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Lars Lundehave Hansen’s “Terminal Velocity” Will Breach Your Perception of Space

by Alex York

Lars Lundehave Hansen’s LP​ Terminal Velocity ​opens​ ​a​ ​true​ ​warp​ ​in​ ​the​ ​listener’s perception​ ​of​ ​space—in​ ​the​ ​informal​ ​sense—​and​ ​time.​ ​Venturing​ ​through​ ​twenty-one ​tracks ​in​ around​ ​forty minutes,​ ​each​ ​piece​ ​is ​truly indivisible by​ ​standard​ ​structured​ ​means.​ ​The​ ​performer​ ​is​ ​not beginning​ ​or​ ​ending​ ​the​ ​pieces;​ ​they​ ​are​ ​each​ ​being​ ​unveiled​ ​to​ ​you,​ ​and​ ​you​ ​can​ ​see,​ ​hear​, ​and feel​ ​that​ ​they’ve​ ​existed​ ​long​ ​before​ ​you​ ​came​ ​to​ ​realize.

This​ ​album​ ​goes​ ​beyond​ ​intellectual​ ​prowess; ​it​ ​is​ ​overtly​ ​emotional.​ ​No​ ​passive​ ​listening experience​ ​can​ ​be​ ​had with Terminal Velocity.​ ​The​ ​execution​ ​becomes​ ​irrelevant. You​ ​can​ ​only​ ​focus​ ​on​ ​what​ ​you​ ​hear and​ ​the​ ​vision​ ​of​ ​each​ ​universe​ ​as​ ​you​ ​pass​ ​through​ ​it.​ ​The​ ​timbre​ ​and​ ​tempo​ ​of​ ​the​ ​drones, and their​ ​constant​ ​motions​ ​paired​ ​with​ ​​cold​ ​sine​ ​waves​ ​push​ ​you​ ​between​ ​it​ ​all.​ ​Always​ ​engulfed throughout,​ ​you’re​ ​floating​ ​and​ ​surrounded. The​ ​space​ ​is​ ​endless; ​nothing​ ​comes​ ​near​ ​or​ ​far, but rather​ ​just churns ​and​ ​evolves from​ ​all​ ​directions.

Lars Lundehave Hansen

The​ ​temperament​ ​of​ ​​Terminal Velocity is​ ​power​ ​in​ ​the​ ​most​ ​somber​ ​sense.​ ​The​ ​ominous​ ​dread is​ ​familiar,​ ​but​ ​the​ ​gasps​ ​and​ ​fluttering​ ​high​ ​tones​ ​bring ​you​ ​away​ ​from​ ​the​ ​receiving​ ​end​ ​into that​ ​of​ ​an​ ​onlooker.​ ​The​ ​whole​ ​story​ ​being​ ​painted​ ​for​ ​you​ ​sets​ ​itself​ ​apart​ ​from​ ​other​ ​ambient, dark​ ​ambient​, ​or​ ​drone​ ​recordings.​ ​Like​ ​life,​ ​even​ ​in​ ​the​ ​most​ ​dense​ ​and​ ​depressive​ ​states​ ​there are​ ​things​ ​to​ ​admire,​ ​or​ ​in​ ​the​ ​least,​ ​observe​ ​as​ ​separate​ ​from​ ​the​ ​adulterated.​ ​You​ ​can​ ​choose to​ ​make​ ​this​ ​part​ ​of​ ​the​ ​terror,​ ​or​ ​a​ ​break​ ​in​ ​the​ ​chorus.

I​ ​would​ ​like​ ​to​ ​note​ ​that​ ​this​ ​record​ ​must ​be​ ​enjoyed​ ​in​ ​a​ ​true​ ​​stereo ​setting.​ ​The​ ​recordings​ ​aid the​ ​listener​ ​more​ ​so​ ​when​ ​you​ ​can​ ​experience​ ​the​ ​motion​ ​of​ ​sounds.​ ​Being​ ​surrounded​ ​is deliberate.​ ​Headphones​ ​would​ ​be​ ​optimal,​ ​of​ ​course,​ ​but​ ​my​ ​experience​ ​sitting​ ​directly​ ​between two​ ​speakers​ ​was​ ​enough​ ​for​ ​me​ ​to​ ​feel​ ​paranoid​ ​that​ ​maybe​ ​I​ ​was​ ​still​ ​stoned​ ​from​ ​earlier​ ​in the​ ​morning.

I​ ​don’t​ ​think​ ​I​ ​have​ ​been​ ​as​ ​floored​ ​by​ ​a​ ​release​ ​since​ ​John​ ​Wiese’s​ ​​Deviate from Balance. ​I cannot​ ​recommend​ ​tracking​ ​down​ ​a​ ​copy​ ​of​ ​this​ ​LP​ ​enough!

Tonometer​ ​Music​​