It would be deceptive to describe Mats Gustafsson’s Piano Mating simply as a piece of music, when the listening experience more resembles the construction of a tapestry made of electric threads in a constant flux of motion and color; If you squint your mind’s eye, you can make out that the image Gustafsson has presented is some kind of extraterrestrial baptism, where a ritualistic drone is mingled with a tense wonder of the unfamiliar.
At the prompting of Blue Tapes and X-Ray Records to create an album with an instrument he had never recorded with, Gustafsson uncovered a Dubreq Piano Mate, one of the more obscure devices in the synthesizer family, to create this two-track, 35 minute work.
The tones fade into perspective slowly, squirming microtonally around eachother to create modulations that range from a friendly pulsation to an almost seasick grinding. As each new pitch is introduced, it punctures the previous layer and then folds itself back in to create a new dimension in the fabric of sound until fairly quickly they become a nebula of sound slowly climbing in timbre and pitch. Side A travels between whirling tensions and gratifying harmony before the layers begin to drop out abruptly and expose individual elements. Side B is a churning ocean of low harmonic richness, where through repetition the throbbing drones almost begin to disappear to reveal the vast and desolate space created by the slow build of the synthesizer sound mass.
I suppose like any extraterrestrial baptismal tapestry (don’t act like it’s your first), Piano Mating provides a pseudo-spiritual psychedelia with a distinctive coarseness that make the album a find as rare and exciting as the Dubreq Piano Mate itself.