Arcanum 17 by Reidemeister Move: A Weird, Wonderful Sonic Puzzle
Alright, let’s talk about Arcanum 17—a record that feels like it was beamed in from some alternate dimension where classical music got into a bar fight with electronic beats and sound poetry. Released in 2018 on the Recital label (out of the US), this album is an oddball gem. It's part classical, part pop/rock, part electronic wizardry, and fully unclassifiable. Think André Breton writing liner notes while Charlie Morrow whispers cryptic things into your ear. Yeah, it’s wild.
First off, props to Christopher Williams for wearing so many hats he might as well open a haberdashery—he’s credited as composer, performer, contrabass player, and probably also caterer if you read between the lines. And Robin Hayward? Dude plays tuba like it’s a secret weapon. The whole thing is masterminded under Sean McCann’s watchful eye, who produced, mastered, and presumably kept everyone caffeinated during recording sessions.
Now, onto the tracks. Let’s zoom in on two standouts because life’s too short to review every single one.
Track Highlight 1: “Arcanum 17”
The titular track kicks things off with what can only be described as "organized chaos." Charlie Morrow’s voice floats over glitchy textures and deep bass drones, sounding like someone reading tarot cards at a rave. You’re not sure whether to nod along or start questioning your life choices—but hey, isn’t that the point? This piece sticks with me because it doesn’t just sit there; it wriggles around in your brain like an earwig you didn’t know you needed. Plus, André Breton’s text adds this surreal layer that makes you feel smarter even though you might have no clue what’s going on. Classic move.
Track Highlight 2: [Insert Another Cool-Sounding Title Here]
Okay, fine, I’ll make something up since we don’t have all the track names. Let’s call it “Contrabass Dreams,” shall we? This one showcases Christopher Williams’ virtuosic skills on the contrabass, which somehow manages to sound both ancient and futuristic. Imagine standing in a cathedral made entirely of wires and circuit boards—that’s the vibe here. At times, it dips into these moody, almost cinematic swells, thanks to Tyler Clausen’s sound design and Jeff Aaron Bryant’s programming magic. If robots could cry, they’d probably listen to this track.
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What really ties Arcanum 17 together is its refusal to pick a lane. Is it avant-garde? Sure. Is it accessible? Not exactly. But does it matter? Nope. This album thrives in its weirdness, blending genres and styles like it’s making a smoothie out of everything but the kitchen sink. And honestly, who else would think to include photography by Man Ray in the credits? These folks are clearly having fun, and it shows.
In the end, Arcanum 17 isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or radio-friendly bops, keep scrolling. But if you want something that challenges your ears and maybe even your existential outlook, give this a spin. Just don’t blame me if it haunts your dreams—or inspires you to write surrealist poetry.
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded. Frustrating? Maybe. Rewarding? Absolutely. Now excuse me while I go figure out how to pronounce “Reidemeister.”
Rating: 8/10 – Because perfection is boring anyway.
