Words by Justin Turford

The always surprising and inspirational Hive Mind Records have delivered the goods again with this sublime electro-acoustic album from the Kerala born multidisciplinary artist Seljuk Rustum. Recorded in (nearly all) single sessions with musicians who were passing through his studio between 2016 and 2021, the overarching feeling is of freedom, expect the unexpected.

This freedom doesn’t, however, mean shocking intrusions or a wealth of discordancy, the majority of the record is incredibly sensitive and blessed with a playful, humorous heart. We can hear echoes of Seljuk’s background in theatre and improvisational performance (he is a painter, musician, curator, producer, recording engineer and the founder and current Creative Director of performance space, Forplay Society in Kochi (Cochin)), there is very much a storyteller at work here. If I had been told that this album was the soundtrack to a theatrical show or a contemporary Indian arthouse film, there would have been no dismissal from me. Each piece is a singular world, a tale with different strands of enquiry coated in an unusual beauty.

Opener ‘Body Of A Dolphin, Breasts Of A Cloud’ just melts me. A delicious collaboration with the Cochin String Orchestra, the song opens with a ringing acoustic guitar, and a subtle wave of field recorded nature before the drama-filled strings join in. Space is the other collaborator. Just when you think you have a handle on the song, the arrangement stops. Space and silence enters stage left then the full orchestra returns. Unlike many of the tracks here, ‘Body Of A Dolphin..’ leaves a more European neo-classical impression on me, reminiscent of some of Kronos Quartet’s more pastoral work. A spectacular start. ‘The Dancer Is Seen Not Heard’ was composed for BUS (a theatre performance Written & Directed by Firoz Khan) and is made up of a repetitive (though not quite repetitive) sequenced looping motif that sounds both electronic and acoustic. The elaborate patterns of the tabla seem to have been replicated through a synth’s bell sound (I could be wrong) and it’s hypnotic as hell. ‘Desi Bunny’ opens with a female voice from the Alan Lomax Archive (from recordings made in Kerala in the 1970s to document the Malayam language) before falling into a drone and tablas (played by Joffy Chirayath) led mystical tunnel. Bells flicker as the drone deepens behind Sekhar Sudhir’s mandolin and melodica explorations. Spaceship music for the ancients. The brilliantly titled ‘The Happiest Country Has No History’ sounds like a song written for a child. Angular and jaunty with mischievous teasing electric guitar (by Akshay Ashokan) and synth responses counterpointing Seljuk’s gentle voice and Sekhar’s picked acoustic guitar. Cheeky!

‘Sometimes I Sink A Thousand Centuries’ opens with a creaky sounding piano before a picked sitar (I’m guessing here), violin and the otherworldly droning of multilayered throats and hand percussion submerge us into a place of candlelit ritualistic ambience. Seljuk’s saxophone merges with swirling harmonics, warped violins and treated synth pads on the aptly named ‘Fallen Sky’ before moving into the strangely anthemic ‘Oriental Doom (Paper Rocket Migration Dreams)’. Semi-military drums punctuate a densely layered bed of spiralling synths and violin melodies, creating something fantastical and curiously lovely.

One of my initial favourites ‘Export Quality’ harnesses the carefree sentiment of easy village life (is there such a thing in modern India?) with lyrical strings, plucks and shakers, the rhythm a prodding bass tone, the title suggesting a working life perhaps? Maybe it’s ironic. The title track, and another fave ‘Cardboard Castles’ is an off-kilter bass and wonky piano jam with spooky whispering synths and children’s music box twinkles. Trying to describe this is not without difficulty, imagine a daydream where Japanese Anime characters decide to make a record with German dub-jazz outlier Burnt Friedman and it might be half right.

Album closer is possibly the wonkiest track on the record, appropriately titled ‘Zen Coma’. There’s something very Cafe Oto about this. Oddly tuned post-rockish guitars and phantasmagorical keys meander down out-of-the-way alleys, the vibe slightly eerie yet somehow familiar. A fittingly groggy way to end the album. Brilliant 9/10.

Digital Release Date: 03/02/2023

Pre-Order CDs here! https://seljukrustum.bandcamp.com/album/cardboard-castles