It would be tough to find a more cosmically inspired pairing than Natural Information Society and Bitchin Bajas. So, it’s a happy coincidence that both happen to reside in Chicago.
Natural Information Society is a shifting collective led by bassist, composer, and improviser Joshua Abrams. A long-time presence in the Chicago jazz and experimental music community, he's spent the past five years releasing albums—including Natural Information, Represencing, and the recent double LP Magnetoception—that have concentrated on meditative, pulse-driven music. Rather than a traditional upright or electric bass, on these records Abrams favors a three-stringed North African lute called a guimbri. The instrument’s percussive but rubbery tone provides a foundation for fluid and hypnotic embellishments on percussion, guitar, autoharp, and harmonium.
Lead by Cooper Crain—of Chicago-based krautrock revivalists, Cave—Bitchin Bajas’ music draws inspiration from the minimalist and new age records of the late '60s and '70s. On last year’s Bitchin Bajas and this year’s Transporteur EP, the group crafted patient and serene zone-out music that made heavy use of vintage synthesizers and tape loops.
As a collaboration, Automaginary flatters both parties. Bajas’ music often relies on the embellishment of looped phrases, be they short keyboard figures, guitar riffs, or abstract sounds. Working with an improvising ensemble allows the band—represented here by Crain, Dan Quinlivan, and Rob Frye—the chance to operate in a more dynamic setting. Throughout the compositions musicians drop in and out, switch melodies, or shuffle the phrasing of their riffs, allowing the music to feel organic and alive in a way that’s tough to replicate with a static loop. In turn, Natural Information Society’s scope is expanded through Bajas’ tastefully curated collection of old keyboards, whose hazy tones reinforce the music’s airy and meditative sensibility.
On the nearly 20-minute drone opener, "On No Fade", bowed upright bass tones slowly give way to humming keyboards and piano flourishes. The music is melodic, but never in a concrete or hummable sense and while it gradually increases in density, the band avoids a clear climax. It’s very peaceful listening. The subsequent compositions are more in line with Abrams’ recent records. The guimbri is at the center of the music, providing a pulse to guide the other musicians. The music grooves, but never quickens—maintaining a steady and consistent energy throughout. There are no solos and while the players wander and evolve their lines, they always remain in complementary positions to one another.
Bajas and Abrams both find serenity amid perceived stasis—making music that sounds repetitive, but is constantly undergoing subtle scene shifts and mutations. More than that, both make music that sounds strangely timeless. The lack of complex harmony helps to diffuse Abrams’ relationship to much modern jazz and while Bajas' music pays homage to a certain group of composers, those musicians were looking back toward even older traditions. Automaginary works because both excel at making music that feels thoroughly modern, but also ancient.
