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Best of 2025

John Surman, Karin Krog

Electric Element (LP)

Label: Trunk

Format: LP

Genre: Library/Soundtracks

In stock

€25.00
VAT exempt
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Lost for a decade, John Surman and Karin Krog's “Electric Element” emerges from a failed theatre project as a “wonderfully weird vocal and electronic experiments”. On the album the duo abandon traditional jazz for visceral explorations featuring wind synth, processed vocals, and granular synthesis. An “enigmatic time slip” bridging Kosmische, Industrial, and futuristic electronics.

Sometimes the most remarkable music emerges from the ashes of abandoned ambitions. John Surman and Karin Krog's “Electric Element”, now receiving its long-overdue release through Trunk Records, represents one of those rare archaeological discoveries that feels both historically significant and startlingly contemporary. Created during 2013 sessions for an overly ambitious futuristic dance/theatre production that never materialized, these recordings have spent over a decade gathering dust before finding their perfect home. The genesis of “Electric Element” reads like experimental music mythology: a planned large-scale urban production for 80-100 actors and dancers, complete with lasers and multiple stages, inspired by Eugene Deslaw's 1927/1928 silent films “La Marche des Machines and les Nuits Électriques”. When funding inevitably failed to materialize for this impossibly complex vision, the recorded music remained archived until Jonny Trunk inquired whether Karin Krog had any unreleased material of interest.

What emerged from those Oslo studio sessions represents a stunning evolution of the Surman / Krog partnership that “sees the duo (along with Surman's son Ben) abandon traditional jazz entirely in favour of a set of wonderfully weird vocal and electronic experiments.” As The Quietus notes, “There's an ineffable sense of mystery to this collection of previously unreleased material” - music that recalls the prime Annette PeacockPony” period while establishing entirely new possibilities for experimental collaboration. The technical setup alone suggests the sessions' ambitious scope: over nine tracks, Surman “shirks his sax in favour of wind synth, bass and contrabass clarinet, plus various effects units. Krog, for her part, shrieks, growls, mutters, and occasionally speaks. It's an extraordinarily visceral performance” that pushes both artists far beyond their established comfort zones. The collaborative approach maintained over those crucial winter 2013 sessions created “an enigmatic time slip of a record that seems to dance between the past and the present.” Ben Surman's post-production work, utilizing Ableton Live, Max/MSP, and Reaktor, introduced granular synthesis techniques that created fascinating tensions between the organic and artificial sound sources.

We can't help to enjoy the album's remarkable temporal displacement: it “sounds both rooted in 2000s electronic music, while also being reminiscent of much older artists like Tangerine Dream, Basil Kirchin, and Throbbing Gristle.” This quality places “Electric Element ” within experimental music's most intriguing category - works that exist outside conventional historical time, drawing from multiple eras while pointing toward uncharted futures. “Electric Element” captures something essential about contemporary experimental music's relationship with technology - not the wholesale abandonment of acoustic instruments for electronic alternatives, but rather the seamless integration of analog and digital approaches in service of expanded expression. These sessions, completed over just three days of initial recording followed by additional mixing and post-processing, demonstrate the creative chemistry that can emerge when established artists push beyond their known territories.

For collectors of experimental jazz and electronic music archaeology, “Electric Element” represents a crucial discovery - proof that significant music often emerges from failed projects and abandoned ambitions. The album's delayed release only enhances its impact, offering contemporary listeners music that feels both historically grounded and prophetically forward-thinking.

Details
Cat. number: JBH109
Year: 2025
Jazz vocalist Karin Krog and saxophonist John Surman branch out into glitchy, experimental electronics on this newly unearthed cut from 2013Read more

There’s an ineffable sense of mystery to this collection of previously unreleased material from saxophonist John Surman and jazz vocalist Karin Krog. Recorded over three days in 2013, abandoned when the theatre project it was commissioned for never came to fruition, and finally unearthed this month by Trunk Records, Electric Element sees the duo (along with Surman’s son Ben) abandon traditional jazz entirely in favour of a set of wonderfully weird vocal and electronic experiments.

Over nine tracks – five substantial compositions and four brief interstitials, which mainly act as codas to the longer pieces – Surman shirks his sax in favour of wind synth, bass and contrabass clarinet, plus various effects units. Krog, for her part, shrieks, growls, mutters, and occasionally speaks. It’s an extraordinarily visceral performance and while it’s not unusual for the singer to manipulate her voice via both natural and technological means (see also her perfectly named Light in the Attic compilation, Don’t Just Sing) she’s an unusually spectral and occasionally even threatening presence here.

‘Mutual Capacitance’ opens the album with a plaintive wail echoing out across a landscape of clockwork percussion and snarling guitar. It’s broodingly atmospheric, the guitar skirting the edges of prog rock, but held in check by insistent patches of piano. The oppressive mood continues into the slight ‘R (2)’, where the ghostly after-images of percussion hits and piano notes float on an ocean of reverb.

There’s a whiff of the New Age bookshop about album highlight ‘Electrostatic Coupling’, with its glittering synths and Krog’s alternately guttural and angelic vocalisations. I’m reminded of two great electronic tracks here: the kosmiche sound of Coil’s ‘Red Birds Will Fly Out of the East and Destroy Paris in a Night’ and the cut-up vocal stutter of Boards of Canada’s ‘Telephasic Workshop’, with Krog’s chopped and looped voice providing the percussive spine for much of the track.

The lengthy, ten-minute ‘Propagation Delay’ has a similarly mystical quality, as it subtly transitions from Eraserhead factory rumbles to serene meditation music ambience, while ‘Inductive Crosstalk’ provides the album with its most unnerving moment. Opening with indistinct snippets of chatter – as if we’ve accidentally caught Krog in absent-minded conversation with herself on mic – mournful piano and synth melodies build in the background until the now foregrounded Krog embarks on a lengthy, though cryptic narration through a ring modulator (best known as the device that creates the voice of the Daleks in Doctor Who). Even without knowing the language being spoken here, there’s a precision and command of tone in Krog’s reading that feels eldritch and sinister.

For the first few days listening to Electric Element, I had absolutely no idea when or why this fascinating album was made, with the Trunk website offering few clues. It sounds both rooted in 2000s electronic music, while also being reminiscent of much older artists like Tangerine Dream, Basil Kirchin, and Throbbing Gristle. The only real giveaway that these are comparatively modern compositions comes with the final track, ‘Compression Slice’ – a glitchy, dub-tinged cut reminiscent of Autechre’s deconstructed hip-hop. Krog is barely audible here, the odd mangled plosive aside, her voice is almost entirely subsumed in the crunching beats and jittery synths. On an enigmatic time slip of a record that seems to dance between the past and the present, it’s apt and satisfying that the final track sounds so proudly futuristic.