There's a scene in The Graduate where Benjamin Braddock is relaxing in the pool, directly after the montage that follows his first sexual encounter with Mrs. Robinson. His father asks him what he's doing, and Benjamin says, "Well, I would say that I'm just drifting here in the pool." His father wants to know why, and Ben answers, "Well, it's very comfortable just to drift here." Adam Wiltzie of Stars of the Lid and Bobby Donne of Labradford are two men who understand such comforts. And together, as Aix Em Klemm, they've created a very pleasant place to drift.
It's fun to hear a collaborative record like this, where every note can easily be traced to its creator. I imagine Wiltzie to be responsible for the gorgeous guitar drones that pulsate through "Prue Lewarne" and "The Girl with the Flesh Colored Crayon." Both tracks feature the delicate, low-level hum that his full-time band perfected on The Ballasted Orchestra. Wiltzie also vocalizes on both these tracks (calling it singing isn't quite right) in hushed, reverberating tones. His vocals are just another shading, really, the melody flowing with the current instead of paddling anywhere on its own. The voice is effective, adding a welcome layer of gloomy ambience.
Labradford's brand of quiet music has always been too ordered and precise for my taste, somehow lacking a vital emotional component. But on Aix Em Klemm, Bobby Donne's contributions seem the perfect counterpoint to Wiltzie's organic guitar sculpture. On "3x2 (exit)," I'm guessing that Donne contributes the high-pitched buzz that burrows between the sheets of feedback, as I remember something similar from E Luxo So. And the otherwise respectful "Sophteonal," which consists mostly of slowly repeated electric guitar picking and delicate piano, gains much from a disorienting layer of computer manipulation. I'm reminded of Markus Popp's contributions to Gastr del Sol's Camoufleur, the way he ran the acoustic information through his notebook computer and returned a digital ghost to the mix. These high-tech embellishments add textures that the lo-fi Stars of the Lid would be unlikely to attempt, and are a large part of what makes this collaboration unusual.
The final track, "Twentyone," is a theft of Angelo Badalamenti's "Twin Peaks" theme, with its dreamy piano chords and too-pure bassline, but it's so pretty we can forgive the transgression. This is a lovely piece of ambient drone rock, and fans of either band will not be disappointed.
