In early September in a basement room in Oxford Street’s underbelly, sandwiched between conversations about fogous and creeps, Alexander Tucker sat and strummed an acoustic guitar. For those more familiar with his Nonexistent, Brood X Cycles, or Microcorps output, the notion of him fingering a fretboard might appear quite novel. But this is the Alexander Tucker who wailed on banjos and violins during his early 21st century work and moved in similar circles to Jackie-O Motherfucker. That evening, Tucker united these supposedly opposing approaches by playing his guitar through an array of modular synthesisers and effects pedals, transforming struck strings into heaven-shattering drones that surged up against a ceiling too low to contain them. His mutations didn’t stop there, twisting the notes into glitches, twitches, and rhythms that seemed to dangle in the air like calcified copper piping.
Clear Vortex Chamber, Tucker’s latest as Microcorps, takes this coalescing further, swirling samples of his own bass and cello performances into the beat-laden, sonic miasma. The straddling and blending of juxtaposed elements and ideas exemplifies Tucker’s interest in merging the digital with the tangible, the futuristic with the ancient, ritual with freedom, collaboration with individual expression, and art with music.
It’s an album forged from collaboration, with Elvin Brandhi, Phew, Justin K Broadrick, Karl D’Silva, and Karl O’Connor all pitching in. The latter lending not just his voice but also his council to Tucker who, having worked on a year’s worth of material, tossed it all aside and regrouped. ‘ZONA’, the single that O’Connor guests on, is a ricochet of one-two bass thumps, bottomed-out growls, and silvery snaps over which he and Tucker trade vocal barbs so delay-heavy, they’re borderline unintelligible.
Broadrick provides the titular static-encased frequencies on ‘FEDBCK’, slashing, veering, and fluctuating like a heart rate monitor in a hospice. The Phew-featuring ‘SANSU’, on the other hand, recalls Fuck Buttons’ ‘Olympians’. Uplifting sustain soars against mutant techno beats. The galvanising chords shift into digital bird song, as if Tucker has fed Merlin recordings into modular racking.
Appearing across the bulk of Clear Vortex Chamber, JJOWDY is nigh-on-impossible to track down, apparently existing entirely off grid, whilst their calming yet enigmatic new age vocals unfold in a manner eerily reminiscent of Enya’s wordless exhalations. Unlike Tucker’s other accomplices, their efforts are credited to the project as a whole, not on a track-by-track basis.
In stark contrast, the finale, ‘MALLETS’, is pure havoc. Elvin Brandhi’s discombobulating polyphony of ranting parts attack from all angles, overlapping, arguing, pleading, and shrieking over one another as Tucker’s rhythms shunt ever forward. Brandhi’s yelps form an arresting counterpoint to the synth shards and drum volleys. Her irate explosions hammering home discontent, leaving listeners not only reeling from the overwhelming barrage but craving a little quiet to process this brain battering climax.
Despite all these compelling contributions, this remains entirely Alexander Tucker’s work. It’s his vision, his sound world. So much so that he’s merged another of his creative avenues by providing an accompanying comic book of intriguing imagery for those who pick up the digital edition. Fitting somewhere between Watchmen, La Planète sauvage, and The Incal, the panels of Microcorpse depict humanoids with brutalist buildings in their minds, laser bores in their eyes, and grinning suns in their skies. In Tucker’s trusty hands, archaic technologies and tangible futurism are assimilated artistically and with purpose.
