about this release
Variable running time (guaranteed minimum: 34'35")
Strange, beautiful and bewitching ambient turntablist glitchscape conceptualism.
Lathe cut 12" polycarbonate LP, limited edition of 65 (50 available for sale). Each copy is a unique work of art, housed in a hand-collaged sleeve, and with a free bonus disc.
1| B (mp3)
1| H (mp3)
Anglo-Welsh label Fourier Transform have generated a sterling reputation by becoming less of a record label and more an uncompromising and forward-thinking art project. The latest release is a patched up reworking of ambient electronics and folk and features two tracks both clocking in at around 17 minutes and clicks and jumps with sedate inventiveness. Alongside the label's [other output], Lum Col Con Pix is as rare and thought provoking as the label that is responsible.
James Roberts, Sound Nation
Take numerous turntables, old records with a natural warp and two guys who have an innate skill with the manipulation of said items and you have Lum Col Con Pix in a nutshell. Except it's never as simple as that with records like this. No studio trickery is involved yet challenging is a vast understatement when describing this record. I can best imagine these sounds soundtracking some art installation and suggest they should open up the challenge to artists nationwide to provide a companion piece. Let us journey through this, the most minimal of albums.
To start with the tinkling piano gives you the impression you're being stalked, your unease not letting up until the bursts of opera that send shivers down your spine at around 2 and a half minutes in. And then...you wait and wait expecting something to happen but nothing does until 9 mins when there's a sudden burst of ragtime piano to perk things up swiftly followed by, is that backwards speaking? Quite possibly. The side shuffles on again as it resumes its monotonous rhythm and tempo but then just before the end an ice cream van powers down to end the track.
At a minute and a half a donkey brays and at 6 minutes it goes all medieval on us. One of the great things about this record is that it keeps you guessing and tests your patience, confusing and bemusing at the same time. Then at ten minutes I think I recognise something. Is that a slowed down version of the siren noise from 'Come Home' by James? Maybe, but my senses have been distorted to such an extent it could be anything. Around 16 mins there's a muted evangelical moment, as if all has become clear at last, but no, it's onwards to a few plucked notes and the end. Here's where I'm supposed to wrap up the piece with a witty comment or sage-like musing. Instead I think it's far more appropriate to leave it open ended...
Russell Barker, Russell's Reviews