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records
> wave field
reviews "This record is what every guitar/drone/crunch/snap,crack and pop afficionado has ever wanted. It's epic, it's intimate, it's a personally served 10 course meal at a table for two at the edge of the Grand Canyon." Dedicated to Alvin Lucier, with instructions to be played "very soft or very loud," this features Toral's trademark sound (lush, interstellar ambiance - not immediately identifiable as guitar-derived) at its finest. Purely radiant and suitable for the ultimate imersion, this is an artifact of sonic genius. Release
notes at Forced Exposure
Resounding frequencies overlap and gyrate, wiggling their way inside your body. The notes, tones, and clusters of guitar-induced and effects-generated notes reverberate amongst each other. It almost sounds underwater: if whales used guitars and electronics to sing to one another, it might sound like this. Wave Field is an astonishing, left-field work, a drone fan's dream. It's everything you wanted from Fripp & Eno's No Pussyfooting and Spacemen 3's Dreamweapon & very nearly got: full, dynamic layers of blissful, amp-moaning pleasure-noise that ebbs and flows like the sea. Mike McGonigal,
Ney York Press, March 1998
Despite widespread indifference in his native land, Lisbon-based Rafael Toral has released a series of CDs that push the boundaries of musical genres as well as the limits of his instrument, establishing him as one of the most gifted and innovative guitarists of the decade. Played at low volume, Wave Field (Moneyland) is a beautiful record whose liquid flow is reminiscent of Brian Eno's experiments with ambient music. Turn it up and it becomes a churning, mesmerizing, layered soundcape of molten feedback and chiming overtones. Bill Meyer,
Chicago Reader, Oct 1996
Too dirty to call ambient, too gentle to call industrial, Toral's unique sound entails a static investigation of space and volume. Toral's approach has the guttural power of rock, but it also carries the wavelike contemplation of a rich minimalist like Morton Feldman. John Corbett, Chicago Reader, Nov. 1995
Orkhêstra, Nov. 1998
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