Alias / Resurgam

Anticon

In August 2007, after eight years of innovating in Oakland, Alias went home to Portland, Maine, a city which, despite plenty of inclement weather, has burned almost to the ground four times--whose Latin motto translates in no uncertain terms to "I will rise again." Thus, that motto, "Resurgam," is a doubly fitting title for Alias' first solo instrumental album in five years, one which finds the accomplished electro/acoustic musician and beat-smith returning to a proven foundation, while building all else anew.  Perhaps owing to his recent experience crafting collaborative LPs (in 2006 with electro-pop chanteuse Tarsier; in 2005 with his multi-instrumentalist brother Ehren), this is Alias' most melodic work yet. Static, keys, and his own oohs create loads of mellifluous depth. There are also three one-minute-plus explorations into the purely ambient--new territory for Alias--that play more as miniature opuses than interludes.  But Resurgam is also an album of heavy, intricate rhythms, as evidenced by introductory banger "New To A Few," and "M.G. Jack," which begins with the cool asceticism of Boards Of Canada, but peaks with an Avalanches-like exuberance, interweaving patterns of distorted beat-boxing, live percussion, Casio-styled effects, and burbling synth. For all its melodic breadth, Resurgam is imbued with a hip-hop bent that has Alias exploring complex beat-fuckery a la Prefuse 73 even as he's howling notes like Tunde Adibempe, or dicing a Re-Up Gang sample to sprinkle over pensive piano.  Resurgam is also notable for its two collaborative tracks. "Well Water Black" features the falsettos croons and low-toned poems of Why?'s Yoni Wolf--a perfect bit of upbeat downer music that somehow unites The Cure and Burial before crashing into a propulsive, programmed drum solo from Alias. And toward the album's end, The One AM Radio guests on "The Weathering," which paints a wistful dream-scene via icy lyrics and frost-melting fuzz. Though Resurgam was recorded at home, in a six-month burst straddling a blustery winter, its songs feel worldly, considered, and warm, like gentle hands pushing the listener ever onward. By Alias' final wordless statement--titled "Oakland In The Rearview"--it's easy to believe that we too have arrived at more comforting climes.

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