When I began wading into the waters of ambient music, one of the first artists I encountered was Fennesz. I listened to his 2004 album Venice – or I should say, I listened to the beginning of it – before quickly deciding that his work was way too chaotic and abrasive for my taste. Although most ambient music these days is made with electronic instruments, few ambient artists lean into the digital-ness of their music quite as much as Fennesz does: he works with an electric guitar and a laptop to create highly processed samples which are stretched and looped into glitchy drones. When I first encountered his work, I was overwhelmed, unable to process how many unrecognizable sounds were colliding in the mix of every track. I couldn’t see how anyone could find it enjoyable, let alone soothing. Over the years, however, I’ve continually circled back to Fennesz (his 2019 album Agora was one of my favorites of last year), and I’m absolutely thrilled to see him perform at this year’s Big Ears, especially since one of his performances at the first-ever Big Ears in 2009 ended up being released as a live album called Knoxville – which I’d like to use as a case study for newcomers in how to listen to Fennesz.
Fennesz’s appearance at Big Ears ‘09 was notable for several reasons. He performed twice at the festival: once solo and once as part of a trio. His solo set, performed at the Bijou Theater, opened the entire festival (the first Big Ears performance ever!), but it was the collaborative performance that ended up being released as Knoxville. Details about the first Big Ears are strangely scant on the internet, but it seems as though Fennesz was originally meant to perform with a different trio (alongside Mark Linklous and Scott Minor of Sparklehorse). For some reason, that collaboration was cancelled and Fennesz instead performed with two improv-friendly musicians: David Daniell (guitar) and Tony Buck of The Necks (percussion). The finished product was released the following year with a blooming magnolia tree on its cover and four distinct tracks, all of which flow organically into one another as a single 32-minute performance.
What follows here is a break down of each song from Knoxville, piece-by-piece, in an attempt to make sense of what’s actually happening. To supplement the description, I recommend listening along with the album, which can be streamed on Spotify and YouTube and available to purchase from Thrill Jockey records.
The title of the opening track, “Unuberwindbare Wande,” is German for “Insurmountable Walls” – an apt description of what the mix will eventually sound like. But it opens with small noises: a circular squeaking sound, like a pulley being cranked, serves as the backdrop for timid guitar chords being plucked and then swelled. There is melodic, arhythmic tapping on the strings of another guitar as tremolo and vibrato effects are introduced to background chords. The layers of sound gradually become more hypnotic, and one begins to notice an increasing amount of percussive clattering in the background. A distorted guitar chord – the most recognizable sound of the track – is struck just before the 4-minute mark. Soon afterwards, more distorted guitar chords are sustained and looped along with their feedback, eventually creating a soaring quasi-guitar solo over a cacophonous wall of sound. This all culminates into a wash of cymbals and squeals (with the root note of the piece always perceptible and resonant just under the surface) before ultimately settling down into a restful state. The arc of this track – which introduces quiet noises, stacks increasingly loud ones, and culminates in staggering chords before receding – isn’t that different from the structure of a rock or classical piece, and it serves as the template for all the other tracks on Knoxville.
The most soothing loops from the first piece are carried into the next one, “Heat from Light”, and a layer of soft white noise smooths everything out. A radar-like guitar line glides over the track’s surface for a while before exploratory percussive sounds begin popping up, quiet in the mix. Distorted feedback reminiscent of the first track returns intermittently, testing the waters as the track threatens to grow discordant again, but the track continues as a sort of mist for a while before howling feedback and fluttering cymbals finally come to dominate the mix. This new, slowly swirling wall of sound feels both soft and shrill until the lower frequencies rise up and all the notes of the track begin to slowly coalesce around one central harmony. From within this strangely satisfying whirlwind, the cymbals become more restless and begin sizzling away as various sounds are tossed aside and the mix becomes less busy. In the track’s final stretch, a growling drone of distortion continues in the background, drums rush in and out of the mix, and a somewhat traditional guitar solo takes central focus. All at once, many layers of audio vanish, leaving only a sustained drumroll and the last warbling note of that guitar solo, which also fades out before the track closes.
The drumroll from the previous track becomes the backbone for what is by far the most beautiful track of the suite, “Antonia“,which is immediately characterized by a slow cascade of clean, shimmering swells. The group leaves a vast amount of space in the center of the mix, sustaining a serene atmosphere longer than they ever have throughout this busy performance of constantly fluctuating sonic dynamics. The first several minutes of this reverent piece is only ever punctuated by distant cymbal taps and occasional industrial creaks (calling to mind the squeaking sounds that opened the album). Once the track enters its second half, a second guitar begins feeling its way around the space as the drums become more urgent and the background swells begin merging into a larger drone. In the track’s final moments, this second guitar begins needling away at a mid-ranged note, pushing the mood into new territory and transitioning into Knoxville’s final track. Before moving on to that, it’s worth noting that every Fennesz album, no matter how glitchy, features at least one indescribably gorgeous track like “Antonia” – on Endless Summer, it’s “Sheshidio“, on Black Sea, it’s “Grey Scale“and on his most recent album Agora, it’s “We Trigger the Sun“.
Fennesz and company leave their audience with “Diamond Mind” certainly the most challenging of these four tracks. Atop a foundation of clattering cymbals and noodly guitar, a new sound is introduced: an organ-like synth roar, which glitches in and out of the mix at seemingly random intervals. A distant guitar lead later enters, making the track even more densely packed with noise. For the first time, there seems to be no centrally agreed-upon key or root chord here – all three musicians seem to be harmonizing their energy moreso than their notes. Halfway through, the drums begin sprinting in one direction and the rest of the instruments follow suit, bringing the entire performance to a post-rock-inspired climactic moment ultimately finds a bizarre, high-pitched harmony. Tracks inevitably begin dropping out one-by-one as a slow, slightly arpeggiating drone softens the mix and the track lands with a gentle shake.
To finally answer the question of “How to Listen to Fennesz,” my advice is to find the signal in the noise. Fennesz is considered an ambient musician for a reason, which is that underlying all of his busy compositions there is both an underlying drone and an all-enveloping wall of sound that’s easy to get lost in. Although I’ve just gone through the process of tracing every minute musical change in these four Knoxville compositions, it is perhaps more enjoyable to let the whole experience wash over you.
There is no way of knowing just what kind of performance any given musician will bring to Big Ears – I once saw Yo La Tengo do an entirely improvised drone set – and in all likelihood, Fennesz’s 2020 performance will likely be nothing like Knoxville. If his most recent album is any indication, the set may be much more intimate and low key, considering that record was recorded entirely in a small bedroom with minimal equipment. Knoxville is worth listening to regardless as a historical artifact from the first Big Ears festival, and it stands as one of the artist’s most ambitious and confrontational listening experiences. Listeners who have thoroughly digested this one are ready for anything.
