Album Review: Encircle

Auckland Jazz pianist Alan Brown returns with Encircle: his second album built around the rare and exotic Ondomo electronic instrument. Released on Steve Garden’s Rattle label, the 10-track collection is a unique and meditative exploration of ambient soundscapes, improvisation, human vulnerabilities and generative audio systems.

Brown, a respected figure in Aotearoa’s Jazz scene, balances his creative output between his day jobs at Tamaki Makaurau’s SAE Creative Media Institute, working as a vintage keyboard technician and performing in Jazz bands and as an electronic artist. But he has many other strings to his bow  – or should that be notes on his keyboard? Some listeners may know him from regular performances with ensembles like Blue Train. I also noticed he’d recently performed with Indian Classical-Jazz fusion group Takadimi, led by tabla master Manjit Singh. He does a bit of everything, it seems.

I’d never heard of the Ondomo, Brown’s instrument so central to his work. So, I went digging a bit deeper to fid out more. Loosely put, it’s a modern Japanese version of the 1920’s ‘Ondes’ Martenot, invented by Maurice Martenot. Unlike the more widely known Theremin, Martenot’s instrument offered precise pitch control. That was inspired by his background as a cellist. Brown has a model he’d purchased from Naoyuki Omo in Japan, in 2021, who makes them to order.  It features a mechanism that resembles a cello’s fretboard and even has a lever that works a bit like the bow. The ultimate soundscapes created do, at times, I’ll admit, resemble that of a cello – or at least what that instrument might be capable of producing.

Brown’s first ‘Ondomo-based’ album, Ondulation (2023), showcased the instrument’s melodic capabilities. But this new album, Encircle, has softer, more ambient textures to it. To make the record Brown applied a number of app-based generative processes, similar to distorted tape loops. He was going for sonic layers that appear shaped or moulded by some kind of random note generator or robot entity. I wouldn’t say it was AI interplay. This feels very much like a project created in the age of Gerry Anderson or a 70’s Brian Eno more than the modern world of TikTok or Chat GPT.

The ultimate output is tranquil and immersive. Each track – none exceeding 10 minutes – invites some mental reflection – even if that’s drifting off into a soft slumber. And there’s thankfully an abundance of stillness to shut out the endless traffic-din of modern day life. I listened to this on the same day as Taylor Swift released her latest offering, which I found to be bland and formulaic. So, when turning to this album I gratefully found some welcome solace within.

Looking at the individual tracks, none stand out dramatically – they intentionally blend together, yet there are still some moments of note. Set Adrift evokes mist clearing over a warming estuary, while Between Thoughts uses delicate keystrokes and echoing chambers to suggest a struggle for cognitive cohesion amongst the endless onslaught of the irrelevant chatter-cycle. Bioluminescence imagines an organic sci-fi world of slow-moving tropical flora or micro-marine life.

The final and longest track, Isolation Tank, takes listeners on a deep aquatic journey through light, chaos, and eventual calm. Initially, you are floating into the deep waters of your imagination. For me I was happy to meditate amongst the warm blue depths, with shafts of light plunging through. But menacing voices begin to bubble on the surface. Then the distorted static radio interference of ancient electronic devices created a layer of dense information fog that eventually envelopes and drowns out. The droning chaos becomes louder; penetrating and attempting to establish permanent distortion. But calm returns, cutting through like a U-Boat in a murky lagoon, the throbbing engines powering the vessel to the clear waters restoring a state of tranquillity. Of course this is only my interpretation. Whatever Brown was thinking, each listener will own this ambience in their own form.

Although Brown himself has avoided labelling the album as ‘meditative’, I think it really is that. Encircle feels like a sonic breath – music that looks for chaos, then slows itself back down returning to equilibrium. Themes of solitude, mental health, and decay subtly thread through the work, as if machines were expressing human vulnerability. The album’s ambient nature allows each particle of sound to float, bend, and settle, shaped by the gentlest energies.

Encircle is a testament to Brown’s evolving relationship with the Ondomo and his commitment to pushing musical boundaries. It’s music best experienced in quiet, low-light spaces – where stillness can speak loudest.