On Theory Of Machines Frost presents a challenging and invasive sonic experience of digitally manipulated litany via minimal, guitar-oriented compositions that massage the lower-body and sometimes hurt above the waist ...A painfully beautiful experience.

The scale of Ben Frost’s Theory of Machines is enormous, exploiting every extreme of pitch, volume and timbre, recalling the unbounded enormity of the natural world.  The changes in the music sometimes seem as gradual as changes in the weather—and sometimes as violent.

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REVIEWS / PRESS

from VICE!

BEN FROST     

Theory of Machines

Bedroom Community

The music marries ambient-Aphex swathes of warmth and static with the compositional complexity of Arvo Pärt and the sonic nothingness of the New Blockaders or their heirs apparent Wolf Eyes and somehow manages to make all of these disparate elements work perfectly, complementing rather than distracting from each other. Yes, it is that good. And you know what else? I have listened to it almost every day since I got it and any album with a track entitled “I Love You Michael Gira” should probably be owned by everyone, everywhere immediately. This is music even the grumpy old Swans dude himself might enjoy.

JIMMY FRIGGLES

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from THE WIRE issue 277, March 2007

Ben Frost THEORY OF MACHINES (Bedroom Community)

by Dan Warburton

"I'm interested in ugly sounds, cold sounds," writes Ben Frost, born in Melbourne, Australia, in 1980 but resident since 2005 in Reykjavik, Iceland. But, as Steve Albini will tell you, the rawest, nastiest, grittiest sounds, the ones that make you wonder whether those speakers need replacing, are the ones that need the most studio time. Frost's manipulation of software was impressive enough on his 2003 outing Steelwound (Room40), but here, under the watchful eye of Room40's Lawrence English and producer Valgeir Sigurðsson (Björk, Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Nico Muhly..), it's simply awesome. On "We Love You Michael Gira" – the title nails the composer's colours to the mast and reminds us that minimalism was never just the polished sheen of Reich and Glass, but also the sweat and grime of Gira's Swans – a distressing and distressingly regular beep (Frost states that the piece was inspired by the sound of a reversing truck) evolves gradually into a gentle piano pulse, and a truly brutal metallic guitar gives way to an all too human string quartet, itself replaced by a dirty sample from Swans' "Red Sheet". Stripping away the technology reveals a deeper, darker minimalism, a disarmingly simple descending minor scale fragment worthy of Henryk Górecki and Arvo Pärt. But this is Arvo Pärt as arranged by Trent Reznor: the emotional power of Frost's music comes precisely from the stark contrast between extremely basic musical material and the deadly virtual instruments he invents to perform it. On "Stomp", a gloomy, thudding bass is gradually obliterated by lacerating guitar to create something as menacing and claustrophobic as a dark corridor in Lost Highway – David Lynch is, not surprisingly, another Frost hero. In the closing magnificent "Forgetting You is Like Breathing Water" (title courtesy Stina Nordenstam), the inhuman precision of icy synths morphs almost imperceptibly into the tenderness and fragility of real instruments, whose eternally rising minor scales overlap to form subtly changing harmonies as immaculate and unspoiled as the barren beauty of Frost's adopted country.

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from BOOMKAT

BEN FROST - Theory Of Machines

BEDROOM COMMUNITY

BEN FROST - Theory Of Machines, BEDROOM COMMUNITY

Since the downfall of the whole bedroom electronica scene we have witnessed over the last couple of years, experimental music has somewhat exploded, with cdrs, tapes, mp3s and limited vinyl leaking out of small crevices the world over. Noise, avant-jazz, bubbling ambience, drone, metal – these disparate genres have been embraced by the world’s eager musical fraternity and thanks to the wonders of modern technology (read : the internet) sounds that were previously restricted to the learned few have suddenly become available to the many. It is inevitable then that these sprawling styles will begin to blend and glorious hybrids will eventually emerge – recently we saw Svarte Greiner lay claim to ‘acoustic doom’ (a peculiar blend of modern classical and black metal) and Panda Bear is set to stun us with ‘Person Pitch’; his take on modern pop music as filtered through so many genres it’s hard to even give it a name. Australian born Iceland-resident Ben Frost isn’t new to music, his debut full-length ‘Steel Wound’ (on the Room40 label) was a revelation to the few that heard it, and led to him securing a remix for none other than Iceland’s premier genre-bender herself Bjork, however ‘Theory of Machines’ is the album which is to cement his name as one of the most interesting and in that, groundbreaking producers in the world today. Blending the current trend for all things noisy with something altogether more ‘composed’ we end up with a curious concoction of Cliff Martinez and Wolf Eyes, stopping at planet Badalamenti for a strong cup of Joe (“black like midnight on a moonless night”). It should come as no surprise then that Frost’s primary influence (and sound source…) for the album was Michael Gira’s seminal noise-rock band Swans, an influence which bubbles majestically surface on the album’s central piece, cunningly titled ‘We Love You Michael Gira’. The track starts simply enough; shifting, moody synthesized tones sitting eerily next to shivering waves of guitar noise before both give way to the sort of glacial blip-work that would make Mika Vainio jealous, and then it hits you; chunks of percussive noise that enter the sound-field like a serial killer bursting into the family home, gritty and abrasive, raw and untamed. The Swans factor isn’t lost in this track, it’s something that needs to be played so loud that it almost hurts the eardrums for full, visceral effect and proves as if proof be needed that Ben Frost is a rare producer who really knows how to use the loud as it should be used. This isn’t music that is compressed into bland nothingness, this has dynamic, when the loud parts hit you, they really hit you – and strangely enough this gives the quieter sections even more resonance. When the album’s gorgeous opening track ‘Theory of Machines’ builds finally into a short, fuzz-ridden climax you truly feel it in full spine-tingling glory, it becomes one of those tracks you just have to play again and again to re-capture the feeling. The album closes its pneumatic doors with the eleven-minute epic ‘Forgetting you is Like Breathing Water’, which is as majestic and soulful a piece of electronic music as you could possibly hear. In synthesized tones Frost creates a blissful symphony of machines, a piece of music closer to Michael Nyman or Max Richter than to Autechre of Aphex Twin showing that finally we really have moved on. Without a doubt one of the most essential albums you will hear this year – ‘Theory of Machines’ is the future of electronic music.

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from MAPSADAISICAL

Ben Frost, Theory Of Machines (Bedroom Community)

Saturday February 17th 2007, 12:02 am

Filed under: mp3, album reviews

Some things that happened to me while I was listening to this album on my iPod today:

1) My tube train stopped between stations.  It was a very full Victoria Line train, head in armpit stuff, nil possibility of me being able to get my newspaper anywhere within my field of vision, never mind get a pen out to do the crossword.  After a considerable wait, an alarm began to sound.  A slow, insistent alarm, the type that says “now don’t get too worried, but you should probably have a look at this.”  I wondered what the noise could be.  I glanced around.  No-one else seemed more bothered than you would expect someone to be when stuck in a rather hot carriage for an interminable period.  I turned the volume down on the iPod.  The noise ceased immediately.  That was Track 3, “We Love You Michael Gira”.

2) I eventually left the underground, mildly irritated, and headed for the bus.  Very stop-go, they’ve been replacing some Victorian water mains round here for months now, digging chasms in the ground and installing temporary traffic lights while they do so.  The gossamer drones of last track “Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water” began to build in intensity and rise both in pitch and volume.  It became quite intense.  I closed my eyes, and let the sound flood the darkness.  The sound kept building, getting really quite loud, and finally began to grate mechanically.  I realised the track had finished, and I was listening to the sound of the driver pointlessly revving his engine.

I’m pretty sure John Cage would approve.

Ranging from the bottom of an overpowering Tim Hecker guitar crackle canyon (“cities collapsing”, as my friend Andrew always says whenever he hears something like this) to the high atmosphere jetstreams of Eliane Radigue or a 12K type like Richard Chartier, Theory Of Machines has more depth than anything I’ve heard all year.

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from STYLUS MAGAZINE

The Bedroom Community label seems to be a collective of artists all affiliated with Iceland’s Greenhouse Studios. The first release, Nico Muhly’s Speak Volumes, was a set of beautiful chamber pieces “for small ensembles with electronics.” Like most classical music, I found it hard to parse on the first few listens, but after enough repetition, it began to grow in its accessibility and depth. It doesn’t take a second listen to Ben Frost’s new record, Theory of Machines, to parse its contents. There’s nothing to engage with. It simply is.

To explain: Theory of Machines is something like what would happen if an electro-acoustic improviser decided to cover Mogwai. Frost builds a sound world in each track, gradually moves towards a climax of some kind, and then backs off. It’s a simple trick, but as legions of post-rock imitators will tell you, it’s an effective one. Sure, it’s not that simple each time out. “Stomp” builds and then merely drops out its distorted melodic element a few seconds before its end, “Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water” never really builds to any sort of definable climax at all, but the best tracks (“We Love You Michael Gira” and the title cut) both follow the aforementioned formula.

Frost real talent is for sound design. As an engineer at the studios, he’s obviously learned a lot from label head and sometime-Björk producer Valgeir Sigurðsson. As such, his command of space is particularly strong—it sounds as if you’re simultaneously right inside the piano and sitting across the room from it at the end of “We Love You.” Similarly, the drums on “Theory of Machines” sound amazingly present, despite having to fit through a huge wash of distorted guitar drone. People throw around the word “soundworlds” a great deal, but in Frost’s case it’s very much applicable. These are songs that envelop.

I recently asked Christopher Weingarten if there was a noise artist that he knew of that could permanently change how music listeners viewed the genre. He rightly pointed out that we’ll probably never be able to predict that person, but we can point to a number of artists paving the way for it happen. Sonic Youth has softened guitar rock audiences, Lightning Bolt has done the same for many punks, and Fennesz has shown the possibility for melody among noisenik laptoppers. With a few more releases like this, it may be time to add Ben Frost to that list.

by Todd Burns

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from Morgunblaðið

***** (Rating 5/5)

(see below for english translation)

Laugardaginn 23. desember, 2006 - Tónlist

“STÆRÐFRÆÐILEGAR TILFINNINGAR”

Theory of Machines er önnur skífan sem útgáfan Bedroom Community sendir frá sér, en hún inniheldur tónlist hins ástralska Ben Frost. Þetta er einhvers konar raftónlist sem sækir í tilraunakennda nýklassík en einnig í óhljóðalist eða "noise." Frost vinnur mikið með stemningu, hann tekur sér góðan tíma í að byggja smám saman upp risavaxna hljóðveggi sem eru háværari en öll rokktónlist en miklu líklegri til að koma manni úr jafnvægi. Hann leikur sér með andstæður, fer úr heilmiklum hávaða yfir í illgreinanlegt suð á örfáum sekúndum og leggur síðan grunninn að næsta turni stein fyrir stein. Rýmið skipar stóran þátt í tónlistinni og nákvæm hlustun í heyrnartólum birtir hlustandanum heilu hljóðborgirnar þar sem hvert herbergi er áþreifanlegt og hefur eigin hljómburð. Mörg hljóðanna hafa verið afmynduð á einn hátt eða annan, trommur og gítarar verða bjöguninni að bráð, og arkitektúr borgarinnar er ansi framandlegur fyrir vikið.

Frost byrjar á titillagi plötunnar þar sem gítar fær að gutla á sjöttu mínútu með síauknum styrk áður en nær óþekkjanlegar trommur bætast við og magnast, magnast, magnast enn meir, þar til klippt er á allt saman. "Stomp" fylgir í kjölfarið. Það byggist á naumhyggjulegum raftrommum og afskræmdum gítar sem birtist óforvandis til allra átta. Lagið er fremur rólegt en stutt ris undir blálokin er allt að því óþægilegt áheyrnar, slík er spennan sem í því býr.

Undir laginu "We Love You Michael Gira" er taktfast píp sem minnir á hjartarita og gegn því teflir Frost fram því sem virðist vera algjör óreiða, handahófskenndur hávaði. Þannig dregur hann hið vélræna í hinu lífræna fram, snýr upp á væntingar okkar: hjartslátturinn er vélrænn en hávaðinn lífrænn. Smám saman leysir listin svo mörkin upp þegar píanóleikur leysir pípið af hólmi og strengir sjá fyrir tónbilum og laglínu.

"Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water" er lokaverkið og lætur minnst yfir sér. Strengir feta sig smám saman upp tónstigann og röddunum fjölgar eftir því sem á líður. Maður gleymir sér og ellefu mínútur þjóta hjá eins og eitt magnþrungið augnablik. Það er algjör andstæða lagsins sem fer á undan, "...Coda," sem er hreinræktað hávaðarokk sem tekur innan við tvær mínútur að hafa áhrif. Lagið minnir um margt á lag sem kom út fyrr á árinu, "Mic Dictator of Love Anthem" með sveitinni Represensitive Man (kom út á Fjölskyldualbúmi Tilraunaeldhússins).

Það gefur þó ekki rétta mynd af plötunni að taka hana í sundur lag fyrir lag. Hér er raunverulega um fjörutíu mínútna heild að ræða þar sem hvert lag skipar jafnmikilvægan sess. Theory of Machines er stærðfræðilegt líkan eða borg: Verkið er þaulhugsað og útpælt, en virkar samt eins og það sé fljótandi og lífrænt. Frost leikur sér að tilfinningum okkar, eina stundina erum við hrædd, þá næstu sorgmædd, en við erum alltaf spennt (maður fær bókstaflega í magann af því að hlusta á þessa plötu og þarf jafnvel að leggjast fyrir). Hann hefur dottið niður á formúlu sem framleiðir tilfinningar. Í sem stystu máli er Theory of Machines það áhrifamesta sem undirritaður hefur heyrt í ár. Þar fyrir utan eru umbúðir einstaklega fallegar og eigulegar (en mjög skuggalegar og taugatrekkjandi), og útgáfan fær sérstakt hrós fyrir ítarlegan og vel skrifaðan texta sem fylgir plötunni. Meira af þessu, takk.

Atli Bollason

“ MATHEMATICAL EMOTIONS”

Theory Of Machines, written by Australian Ben Frost, is the second release from the Bedroom Community label.  The music is electronic in nature but references neoclassical music as well as noise-music. Frost works with atmosphere, taking all the time he needs to build enormous walls of sound that are louder than any rock 'n' roll but much more likely to throw you off balance. He plays with opposing forces, moving from very loud to obscure noise in a matter of seconds, while building the foundation for his next tower stone by stone. Space is a key element in the music, wherein whole soundscapes are revealed to the listener.  Whilst listening in headphones a whole city of sound unfolds, where every single room becomes tangible and has its own acoustic character. Many of the sounds used have been manipulated and processed; drums and guitars are distorted and the city's landscape is an exotic one as a result.

Frost starts the title track with tinkering guitar, which builds in volume and intensity for almost six minutes before almost unrecognizable drums are added into the mix; building, building and building even more, until everything goes silent. "Stomp" is the next track. It's based around a minimal electronic beat and a distorted guitar that unexpectedly appears all around the sound-space. The song has a rather slow tempo but a short peak near the end is almost uncomfortable to listen to, that's how intense it is.

A steady bleep, reminiscent of a heartrate-monitor carries through "We Love You Michael Gira" and here Frost also uses what appears to be total chaos, random noise, which allows him to explore the mechanical nature of the organic, completely reversing our expectations: the heartbeat is mechanical but the noise is organic. Eventually art itself blurs the lines when a piano replaces the bleep and strings provide melody and harmony.

"Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water" is the final work on the album and is a more subdued affair. Strings glide slowly up the scale and the number of voices increases gradually. One forgets time and place and suddenly eleven minutes have passed like one majestic moment. It's the polar opposite to the piece before it, "...Coda," which is pure noise-rock that unfolds fully in its less than 2 minutes form. It is in some ways reminiscent of a song released earlier in the year by the band Represensitive Man; "Mic Dictator of Love Anthem" (Kitchen Motors' Family Album).

However, dissecting this record piece by piece does not do it justice. This is a forty minute cohesive body of work where each piece is equally important. Theory Of Machines is a mathematical model or a cosmos: the work is thought out from start to finish, but appears organic and liquid in nature. Frost plays with our emotions, one moment we are scared, the next we are sad, but we are always excited (this record makes you react physically in a literal sense, your stomach may ache or you might need to lie down). He's come up with a formula that manufactures emotions. In a word Theory Of Machines is the most striking record that I have heard this year. In addition to that the cover art is particularly beautiful and collectible (whilst creepy and nerve-wracking), and the label gets a big applause for providing thorough and well-written liner notes. More of this, please.

Atli Bollason

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from LONDON MILK

BEN FROST - Theory Of Machines

HVALUR2 - Bedroom Community 2006

05 Tracks. 38mins40secs

There is something terribly disturbing about the cover of Ben Frost’s latest offering. Showing him hanging upside down, feet and hands wrapped in green plastic bags and tied together. Additional images of him lying on the floor looking half dead or of his head caught up in a strange metallic contraption further accentuate the feeling of unease that surrounds this release. While a definite stylistic slant, these images are more than just a simple visual translation of the content of the album.

Hailing from Melbourne, Australia, twenty-six year old Frost relocated to the somewhat cooler Reykjavik in 2005 and teamed up with Björk collaborator and Bedroom Community label head Valgeir Sigurðsson. Prior to depositing his bags of noise on the Bedroom Community doorstep, Frost has been spotted on labels such as Room40 and John Chantler’s Inventing Zero. He has also been involved with various art installations and has worked on scores for films and dance companies. More recently, he has worked under the collective moniker of School Of Emotional Engineering and released a self-titled album, published on Architecture, in 2004.

The scope of Theory Of Machines, Frost’s first offering for Bedroom Community, is rather vast, ranging from gritty guitar-fuelled cloudy drones to digital minimalism and greasy heavy rock. This album challenges and unsettles by its apparent inertia and the underlying perversion which results from the sometimes violent atmospheric shifts throughout. Nothing is quite what it seems here. Compositions that appear calm and introvert can erupt into raucous clouds or dense seismic formations unexpectedly only to be pulverized into minute particles. Elsewhere, Frost applies layer after layer of thick sonic foundation to form cyclical pieces.

The album opens with the title track, which grows from an ethereal guitar line into a much grittier and sturdier edifice. We Love You Michael Gira works in similar ways, but the result is more subtle and delicate, despite the mind-drilling ring of an alarm clock pacing amongst abrasive glitches for a while. Stomp is a much more complex composition. Raising razor-sharp electric fences around pulsating electronic debris, Frost builds tension and gets under the skin of its audience, while Coda is a much rawer piece, with electric sparks flying across all the way through. The last track, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water is, in contrast, totally introvert and almost pastoral as Frost progressively applies an orchestral feel into his processed soundscapes.

Ben Frost’s music is not exactly pretty in the esthetic meaning of the word, but the treatment he applies give his compositions an interesting sheen. While the reaches of this album are, as its title indicates, somewhat mechanical and industrial, there is an organic thread which runs through each track, binding Theory Of Machines together beautifully.

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from CYCLIC DEFROST MAGAZINE

Ben Frost - Theory Of Machines (Bedroom Community)

Published by Seb January 7th, 2007 in Reviews Issue #16.

The first release from Ben Frost was the Music For Sad Children EP which was handmade and self-distributed at This Is Not Art in 2001. Since then Ben’s music has developed and grown with releases on Room40 including 2003’s superb Steel Wound, and an album of apopcalyptic post rock worthy of the Constellation label under the guise of School Of Emotional Engineering. Now based in Iceland and working closely with producer/engineer Valgeir Sigurðsson, his latest album Theory Of Machines is the result of his new working environment and studio access.

With only 4 long tracks and a short interlude, Theory Of Machines could have been a quickly forgotten listen, but each track is a sublime condensation of experience - dynamic, expansive and epic. The title track opener unravels a slow drone into a flurry of tearing distortion and crashing drums like the sound of icebergs breaking slowly apart. ‘Stomp’ begins with an electronic pulse before processed guitars flay and disintegrate into ambience. There is a strong narrative progression with all the tracks here as well - ‘We Love Michael Gira’ begins as a drone unfolding into a subtle orchestral swell, and the final track unfurls delicately over nearly twelve minutes from electronic pulses, and bell-like tones into lush strings. Parts recall Oren Ambarchi’s fabulous Grapes From The Estate, others the visceral impact of

Mogwai, and, as is obvious from the hat tip to Michael Gira, the dense, relentlessness of The Swans and Gira’s other projects also sits as reference point.

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from VITAL WEEKLY

BEN FROST - THEORY OF MACHINES (CD by Bedroom Community)

Like the previous release on Bedroom Community this one comes with extensive liner notes on the artist and the recording, almost in a modern classical way. Daniel Johnson tells us about Frost's fascination for the Swans, about films and about the pieces. I didn't want to spoil my fresh opinion about Frost, as this is the first time I hear his music (other than a remix on a Room40 compilation). Frost lives in Iceland, has had work released on Room40 and a release as School Of Emotional Engineering. His main instrument is the guitar and sound effects and to a lesser extent he uses drums. His main goal is to create a wall of sound. No exactly in a traditional noise manner, but perhaps in Swans like manner. Layers upon layers of (wether or not processed) guitars, with minor changed pitches form the massive body of this work. That can be loud but also soft such as the piece 'We Love You Michael Gira'. Drums don't play necessarily a good hook, but rather bang out a good groove, on end, without much variation. If they arrive at all. In each piece it seems to be taking a while to get there and they sound like they have been filtered through some computer plug in section. Pieces are long but never too long, as the changes aren't that minimal that they arrive unnoted. In every piece something changes rather quickly. Five tracks, just, no more, but with great, exhausting, power. One to leave you behind rather tired.

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