between the twilight electronics of Taylor Deupree, the dreamy psychedelia of Hammock and the omnipresent Eno. On the homonymous “Abandoned Spaces” the psychedelic vein of the album emerges more evidently, between the glissando of the six strings in the foreground, some distortion and the liquid groove defined by the brushes of the drums. The eight long tracks in the setlist, over sixty-five minutes long, create a single sound flow, which, despite without explosions and twists, is extremely enveloping and with attention to detail.

— ONDAROCK MAGAZINE

Between jazz and ambient music, OdNu + Ümlaut (Michel Mazza & Jeff Düngfelder) do not choose, composing according to their intuition pieces which navigate between the two universes with a certain harmony. Giving pride of place to luminous guitar notes accompanied by various effects, samples, scattered beats and varied textures, the duo gives life to a set of pieces without real direction, and therefore very adventurous.

— POSSIBLE MUSICS

Ümlaut, or Jeff Düngfelder, who lives in northern Connecticut, makes particularly subdued, but also very varied electronic music. This year 'Same but Different' was released by Audiobulb and 'Everything in its Own Place' by Esc.Rec and for February of next year 'Abandoned Spaces' is planned, also on Audiobulb, an album he made with kindred OdNu, the alias of guitarist Michel Mazza. So every opportunity for a portrait of this versatile composer and musician on the basis of these three albums, only available as a download.

About 'Same but Different' Düngfelder says: “The album cover and musical tracks were inspired by a piece of art that hangs in my bedroom. For weeks, as I lay on my back after surgery, I looked at the painting every day. It became a sort of meditative practice. Up until my recovery, the meaning of the painting had eluded me. But over time, a closer focus on the artwork brought forth a revelation. The painting was about being reborn. New life, with no attachment to the past and no expectation of the future”. Opener 'No Beginning' sounds disturbing at first, with a strange crack, but soon it gives way to a more pleasant kind of tension. That of a very varied soundscape, certainly containing elements of ambient, but also of noise and musique concrète. A line that is extended in 'Exystence', a piece that shapes the above words of Düngfelder in everything. And music that, as previously noted, often has a pleasant form of tension, which 'Observing the Visions' testifies beautifully, partly thanks to those percussive sounds that Ümlaut performs here, just like the more subdued sounds of 'The Mind-Stream' and 'Causes and Conditions'.

For 'Everything in Its Own Place', Düngfelder was inspired by a hearing test he received some time ago. It is also a somewhat more subdued album than 'Same but Different', although the sound world in opener 'To Charm Motorways' is immediately recognizable. A fascinating combination of ambient, noise and field recordings is presented to us here by Düngfelder. A convincingly varied sound world also in 'Ingratiating Ourselves with Birds'. And we also encounter the necessary exciting moments on this album, for example in 'Veering through the Cortical Night' and 'An Almost Invisible Literature'. It is striking that Ümlaut's music always has something fragmentary, casual. Patterns are rarely really worked out, more often there is talk of laying mosaics. In terms of tension and variety, 'Sleepwalking to Oblivion' should also be called, partly because of the irregular rhythm. 'The Great Twin Leitmotifs' are also special, because of the creative use of noise and 'This Immense Motionless Pause', because of the futuristic sounds that Ümlaut mixes here with ambient--like sound nebulaes.

As mentioned, we hear Ümlaut on 'Abandoned Spaces' together with OdNu. The sound here is less experimental and the pieces sound more coherent. It makes this album the predicate ambient the most deserve of the three albums that are central here. It is also a more melodic album, although the two musicians also choose here to accompany this with the necessary variety. And OdNu adds the guitar, for example well heard in 'Unforseen Scenes', beautifully mixed with rhythmic percussion sounds. And wonderfully beautiful those sound combinations in the title piece 'Abandoned Spaces'. And especially how the tension rises regularly here on the one hand, while on the other hand we are surprised with almost classic guitar sounds. Something that we also hear nicely in 'Clear Distinction' and 'Kaizen'. Worth it is also 'The Akrasia Effect', because of the melodic content, but certainly also because of the futuristic effects that the musicians put in this piece. An atmosphere that we also find in the closing 'A Wishing Choice'.

— NIEUWE NOTEN

Drawn together and what proves to be a deeply intuitive union for the Audiobulb label, the Buenos Aires-born but NY/Hudson resident Michel Mazza (the OdNu of that partnership) and the US, northern Connecticut countryside dweller Jeff Düngfelder (Ümlaut) form a bond on their reductive process of an album, Abandoned Spaces.

The spaces in that title alongside reference prompts, inspirations motivated by the Japanese term for ‘continuous improvement’, “Kaizen”, and the procrastinated state of weakness of self-will known as the “Akrasia Effect”, are subtly and dreamily wrapped up in a gentle blanket of recollection. The lingering traces of humanity, nature and the cerebral reverberate or attentively sparkle and tinkle as wave after wave of drifty and pristine bulb-like guitar notes hover or linger, and passing drums repetitively add a semblance of rhythm and an empirical and evanescent beat.

The word ‘meticulous’ is used, and that would be right. For this is such a sophisticated collaboration and a near amorphous blending of influences, inspirations and styles: for instance, you can hear an air of Federico Balducci and Myles Cochran in the languorous guitar sculpting and threading, and an essence of jazz on the brushed and sifting, enervated hi-hat pumping drum parts. On the hallucinatory title-track itself there’s a strange touch of Byzantine Velvet Underground, Ash Ra Tempel and Floyd, and on the almost shapeless airy and trance-y ‘Unforeseen Scenes’ a passing influence of Mythos and the progressive – there’s also the first introduction of what sound like hand drums, perhaps congas being both rhythmically padded and in a less, almost non-musical way, flat-handily knocked.

Tracks are given plenty of time to breathe and resonate, to unfurl spells and to open up primal, mirage-like and psyche-concocted soundscapes from the synthesized and played. And although this fits in the ambient electronic fields of demarcation, Abandoned Spaces is so much more – later on in the second half of the eight-track album, the duo express more rhythmic stirrings and even some harsher (though we are not talking caustic, coarse or industrial) elements of mystery, inquiry and uncertainty. Here’s hoping OdNu + Ümlaut continue this collaboration, as this refined partnership proves a winning formula.

— MONOLITH COCKTAIL

Abandoned Spaces combines the unique sounds, skills and approaches of both artists to creating music, creating an album full of otherworldly textures and melodies. Using a reductive approach to composition but with great attention to detail, Mazza and Düngfelder create jazzy vignettes that flow through heavily processed electric guitars, bass and drum parts that weave into an ambient landscape of humming micro sounds and ephemeral melodies. The songs flow into one another like water, giving the listening a devotional feel. In the truest sense of the word, Abandoned Spaces is a sound poem. Combining seemingly disparate musical genres, this is an album of impeccable sonic design and impossible to classify style.

— ANXIOUS MUSICK MAGAZINE

HALF THE SPEED OF LIGHT

Right from the start on Ümlaut’s new album “Half the Speed ​​of Light” you feel like you’ve been thrown into an unknown scenery. Different sounds, percussive tapping and scratching come from different directions and a subtle beat seems to emerge everywhere, which creates a mysterious aura in its intangibility. You try to reach for these things, longing for a reliable structure, but what comes at you from the different corners of the room keeps reinventing itself. The uncertainty, however, quickly takes a backseat to curiosity, which is quickly aroused by the many interesting noise details that sometimes bring animal sounds to mind, but then often quickly dissolve again into a certain abstraction. Almost poppy rhythms arise briefly, only to disappear again, leaving the field to humming and scraping, which could theoretically lead to noise, but the subtle sounds that often come back here in one or another transformed form can hardly be enticed to do so.

Despite all its unpredictability, the music seems to reveal a thin common thread, and it points in a sometimes loungey, almost a little homely direction. So ambient? A term that should always be used with a certain degree of caution in the Ümlaut context, even though structures that can be described in this way definitely play a role in the musician's work. But whenever these come to the fore, they never rely on mere techniques of avoidance, but rather know how to productively incorporate complexity and tonal troublemakers.

“Half the Speed ​​of light”, the new solo album by the New York sound artist Jeff Düngfelder, alias Ümlaut, who now lives in Connecticut, is conceived as a tone poem in which the artist explores his memories using subtle electronics, field recordings and carefully used acoustic instruments. Memories of various trips he took several times to different parts of the world, for example to Europe and Asia. But “Half the Speed ​​of Light”, as was already apparent in the introductory descriptions, is by no means only – and perhaps not even primarily – about the interesting and diverse content of these memories. The process of remembering itself, its intensity but also its fragility, its coincidences that are difficult to tame, its very own unpredictable and therefore so attractive temporal structures and its greatest challenge, namely the equally complex forgetting, are clearly evident in the individual pieces.

In “I Sing the Ice Electric”, which for a long time seems like a kind of intro, the less harmonious-sounding details have long passages in their scratched turmoil, but also in their woody groping and in the apparent tinkling of numerous bells, like alienated set pieces Jazz ballads sound, apparently the upper hand. A certain coolness permeates the scenario, and only over time a few synths are added, which bring in a kind of balance and seem to lead the whole thing in a more harmonious direction, and yet such a conclusion does not necessarily have to be drawn here, the space for some unrest remains.

In many places it is noticeable that this is by no means music where you can tell what will happen after half a minute, and in most cases not even after several minutes. This is evident in “Algebra Applies to the Clouds” with its changing rhythmic approaches and its delicate sounds reminiscent of a singing bowl and its angular keys, as well as in “Across the Ether”, where otherworldly melodies and a sampled text that is about receiving you can design the sound image. Or the nostalgic title track, in which reminiscences of the electronic avant-garde of past decades, aquatic ripples and motor humming always leave room for new rhythms without even coming close to striking contrasting effects.

A lot can be said about each of the fourteen pieces and the interaction of their many, often small sounds, which always make it clear that there is a real esthete at work here who knows how to dose and combine. Pieces like “The Orange Garden” or “Bridge of Sighs”, probably named after the Bridge of Sighs in Venice, are particularly noteworthy – tracks that tell exciting, eventful stories that you can hear here as if blindfolded. The former, as the title perhaps suggests, has something of an idyll in it, in which cheerful birds play their part and gentle guitar packing can be heard. Its balls and tremolos seem to question the coherence of the idyll a bit, which fits in with the mysterious steps and the sounds of engines (possibly airplanes) and other roughness. In the former, an unsettling rocket sound or something similar rushes and detonates at the end through pleasant synth melodies, through gentle guitar carpets and what could possibly be strings, and yet the piece manages to maintain a light, rather undramatic melancholy and even something like detachment. These pieces in particular could create a completely different atmosphere, depending on whether you listen to them separately or in the context of the entire album.

In all this seemingly endless appearance and disappearance and occasional return, in all the agglomerations of signs and their inevitable dissolutions, not only Düngfelder's subtle psychological talent in observing memory phenomena is evident, but also his great knack for creating fleeting musical structures, in their The fluctuation of the material never results in a disappearance of the sound and even less in chaos. Because the artist knows how to maintain a direction and a sense of harmony throughout all of this. In this way he expresses a lot about the possibilities of remembering in all its fragility, and by no means just the fear of the fury of forgetting. (U.S.)

— AFRICAN PAPER

EVERYTHING IN ITS OWN PLACE

The work of Jeff Düngfelder aka Ümlaut uses tiny spikes of digital sound, but melds them with cleverly-edited field recordings to build impressionist sound-paintings on his album for Esc.rec.. On “This immense motionless pause” the tiny sounds sweep up and down in pitch like some alien natural phenomenon. Like a nature documentary soundtrack for an alternate reality, this music contains all the busyness and peace of life going about its business.

— FBi RADIO

SAME BUT DIFFERENT

It was during a postoperative convalescence phase that the American @jeffdungfelder alias Ümlaut decided to develop his new album entitled “Same But Different” (@audiobulb). A disc nourished by metaphysical themes which sees its author paint a spacious and detailed digital canvas as found on the defunct English label Em:t Records (Woob, Miasma, International Peoples Gang, Beatsystem...)

Multiple ingredients fluidly intertwine to create a sound fiction with an unpredictable and often relevant trajectory. Environmental sounds, evanescent pads, downtempo rhythms, echoes of hovering guitars or reverberant glitches are thus encapsulated in this album full of resources and promises.

— SOLÉNOÏDE RADIO

“Nostalgic moments and crunchy bits weave an infinite web of looping sparks and drifting drones.”

More akin to a soundtrack we didn’t know was essential, Same But Different from Connecticut-based experimental sound composer Jeff Düngfelder (operating under the Ümlaut alias), is a baffling ten piece collection. Surreal field recordings blend with processed glitch veils intertwined and densely layered. Nostalgic moments and crunchy bits weave an infinite web of looping sparks and drifting drones as “No Beginning” opens with its swelling beauty. Calmly floating synth structures and downtempo beatwork hover just above the landscape as evidenced by the swirling strands of “Clarity and Awareness” and the curious ambient sizzling of “Sentient Beings.” Düngfelder’s adeptness for diving deep into abstract sonic worlds is baffling; where even the most translucent of pieces (“Divinations and Prophecies” and “Bodhisattvas”) come to life unknowingly—bursting into shape from the farthest sonic contours.

“Surreal field recordings blend with processed glitch veils”

— IGLOO MAGAZINE

Ümlaut is the sonic output of Jeff Düngfelder, an experimental composer and sound artist, currently based in rural northern Connecticut, USA. Same But Different, the project’s newest album, is basically the artistic outcome of a recovery surgery, ignited after a meditative and healing process. The work spreads into ten introverted pieces. By this I mean it doesn’t shout and all elements were injected strategically. Everything blooms up rapidly with the simplicity and the intimacy generating expectation, which gets fulfilled to the fullest extent. The prologue is itself rapid, leaving space for the actual narration that kicks in almost instantly.

Düngfelder’s music has a certain vintage aesthetic, without being retro. This is essential experimental music in the fields of kraut and satellite sub-genres. The Kraut sound gets infected by tribal elements, along with eerie, yet progressive electronics, field recording chunks and low-profile ambient with regulated rhythmic beats! Eventually, everything will get ejected back to a pure kraut pathway and so on; in a circular motion. That sums it up. Maybe I’m preoccupied, but what I’m listening is a Tangerine Dream (just an example) and a Brian Eno (just another example) coitus, with holistically solid and multi-disciplined sonic roots. An abstract strolling into Ümlaut’s (and Düngfelder ‘s) very personal perspective. Though Ümlaut is also spectacularly- modern.

A possible question that is being asked is, can something be the same but different? Literally this album is a fusion between delicate contemporary electronic music and an oriental scent. Not something that hasn’t been heard before, but the clarity in the creative backstage, marks it as unique. Question answered with a high dose of sonic serotonin, most probably and most importantly! There’s nothing more to be explained, nothing more to be said but: senses are easily tuned in while listening. Check it out for yourself.

— MUSIQUE MACHINE

The contrast between "the beauty of the universe and the sad beauty of human suffering" is highlighted in the bubbling tones of Same But Different, a spiritually-tinged set from Ümlaut (Audiobulb, April 15).

— A CLOSER LISTEN

MUSIQUE DE FILM II

Ümlaut: 55 Filme und Scores von Jeff Düngfelder

The American sound artist Jeff Düngfelder, who works under the pseudonym Ümlaut, is bringing out a digital publication with a total of 55 specially produced short films and the associated soundtracks, which are also available separately, in the middle of the month. The compositions are based on a minimalism-leaning patchwork of field recordings and electronics, which is at home in the extensive borderland between ambient, musique concrete and noise approaches. Düngefelder's tendency to repeatedly integrate moments of silence and wide, open spaces into his soundscapes gives the audience the opportunity to actively introduce their own imagination. The work is published by Audiobulb.

— AFRICAN PAPER

GRAND TRINE

Based in self-reflection and analysis caused by year(s) long pandemic lockdown, Ümlaut’s Grand Trine takes an experimental approach to the wonderful astrological phenomenon of the same name. Utilizing a minimalistic approach, Ümlaut complements the heavenly alignment with its small scale counterpart. As above, so below; Grand Trine captures the fabulous coincidence of scale that is our macroscopic and microscopic universe.

Spread over 12 tracks (delightfully mimicking the 12 zodiac signs and houses), Grand Trine is a quiet, but vibrant composition, giving both the pieces and the listener space to understand purpose, be it explicit, implicit, or just a wonderful dream. Built around the slow accumulation of sounds for the listener, Ümlaut takes his time and allows the sounds to interact with each other, but more importantly, with the silent space surrounding them. Delivering a great mix between earthly, grounded sounds and atmospheric, ethereal tones, Grand Trine does a lot to build connections between unexpected elements and helps to form a deeper connection to the compositions. With minimal direction, the listener is given full rein of the soundspace and can examine aspects as they please. This sense of freedom is brought on by the grand trine, and the resultant knowledge and enlightenment is very welcome. Although compiled as 12 separate, individual tracks, there is an unspoken leitmotif that helps to connect the pieces without the entire work needing an overarching sound. This again harkens back to the interplay between sound and space, and the freedom that is given to the listener (and composer as well). With this much room to grow, develop, and play, it’s not surprising that split seconds of near dance music appear, but disappear just as quickly. “Was this real or imagined?”

Standing up to (almost demanding, really) multiple spins, Grand Trine is a contemplative look at minimalistic electronics, but done with more of a musical approach than a purely confrontational/lack of sound direction. Giving the listener ample time and material with which to construct their unique experience, Ümlaut’s latest is an excellent trip through the inner and outer cosmos. A thoughtful piece for any occasion, Grand Trine is a hit for all zodiac signs. — Paul Casey

— MUSIQUE MACHINE

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Barely a few months have passed since the release of Everything Is Always The Same, composed by Intelligent Life. With Lost In Translation, the duo formed by Jeff Düngfelder aka Ümlaut (electronic) and Mike Brown (double bass) have enlisted the services of trumpeter Joshua Tinidad, for an album that once again challenges genres. The tracks draw vast contemplative spaces, where serenity navigates gently, taking paths covered with silky energy.

The trio leaves room for everyone to express themselves, creating a fragile balance that nothing seems to be able to disturb, where each element is put to use to create a set of homogeneous textures. The layers are superimposed while developing a peaceful unity resembling a soothing poultice, playing on the notions of emptiness and fullness with irreproachable dexterity, dizzyingly immersed in a poisonous jazz atmosphere. Magic.

— SILENCE AND SOUND

EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS THE SAME

New Yorkers Mike Brown and Jeff Düngfelder associated with Intelligent Life, an unidentified musical project as singular as it is varied that arouses curiosity from the first minutes. Intelligent Life – Everything Is Always The Same. Here is an album that is difficult to classify, which changes style, tone and atmosphere over the titles. An album dominated by the sound of the double bass and which oscillates between experimental music, avant-garde jazz and ambient music. At the helm of the project are double bassist Mike Brown, a musician affiliated with many groups, and Jeff Düngfelder (aka Ümlaut), an experimental sound artist and composer based in Queens, New York.

Together, they give life to a strange and cinematographic album with headlines. Lynchien on Shelter In Place or Out Of The Dawn, minimalist and ambient jazz on Large Chunks Of Meaning or Not Even The Past Is Done, – recalling the work of bassist Josh Werner, author of the bewitching Mode for Titan in 2020 – , or even more experimental on If No One Else or Until A Distance Appears with its creaking strings. In the end, Everything is Always the Same is an album in which one will gladly get lost in its meanders, in its dark and sinuous recesses. A stimulating and quite convincing sound and musical experience.

— POSSIBLE MUSICS

INSIGHT

More than a purely ambient album, this is another unusual gem that stretches that definition to include nearly every possible sub-genre of that umbrella, and would be more accurately described as an immersive, environmental album. On 2019’s Musique De Film, the Queens, New York-based musician created “randomized and weightless sounds that dither away with each listen,” with INSIGHT being his latest venture. The press-release accurately describes INSIGHT as “…unfolding through arpeggiated sequences, melody and ambience, and breathes meditatively through eclectic sound design“—and we couldn’t agree more.

The ten microsound textures are alternately formed around a simple looping chord, or, as often, what sounds like a distant field recording of a melody or loop, found sounds, rough industrial rhythms diffused into background scapes, and more. Each piece drifts through a series of these styles until the entire album starts to blend into one very long journey through the artist’s imagined worlds. The overall mood is almost like a naive wonder at the very sounds brought forth here—an upbeat, uplifting journey into a very lovely audio landscape.

— IGLOO MAGAZINE

IN THE FIRST WAVE

“In The First Wave” shows Ümlaut celebrating the small sounds. The glistening production draws from the stripped-down glitch aesthetics of SND, Alva Noto, and other similarly minded musicians yet the sound remains uniquely his own. By incorporating elements of found sound into the mix the songs have a living breathing quality to them. Rhythms are meant to be messed with and they very much are. Allowing everything to simply sprawl further lends the album a sense of the infinite. Usage of rather unusual palettes of white noise, broken samples, and various other sources of hiss ensures that the songs constantly surprise. Outright refusing to be properly pigeonholed Ümlaut crafts an album that feels akin to a grand journey. Hard to pin down is the nebulous opener “In The First Wave”. Fragments of melody and percussion filter into the mix on the strange acid trip of “Without The Formula Of Sound”. Discernible grooves set the tone on the structured exploration of “Pump” which touches upon elements of IDM. Mere wisps of sound emerge out of the near silent “The Momentary Witness”. Love for the surroundings emerges on the gentle lullabies of “The Most Obtuse Objects”. Meditative and highly intimate “Between The Days” opts for a soothing cadence. Field recordings take over on the mystical “An Occasional View”. Crisp percussion ties together the surprisingly poppy “Concluded & begun”. A gorgeous sprawling drone comes into the fray on the closing “Sparkle”. Carefully crafted the ambient bliss of Ümlaut’s “In The First Wave” is emotionally charged and highly intriguing.

— BEACH SLOTH

Ümlaut is a U.S. electronic project from Queens, New York founded by composer Jeff Düngfelder. His work appears to be thematically & conceptual focused on the elements of sound and silence, and the random interaction between both. Finding more in the spaces between and expanding on those to help the composition have a more minimalist presentation & feel. In the press release for In The First Wave- it says this new album from Umlaut “explores the reciprocity of silence and noise” and well I think that is only half right- as it really does not contain much actual noise, its more like exploring the reciprocity of silence and tones- we have electronic tones & analogue tones-some short & some longer- but all very calm and soothing, and not really very noisy at all( to me). Sometimes the tones move faster, and the composition becomes more anxious. Sometimes the tones are slower, and things become more serene- it’s fair to say the album very much succeeds in taking the listener off of the canvas and into a different mental space. The overall feel of this album is that of simple classic ambient electronica- very minimal beats along with very simple tones generated in looping fashion to create awesome light techno compositions. For me, it seems that this album has lots of influence from Brian Eno’s minimalist works (like the stuff he does for installations) it also reminded me of some of the more relaxed ambient electronica that Arizona project Not Breathing did in the late ’90s. I had a hard time staying awake to listen to this album. So beware if listening at night. it will lull you into slumber and take you away.

— MUSIQUE MACHINE

MUSIQUE DE FILM

Likely my favorite this month, the expert blend of incidental chords and left turns, ultimately listenable and off-putting. If you indulge, like me, in works that blend the lymphatically drained side of beauty, this is for you. In one hand it has some in common with Kenneth Kirschner, in the other, warped exploratory drone that is fiercely defiant. It’s an enchanting work of minimalism, that taunts and teases with bells and other devices. These are a collection of soundtrack compositions for a series of short films (some of which you can see here) by the artist (NY’r Jeff Düngfelder) and you can expect this record out on January 9th – so consider this an early sneak peek!

— TONESHIFT

Jeff Düngfelder aka Ümlaut composes for the short films he directs, soundtracks full of overlapping patterns and poetic melancholy. But Film Music is also lived in an intrinsic way, freeing its personal scenarios with each listening, offering the listener the possibility of constructing his own films by opening the field of subjective suggestions. The artist explores the infinitely small to build a world borrowed from moving particles and loops with heady patterns, erecting areas bathed in equilibrist blurs of carnal beauty. Ümlaut continues to surprise us and lead us into naturalistic spheres, with its samples of daily life with ample origins, where melodies and rhythms form a whole halfway between sound recording and electro acoustics, experimentation and poetry. Very highly recommended.

— SILENCE AND SOUND

Minimal textures surrounded by swaths of brittle sonic noise, Ümlaut (aka Jeff Düngfelder) is new to these ears, but a welcomed retreat into a beat-less world. Fading loops, subdued clicks, and minuscule tones drift in far away places, the drones broken into layers of emotive debris. The Queens, New York-based musician creates randomized and weightless sounds that dither away with each listen on Musique De Film. With slight manipulation of harsher audibles (ie. “Without End”), one can find rugged distortion and undulating low-end shards in the background. There are also more organic streams as evidenced on “How Silent The Trees,” where abstract notes are carefully fractured and seamlessly expand the subconsciousness. “Sleeper” is an evolved transmission where the listener is treated to a harsher hypnotism—its foggy vibrations are both eerie and somehow transcendental. Delicately woven melodies flicker as “On The Feelings That Stay” maneuvers elongated glitchy strands through its microscopic elements. Field recordings left astray, a flowing collection of static blips and irregular whirs inhabits the closing piece (“Sinister”) as it launches into a surreal atmospheric organism.

— IGLOO MAGAZINE

VASCA DA GAMA

Proudly adorned with a redundant accent that is usually the domain of metal bands, Ümlaut presents an album named after the Portuguese explorer who is best known for being the first European to reach India by sea. It’s a very apt title for an album that draws together a world of sounds – from sitars to muezzin calls – into its fabric. Vasca da Gama is essentially an electronic album, with the occasional pulsating bassline and programmed percussion present on most tracks but composer Jeff Düngfelder has gone for a wide-screen approach with plenty of atmospheric samples and hooks from instruments both familiar and foreign. The first half of the album results in a mash-up of influences that is like a travelogue – not for the distant lands themselves, but if you were to go walking through a large city from one district to another. Going past a community centre, say, you can hear the sounds of ‘home’ leaking out as pensioners watch a movie, but then you are caught off guard as a car drives past blasting out some freshly-downloaded beats. Vasco da Gama isn’t wholly old-world-meets-new, as Ümlaut adapts the sounds of 90s ambient techno for the second half of the album – the sequence starting with “Strange Signal” would definitely interest fans of Global Communication, Richie Hawtin’s FUSE or The Black Dog’s output from back in the day. Samples of dialogue from American movies replace the sitars, the tempo winds down a touch and the atmosphere changes – it’s almost as if having enjoyed the first part of the album during the daylight and on the streets, we’ve now gone inside and put the TV on to a channel that shows old movies. I don’t like using the word ‘narrative’ or ‘journey’ but actually the sequence of tracks works; by “Among the Hours”, the beat almost slows to dead stop before picking up the pace – and the bass – again. The penultimate track “The Second Parallel”, with its sampled space chatter, underlines the concept behind Vasco da Gama – a distance that took months to travel for that explorer and his crew now takes mere minutes, if you happen to be orbiting Earth in a space station. In that regard, the world has become smaller, and our cultures are overlapping now more than ever despite resistance in certain quarters. Ending on the positive “Four Oh Four”, Ümlaut’s album brings together different sounds, atmospheres and influences into a satisfying and coherent whole. In these uncertain times, this is one possible future.

— A CLOSER LISTEN

Multidisciplinary artist: photographer, filmmaker, visual artist and today musician, Jeff Düngfelder aka Ümlaut, offers us a first globe-trotting album, entitled Vasco Da Gama, with astonishing freedom, built around incandescent Indian scrolls, learned electronics and stunning sensory experiments. Nourished by the muti-culturalism surrounding his place of residence in Queens, Ümlaut allows himself everything or almost, on the 13 titles forming Vasco Da Gama, combining field recordings and intoxicating percussions, poetic electronics and various samples, where ambient and electronica draw singular contours, inhabited by visceral convulsions. We are captivated by this journey around an imaginary world, full of pulsations resembling heartbeats. All in neat experiments, Vasco Da Gama invents on each track tracks forgotten or neglected by others, immerses us in clear waters coated with sprawling urbanity. Ümlaut plays with contrasts, associates ideas to dissect them, reconstructs in the image of a Doctor Frankeinstein the concentrate of a part of today's music, exploiting tracks fallen into oblivion that he resurrects to offer them the continuity that we have been waiting for for ages. A first album that says a lot about the generosity and open-mindedness of its author. Gorgeous.

— SILENCE AND SOUND

A multi-talented artist with a visual and musical background, Jeff Düngfelder, aka Ümlaut, delivers a disc between experimental and sensory trip, off-the-beaten track, for a result that appeals to the imagination as well as to The discovery of his universe rich in surprises and visions as disturbing as irremediably attractive. Motivated by the abundant multicultural inspirations of his Queens home in New York, the plastic artist, photographer, director and now musician Jeff Düngfelder now gives life to his musical project, Ümlaut; A patchwork of sounds, sometimes discrete, sometimes assertive and continually timeless, while inciting the listener to plunge deep within himself to discover the hidden treasures that he dare not reveal at any time. For the musical language here borne by the composer, at first hermetic, even elitist, contains these human fragments ranging from the explosion of the senses to introspection, without ever turning away from its primary purpose: to react epidermically, The audience he takes in his canvas. Mystic and strange, “Vasco Da Gama” invites us to discover virgin lands of all presence having trampled these natural landscapes that move before our eyes and force us to see beyond the simple appearances. Jeff Düngfelder, mixing distorted oriental tones and then exposed to better integrate the listener into a mystical and introspective universe (“Agaani”, “Manifestus”), blurs the tracks by convening electronic arrangements bringing an unprecedented and attractive movement on his whole artwork. Without ever granting himself too restrictive limits to his art, while having as main objective to accompany by the images that he had previously immortalized, he defeats by inviting a relaxing minimalist ambient (“Reveal”) as much as ” An electro that is past and still alive, whose dissonances are so many awakened dreams for the one who rushes, unable to restrain himself, in the dark channels of the album (Formed + Informed). The cohesion of the work offered here is reflected in this seemingly inexhaustible capacity to combine malaise (“Santa Maria” and its mad race towards the unknown) and bold and forbidden pleasures (the restful plenitude of “The Sky Is Empty”). Difficult to approach, yet loaded with meaning and meanings that everyone can discern. Indisputable from the photographs and footage of its progenitor, “Vasco Da Gama” is the ideal complement to the evocative power of cinematographic images and movements of a complete artist who, by always surpassing the boundaries of inspiration, uses all the tools put At his disposal to reveal a glance sometimes sincere, sometimes dreamlike and unrefined about the world around him. All contaminating us, the virus spreading in our veins and modifying our perception of the real, in a sensorial apotheosis as brutal as delicious. Rendez-vous in unknown land, but with the best possible company.

— INDIEMUSIC.FR