Andrew Pekler Cue

Anrew Pekler's Cue starts with On, a drifting cluster of repetitions and loops, distant and fuzzy, interlocking to create discreet rhythms, more moody than melodic, and the instrumental album generally stays in this mode. Released on Kranky, an experimentally prone label that would probably historically count Out Hud as its most "pop" artist, Cue is Pekler's effort to make library music, the kind of thing intended to be sold for generic use in film and TV with little regard to the personality of its anonymous creator.

This is not something I would have figured out from the package and the content, which alone just seems like a curious collection of nearly ambient compositions cobbled together from layers of dusty loops. Most of what I found on the internet, however, focused on this "library music" concept. Looking at the album, the clues start to accumulate. The title, larger than any other word, dwarfing Pekler's own name, describes this musical utility. These are not songs, but "cues" to be inserted into programs for canned mood. The op art wavy lines that decorate the package evoke a bygone era of elaborate animated credits sequences. Each track contains a helpful summary, the better to select which to use for a certain scene without even listening first.

Perhaps so much is made of the idea because there is so little to make of the music. Its not that it's bad, but it is utilitarian musical product and Pekler's brief explanations probably come close to summing it up (for Steady State: "repetitive bed for science/mystery, miniaturized percussion"). It is perfectly adequate for background, and though with a painful amount of attention there are intriguingly subtle dynamics and peculiar feelings, for the most part actively listening would be greatly helped by having a movie to throw it underneath. It purposefully stops short of evoking the imaginary film itself, as fantasy soundtrack albums do.

For what he set out to do, Pekler is successful, though this is not traditionally engaging music to play for friends. It is even ironicly personal, in that the techniques and aesthetic reveal Pekler's uniqueness rather than submerge him in a recreation of faceless musicians for hire. It is a stretch to imagine Cue used for, say, a 70s genre show, but its hazy, humble compositions would not feel out of place in a lonely hipster's independent mumblecore epic. Maybe its a generational thing, but this music just feels like it would be right to be tacked on top of shaky cameras, digital grit, awkward jump cuts and pensive protagonists. There's even a Pensive Boogie here ("thumb piano + moody synthesizer, recorded in a wind tunnel").