The Country of Here Below

Ross Bolleter's The Country of Here Below is almost a sub-musical experience. At least, that's how his work with ruined pianos seems to me. Bolleter is one of Australian music's most genial and sincere experimenters, and the beauty of the sounds coaxed from his derelict instruments is somehow profoundly sad. I even find it nostalgic, since my own first attempts at something resembling composition were on a frankly ruined piano (in my grandmother's front parlour).

Bolleter also occasionally works with texts - more colloquial, down-to-earth texts than those employed by Hazel Smith or the Machine for Making Sense's Amanda Stewart - that underscore the humour in the composer's creative make up, and give the initiated a toe-hold in Bolleter's sound world. The first track of the disc, - a sort of existential minute waltz - will get you in, but you should know that the remainder of the disc is far darker, and requires a more dedicated and participatory type of listening. I hope you will try to hear this man's work, because I think it's some of the most interesting and personal of its kind.