You probably know Jan St. Werner as one-half of Mouse on Mars (with Andi Toma) and one-half of Microstoria (with Markus Popp of Oval). If you're a hardcore fan, you might even know him as one-half of Dü (with FX Randomiz), or through his production work (he paired with Toma to produce tracks on Stereolab's Dots and Loops, and also Kraftwerk drummer Wolfgang Flur's solo album as Yamo), or maybe one of his many cameos (Pluramon, just for starters). Sometimes, though, a guy wants to be alone. On top of all these projects, St. Werner records solo as Lithops.
It's been approximately five years since we've seen a full album of Lithops material. Uni Umit was issued in North America on Jim O'Rourke's Moikai label in 1999, but was a collection of tracks recorded during the previous few years (and itself was originally issued on Sonig in 1998). In 1998, Lithops also debuted with the hard-to-find Didot, which was vinyl-only aside from an expensive CD release in Japan. Outside a trickle of Lithops singles and an occasional compilation track, Lithops seemed dead in the water. Now comes the 2003 release of Scrypt.
Every Lithops release has something to recommend, but St. Werner never quite delivers on the promise of his various collaborations; as a Mouse on Mars and Microstoria freak, I always expect to like Lithops just a bit more than I actually do. Didot was raw, choppy, and rhythmically complex, but had a tendency to stray too far into noise that seemed to have little purpose. Uni Umit was better, definitely more refined and structured, even if some tracks seemed like half-hearted Mouse on Mars.
Scrypt is more sophisticated than either, and also has a very different feel. This is definitely the most abstract Lithops record, with a number of tracks that seem inspired by the dense assault Oval presented on Commers. There's very little of the bouncy playfulness for which St. Werner usually makes room. You might even call "distortion" the record's lead instrument. Fortunately, St. Werner plays the hell out of the various shades of noise.
The first track on Scrypt is called "Generator" and it basically picks up from the loudest, most obnoxious point on Idiology, leaves the drums and vocals behind, and adds some random explosions. "Self-Stencil", on the other hand, is a dissection of the subtleties of redzone harmonics, showing St. Werner's brilliant feel for distortion's luminous edge. He keeps the sheet of feedback in check just enough for the track to qualify as ambient, so that a sloppy mess of sound coalesces into shimmering, immaculate sculpture. "Thrash Application" bends and stretches the attack of a jagged metal riff, which occasionally breaks loose and pounds away on its own.
The other significant development on Scrypt is that St. Werner collaborates with other musicians, a Lithops first. Most interesting are the addition of Sam More's woodwinds. More's work on "T O" and "Insections" forms an odd complement to the computer-generated sound, as the electronics are pulled toward the acoustic and vice-versa. The reeds add a layer of drama and pathos, particularly on the neo-classical "Insections", giving focus to the boundless texture. Pete Meinwald contributes horns to two tracks, but his instrument is more difficult to place, becoming another element for St. Werner to manipulate. "Playthrough" is the latest wrinkle in St. Werner's long fascination with off-kilter, broken down funk, and it gets its pulse in part from drummer Jeffrey Bouck.
This is the first Lithops full-length to feel truly like a considered album, yet conversely it's also the most challenging listen. Perhaps in collaboration St. Werner is forced to triangulate and find more accessible solutions to sound problems. Scrypt is St. Werner uncut, experimenting on the edge of his own imagination. Something interesting bubbles up more often than not.
