Ether by Iván Muela

Since turning professional in 2015 (after receiving a Bachelor in Music Technology from the University of West London) Iván Muela has engaged in a variety of production practices primarily involving piano, guitar and computer processing. In my first taste of his music I described 2019's extended player Five Questions as:

Five beautiful piano ditties that reside in the peaceful space just before sleep, each with a kind knack for caressing tired minds.

His process on this release is revealing: playing piano in the dark, as sleep captured his conscious mind, a circumstance of heightened senses, Muela was able to explore boundaries beyond the music. It's a spirit of experimentation that prevails in much of his work. For example, his follow-up later that year, How Much Left Gone, was inspired by Shoegaze. Using "layered walls of sound" to reduce the harmonic content to a minimum, he manufactured a deep, grainy narrative built on loops. The same spirit pulsates through his 2021 performance Live at Veče Dron Muzike. From the album's Bandcamp page:

Performed using a 1970's organ, a screwdriver, a synthesiser, a micro cassette recorder, a noise machine and guitar pedals.

Experimental yes but never without good reason. Working from a foundation that blends traditional instrumentation with new and inventive ways of making noise (invariably with some sort of computer processing involved) the risk of sounding generic (or weird, especially in a scene swamped with artists working in this way) is high. But Muela wields determined judgement. On his 2022 album Monologues I noted his affinity with technology:

Not just a pandemic album, this five track "sonic journal" may be a fig leaf to a temporary world, a moment of respite, but using tape loops, guitar pedals and generative techniques, it's a revealing conversation between artist and technology.

Working within creative limitations, self-imposed or not, can lead to unexpected results (or frustration?) but it's this element of the unknown that Muela readily consumes. Four years in the making, new album Ether is the result of these creative limitations.

With sixteen tracks that sound a lot less experimental than his previous work Ether feels like a real step up, in terms of ambition and transmission. It's impossible to listen without thinking of revered musicians like Nils Frahm or Henrik Lindstrand (yes, it's that bloody good). Muela has produced his most melodious compositions to date. But (thankfully) strains of experimentation remain, like the opening drones of Premise that morph into tumultuous, heavy piano before switching to a crackly, feather-light version on Grey on amber. Or the high energy, frolicking sax on Dancing, unowned that takes a contemplative downturn on the beautiful Winter sun. The result is an album that flows. From drone to sweet melody. From strings to sax. From accessible to experimental. And it flows elegantly.

A significant change to the Muela sound is the addition of strings and sax (provided by Helena Massip on violin and viola, Kalina Dimitrova on cello and saxist Nat Philipps). The Muela spirit soars in his treatment of these 'new' sounds, with harmonious song on Help me fear the stars, demanding moments (well, as demanding as it gets) on Within its self and experimental ambience with When everything is warm blue. On Escaping, unbound the sax is given plenty of space to stand alone, even though the mournful notes are dotted throughout the album.

Bolstering the music is concept. Presented as a poem in four stanzas, with each divided into four chapters, Ether is a reflection of the human condition, from birth to rebirth, exploring naivety, perception, contemplation, doubt and hope.

Ether is the sound of Muela flourishing as an artist.