kommando raumschiff zitrone
f i r s t   t i m e   e v e r   i   s a w   y o u r   f a c e quincunx sound recordings 001
(release date: 09/2006)

kai fagaschinski: clarinet
christof kurzmann: lloopp, devices & clarinet*

1. roberta (12'33)
2. aisha (6'58)
3. marisol (8'18)
4. chow* (17'01)
5. irina (6'36)
6. roberta (reprise) (4'13)

recorded by christoph amann at amann studio, vienna, march 4th, 2004
mixed by christof and kai
mastered by christoph amann
photos by alfonso strap steck (marisol sanchez) and boris hauf (kai & christof)
cover design by asi foecker
supported by ske/austro mechana
thanks to christoph, marisol, alfonso, boris, asi, richard pinnell, alastair wilson, roberta flack, markus lidauer & ske/austro mechana


reviews:

the wire Kai Fagaschinski and Christof Kurzmann are Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone (Command Spaceship Lemon).  The duo is named after the now defunct Raumschiff Zitrone performance space in Berlin, which Fagaschinski programmed, latterly with Kurzmann’s help, between 2000-06.  As players, Kurzmann (lloopp, devices and, on one track, clarinet) and Fagaschinski (clarinet) have a strong track record in improvised and experimental musics, and on this recording the weight of their combined experience is immediately apparent.  Whereas the first half of “Aisha” is quiet, dry and sparse, in the second half Fagaschinski’s clarinet is loud and harsh, occasionally filigreed with Kurzmann’s electronic doodles.  All of the tracks – perhaps bar “Chow” – are named after women, and each has a distinctive and complex set of characteristics.  “Irina” is elusive and mysterious.  “Marisol” comprises mostly wisps of sound, without obvious continuity, though eventually deep foghorn notes and a certain solemnity ensue.  “Chow” is forthcoming, diverse, and perhaps the most immediately rewarding track.  It covers a lot of ground, and even involves a snippet of Chinese pop song, before establishing a strong rhythmic basis for Fagaschinski to play with.
Frankly, in lesser hands this material could easily sound naïve or gauche, but Kurzmann and Fagaschinski carry it off with aplomb. But it’s the first track, “Roberta”, a reprise of which brings the session to a close, which best illustrates their command of the material.  Allowing Roberta Flack’s splendid “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” to run as source material for a couple of minutes is dangerous, in that it could all too easily dominate the proceedings and hamper musical development.  That’s not what happens.  Fagaschinski threads lyrical clarinet lines through and alongside the vocal before veering off into much more abstract territory, while Kurzmann’s fluttery church-organ electronics initially seem to mimic, in a dreamy manner, the rise and fall of the chords.  As the song fades away, leaving Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone to their own devices for almost another ten minutes, its contours and emotional characteristics slowly begin to morph.  Offering more than just an affectionate reading, Kurzmann and Fagaschinski add value to the song rather than vampirically drawing energy from it.
by brian marley (uk, 11/2006)

westzeit Den Freunden guter Musik (Achtung Querpass!) ist das Berliner "Raumschiff Zitrone" als Bühne für die europäische (Elektro-)Improvisationsszene ein Begriff, als "Band"-Name aber eher neu. Hinter KRZ stecken die Wiederholungstäter Fagaschinski und Kurzmann (nebenbei auch die Clubbetreiber), die sich mit der gewohnten (Stil)Sicherheit durch die freien Labyrinthe bewegen: Die Klarinette antwortet dem Rechner - die lloopp-software der menschlichen Finger- und Lungenfertigkeit. Die Raumschiffkommandanten brechen dabei mit einigen Improv-Standards: Kein minimal-abstraktes artwork, sondern ein freundlich-verschlafenes Damenantlitz auf dem Cover und bei "Roberta" ertönt beinahe massenkompatibler Gesang. Spannend ist das allemal. ****
by karsten zimalla (germany, 12/2006)

touching extremes the most unlikely elements are gathered in this first release by quincunx starting from the cover, a close-up of a girl named marisol sanchez in less-than-pin-up attitude and, in the internal side, the nicely disquieting faces of the protagonists, christof kurzmann (lloopp software, devices and clarinet in one track) and kai fagaschinski (clarinet throughout - but it's not so easy). the cd title, plus the first and the last tracks are all respectful tips of the hat to roberta flack, whose sampled song acts as a launching pad for fagaschinski to perform a slant accompaniment with beautiful clarinet tones that after a few minutes get into the flesh of the matter, with kurzmann activating his deforming mastery to proceed through lapses and faults of the otherwise perfect harmony, schmaltzy chords warped into smoke rings of inexplicable anti-harmony interrupted by hissing, clucking and sharp acute signals, the overall results almost sublime. the "marisol" track is particularly loved by this writer: at one point in the general circuit there's a sudden slowdown of asymmetric repetitions, everything converging in a pulsating hum that's so unconsciously consonant, one almost feels like being splashed right back into mummy's amniotic liquid. fagaschinski's "style", if you listen close enough (and that means by headphones), gives the illusion of being able to vivisection the unbelievable control he exercises on every segment of his instrument. i regularly remain astonished by his multiphonics, within which the clarinettist manages to carve tiny fragments of shattered melodies that travel the same internal paths of the contrapuntal harmonics generated by tuvan throat singers (and their descendents). one feels at one and the same time lobotomized and schooled when approaching this release, which constitutes a banging start for this london-based label and a milestone in kurzmann and fagaschinski's careers
by massimo ricci (italy, 11/2006)

de:bug In der Zitrone verstecken sich Kai Fagaschinski und Christof Kurzmann und der Titel des Albums bezieht sich auf jenen Ewan MacColl-Hit, den vor ihnen schon Roberta Flack, Shirley Bassey und Johnny Cash verwurstet haben. In ihrer Version bleibt aber schon nach kürzester Zeit nur noch ein Orgelloop und danach höchstens noch die Ahnung des Originals stehen. Es bleibt eine elegisch mäandernde Klarinettenimprovisation. Die anderen fünf Titel leuchten die weiten Möglichkeiten der Kombination Klarinette (Fagaschinski) und der eigens für Live-Improvisationen programmierte Software „Lloopp“ (Kurzmann) gut aus. Ruhige, geräuschhafte Parts wechseln ab mit Klarinetten-Sirenen, verfremdete Anblas-Sounds mit tiefst-gepitchten Tönen, ein weit entfernter und wunderbar integrierter Asia-Pop-Loop schafft mit digitalen Rückwärtssounds mysteriöse Atmosphären. Und am Ende kommen sie wieder bei Roberta Flack an. *****
by asb (germany, 02/2007)

bad alchemy Gesandwicht zwischen Roberta Flacks souligem Schmusesong sind Flirts von Kai Fagaschinski und seiner Klarinette mit den Lloopps, Devices & ebenfalls der Klarinette von Christof Kurzmann. Offenbar wollen die beiden mit ihren Sounds die Schönheiten Aisha, Marisol, Chow und Irina becircen? Nun, die richtige Frau hat den richtigen Blick für innere Werte. Denn ansonsten hätte ich Zweifel, ob der diskrete Charme dieser Klänge den direkten Weg von Herz zu Herz zu bahnen im Stande ist. Der mit Elbwasser getaufte Fagschinski ist in BA inzwischen ein Haushaltsname. Sein alpenländischer Partner hat längst seine Vergangenheit mit Extented Versions hinter sich gelassen, mit Projekten wie Shabotinski und Orchester 33 1/3 neue Bewunderer gefunden und pflegt seit einigen Jahren mit Schnee und 4rooms und weiteren Vertretern der New Silence auf der Achse Wien-Berlin die Kunst des elektronischen Feinschliffs. Die Klarinette zupft ganz zart an den Ohrläppchen oder bläst fast schon intim über die Nackenhärchen. Die Elektronik bitzelt wie ein Glas Sprudel vor sich hin, brummt wie ein zufriedener Teddybär oder wedelt hundeherzig mit dem Stummelschwanz. Oder sie zuckt und flattert laptopsexy, während der andere gurrt oder in einem schrillen Aliendialekt Süßholz raspelt. Ich will den Symbolwert der Zitrone nicht gegen die beiden Musikanten kehren. Marisol jedenfalls scheint kein Bisschen sauer auf sie zu sein.
by rigobert dittmann (germany, 02/2007)

bagatellen softly strummed acoustic guitar chords, some low, plaintive moans from a clarinet that seem only tangentially related and then…roberta flack. not your typical beginning to a contemporary improv disc. oh, and the cover as you can see, as well as one of the inside flaps, features a photo of the otherwise not notably involved though quite attractive marisol sanchez. did i mention that the spine and back cover are hot pink? the days of ascetic eai packaging may be numbered. then there’s kommmando raumschiff zitrone. i mean, wtf? commander lemon spaceship?
the utilization of popular song in a free improv format has always been, for this listener, a double-edged sword. on the one hand, if the tune thus revivified is well-chosen, there’s the pleasant shock of discovering, “damn, that’s a really nice song!” (especially when embedded in a new, hopefully fascinating context) combined with the undeniable if guilty frisson of pleasure experienced by virtue of the song itself. on the other may be the nagging suspicion that the musicians involved are…cheating, using this piece of candy to sweeten what may otherwise be a bland concoction that, left on its own, might fail to hold interest. i found my opinion, not surprisingly, fluctuating in this regard over the two versions (the last a “reprise”—how cute!) of “roberta” presented here. fagaschinski’s clarinet adds a wonderfully bitter and piquant obbligato to flack’s undeniably gorgeous voice, simultaneously tracking it and offering divergent possible pathways. she lasts only a few minutes before being swallowed by the electronic effluvia and the track (d)evolves for another 8-9 minutes, maintaining the languid and melancholy mood of the original song, kurzmann’s lloopp software generating rounds of soft organ-like flutters, the reed breathing in and out microtonally. it’s a lovely piece (likewise the reprise) though i sometimes think the lion’s share of the credit goes to the flack tune for creating the atmosphere; not that it matters.
the four works sandwiched between the flacks also bear female first names (i’m making an assumption on “chow”) but don’t, with one brief exception, refer to previously existing songs. “aisha” and “irina” are fine if a tad dry, the former a quiet series of clarinet puffs and computerized rumblings that get a bit frantic and sci-fi blippy, the latter also subdued, sparser though with fewer gripping elements than i would like to have encountered. “marisol”, however, is as attractive as its namesake, a calm though pensive series of distant foghorn-like tones and breathwork from fagaschinski. but my favorite cut on this disc is “chow”, lady friend or otherwise. kurzmann conjures up spare but seemingly vast soundscapes, near-vacant planes inhabited by the odd sizzle and snap, the clarinet in the role of nomad, warily traversing the expanse. several minutes in, an odd rhythmic figure emerges as well as what sound like distant muted fuzz guitar samples, each contributing to the desert-hallucinatory sense. “chow” runs 17 minutes, the longest track here, and maintains rapt fascination throughout, the wastes giving way to dual clarinet steam-letting, an old chinese pop tune, harsher reedwork, and static pulses; strong piece.
as the reprise fades away, i still have a few misgivings dangling around but, hell, it does actually sound pretty great. for the time being, i’d say this popsicle is worth the lick.
by brian olewnick (usa, 09/2006)

blow up RIDUZIONISMO CONTAMINATO
Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face - CD Quincunx recordings - tt-55:38
La collaborazione tra Christof Kurzmann e Kai Fagaschinski prende il curioso e kitsch nome di Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone. Il Raumschiff Zitrone è stato, fino alla sua chiusura ad ottobre, uno dei luoghi chiave della sperimentazione berlinese. „First Time ...“ è la prima uscita discografica ufficiale (o facilmente reperibile) del duo che, peraltro, opera dal 2002. Nel concept del lavoro c‘ è qualcosa di analogo allo „schnee_live“ insieme a Stangl, la destrutturazione della forma canzone. Coma là si rimasticava una canzone di Prince trasformandone l‘eco mnemonico-melodico in fall out impro-elettroacustico, qui l‘intro, filosoficamente‘ plunderphonic recupera il refrain di First Time Ever I Saw Your Face di Roberta Flack e la manifesta sui fuochi fatui del clarinetto di Fagaschinski (suoni sottesi, acusticamente drone, la ricerca di armonici pre-musicali) e sui loops (anzi, come scrivono, i lloopp) con annessi digitalia di Kurzmann, prima in forma di refrain circolare di organo e poi come umor sonoro per i grignotages del legno. Basterebbe la perfetta tripartizione di Roberta (questo il ‚nuovo‘ titolo del pezzo) a fare di questo disco un ascolto essenziale. Ma anche gli altri fantasmi di donna che seguono hanno una disastrata bellezza. Aisha grattugia tra acustico ed elettronico senza che riusciate a distinguere l‘origine della granaglia. Marisol e Irina fanno sembrare gli Nmperign una band heavy metal. Chow, la composizione più complessa, si estende per oltre un quarto d‘ora e sviluppa temi senza soluzione di continuità che si contaminano, pur mantenendo proprie specifiche disponendosi come un trittico sonoro. Nella prima parte schegge della voce del clarinetto, nella seconda una primordiale forma melodica che si appoggia su giro pulsante di solfware, nella terza un decollage anche con frammenti a settantotto giri. Il suono che si fa ripulendo la memoria. Dall‘amore all‘entropia. (8)
by dionisio capuano (italy, 01/2007)

signal to noise Alastair Wilson's Quincunx Sound Recordings has chosen for its first release the oddly named Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone, the moniker adopted by Kai Fagaschinski (clarinet) and Christof Kurzmann (here using his own software program "lloopp" as well as various electronic devices and, on "Chow" clarinet). Just in case you're wondering, the title is no mere reference to the Roberta Flack song; on the two versions of "Roberta" that serve as bookends on this fantastic disc, the old tune is actually employed and mutilated audibly. Fagaschinski seems incapable of making recordings that aren't excellent, and he's perfectly matched with Kurzmann, whose subtle and often humorous transformations of source material are captivating. The clarinetist has a marvelous chalumeau tone and an awesome control of overtones. The two frequently create enchanting effects by worrying different intervals, phasing them in and out of synch with each other. The whole disc has a luminescent quality to it, the sumptuous textures seeming to glow from within. Whether the slow shuffle and burble of "Aisha", the menacing groans of "Marisol", the cavernous space of "Irina", or the clanging bells of "Chow" (with radio captures of East Asian song form), the sweetly sour KRZ is in superb form.
by jason bivins (u.s.a., 03/2007)

gaz-eta Niemiecko-austriacki duet Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone (nazwa formacji pochodzi od, nieistniejącego już, berlińskiego klubu, z którym muzycy przez długi czas byli związani) tworzą Kai Fagaschinski (klarnet) i Christof Kurzmann (komputer, którego jedną z aplikacji stanowi opracowany przez Klausa Filipa program muzyczny lloopp oraz kilka tajemniczych urządzeń i w jednym utworze klarnet). Choć obaj muzycy współpracują ze sobą regularnie od wielu lat, to "First Time I Ever Saw Your Face" jest dopiero pierwszą "długogrającą" i zarazem szerzej dostępną płytą firmowaną przez KRZ. Jest to tez pierwsza pozycja w katalogu debiutującej brytyjskiej wytworni Quincunx. To mocne otwarcie - płyta to zaiste przednia - dobrze temu labelowi wróży na przyszłość.
Nagrania, które znalazły się na "First Time I Ever Saw Your Face", noszą tytuły będące kobiecymi imionami (tak mi się przynajmniej zdaje, bo nie jestem pewny, czy "Chow" to także imię żeńskie; nie wiem nawet, czy to w ogóle jest imię), więc być może poszczególne utwory mają być muzycznymi portretami. Płytę otwiera "Roberta" - pierwsze sekundy to "normalna" wersja piosenki Ewana MacColla "pożyczona" z płyty "First Take" Roberty Flack. Po chwili wokalistce półgłosem tęsknie zaczyna wtórować klarnet, z oddali dochodzą, organom podobne, falujące dźwięki od-komputerowe. Z czasem zsamplowane głos, gitara, kontrabas i fortepian toną w oceanie klarnetowych tryli i elektronicznych zawirowań, jednak przyniesiona przez nie szczypta melancholii wciąż jest obecna, nawet jeśli uwięziona jest we wstęgach glissand i dźwięków kombinowanych, cyfrowych świergotów, trzasków i dronów. Po "Robercie" przychodzi pora na "Aishę" - kobietę pełną sprzeczności. Po kilku minutach spokoju, wypełnionych tylko delikatnym przedmuchiwaniem klarnetu, cichymi cmoknięciami, stłumionymi elektronicznymi szmerami i bliżej nieokreślonymi szelestami, następuje zmiana. Lekko schizofreniczna końcówka utworu należy już wyłącznie do klarnetowych przedęć, buczącego komputerowego dronu oraz nieco groteskowej elektronicznej melodyjki. Wraz z "Marisol" wraca utracony na krótko spokój. Szelesty, szmery, delikatne skrzypienie, łagodne bulgoty stopniowo przeradzają się w tłumione flażolety, dopełnione laptopowym mrocznym ambientem. Następnie przychodzi kolej na opus magnum tej płyty - siedemnastominutowe epickie nagranie "Chow", rozciągające się od wolno wybrzmiewających przedęć klarnetu kontrapunktowanych "wiolonczelą z komputera" oraz delikatnymi zakłóceniami, poprzez naturalne zapętlenie partii klarnetu, regularne elektroniczne pulsowanie i mechaniczne rytmy, dialogi dwóch klarnetów, multifonie i glissanda, legata i staccata, chiński pop odnaleziony na falach eteru, elektroniczne cykady i świerszcze, "laptopową lirę korbową" do nieco monumentalnego, ale dalekiego od patosu finału. Następująca po nim "Irina" to utwór zdecydowanie bardziej jednorodny, lecz na pewno nie jednowymiarowy. Nie ma w nim nagłych skoków nastroju, tylko spokój i wyciszenie. To soundtrack wieczornego spaceru po zaśnieżonych polach - ciężko oddychający klarnet, wspomagany niewiele głośniejszymi od ciszy, odgłosami odległej elektronicznej zamieci, prowadzi swą ascetyczną partię na granicy słyszalności. Na koniec powraca "Roberta". "(reprise)" zaczyna się dialogiem gitary i klarnetu, obok dygoce komputerowy glitch, po minucie pojawia się, zanikający chwilami, głos Roberty Flack. W drugiej połowie utworu śpiew i towarzyszące mu kojące smyczki, wychodzą na pierwszy plan, wokół nich krąży klarnet? i nagle płyta się kończy.
EAI w wydaniu Kommmando Raumschiff Zitrone to mocny - raz ścisły, kiedy indziej luźny - splot brzmień akustycznych i elektronicznych, obywający się bez zwyczajowego w takim przypadku podziału na osnowę oraz wątek. Partie klarnetu i elektronika w pełnej symbiozie współtworzą strukturę utworów. Co prawda zdarza się, że chwilami dominuje ten pierwszy, zaś innym razem wybijają się dźwięki pochodzące z komputera, ale na ogół równowaga między nimi jest utrzymywana w sposób perfekcyjny, i jeśli nawet w danym momencie coś się wyróżnia, to wygląda na to, że taki właśnie był zamysł muzyków. Z analogiczną konsekwencją budują poszczególne utwory, konstruując ich zaskakująco, jak na swobodną improwizację, zdyscyplinowane i wyważone formy. "First Time I Ever Saw Your Face" to nietuzinkowa płyta, sięgnijcie po nią koniecznie.
by tadeusz kosiek (poland, 01/2007)

all about jazz This is an ingenious and beguiling CD. It opens with the familiar strains of Roberta Flack singing Ewan McColl’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” soon joined by Kai Fagaschinski’s clarinet and Christof Kurzmann producing an appropriately churchy organ-like sound, improvising along with the track. After about two minutes, Roberta Flack fades away, leaving the duo to continue improvising, retaining the strong mood Flack created. Although they continue for more than ten minutes, the source material seems to linger in the air, its dominant atmosphere all pervasive; one hears the improvisation as a continuation of Flack. Oh, the power of pop music!
As a clarinettist, Fagaschinski strongly favours long, sustained notes with a hint of vibrato, which contribute to an air of melancholy. Kurzmann occasionally introduces high frequency sine wave whines as contrast, but mainly employs drones that complement the clarinet well. There is not much variation or development, but there doesn’t need to be; one could happily listen to these modulating drones for hours. For the closing track, a reprise of the opener, Flack gradually fades back in alongside the duo’s improvisations, giving the album a pleasing symmetry and bringing it to a satisfying conclusion.
In between the intro and the outro, there are four contrasting tracks that are in slightly more traditional improv territory and demonstrate the duo’s range. “Aisha” combines clarinet pad noise and flutterings with a range of electronic sounds—high frequency white noise, prayer bowl ringing, low frequency chopper sounds, etc.—in a piece that never satisfactorily gels. “Marisol” (all the pieces seem to carry women’s names) is far more successful; a very understated piece, employing similar sounds and methods to “Aisha,” it achieves a taut, tense, brooding atmosphere that stands up well to repeated listening.
“Chow” (is that a woman’s name?) is the longest track here at over seventeen minutes, and the most compatible with the title pieces. After a prolonged bout of clarinet and electronics, not dissimilar to the preceding tracks, it also includes a sampled Chinese pop song (uncredited) midway through that kickstarts a clarinet duet which retains the rhythm of the song. As before, the sound and mood of the pop song lingers, colouring the mood of the piece, for the better.
I’ve thought long and hard about other uses of pop songs in contexts similar to those here, and only come up with Stock, Hausen & Walkman’s (scandalous!) use of Kylie Minogue’s “I Should Be So Lucky,” and Terry Riley’s cut up version of “You’re No Good.” How about a discussion thread to share others?
Anyway… the use here is stunningly effective.
by john eyles (u.s.a., 01/2007)

gaz eta How do you take a tune, stretch it out and work from its simple melody to make an album of improvised music? Simple. You put clarinet player Kai Fagaschinski and laptop/electronics guru Christof Kurzmann in one room and let them go wild. Their duet which goes by the name Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone [Command Spaceship Lemon] works off quite a sweat throughout the duration of this record. What starts off with a lovely rendition of Roberta Flack's "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" on "Roberta", sees Fagaschinski improvise along Flack with such honest beauty, you'd think the entire record would head into pop music territory. [In fact, this is the finest virtual duet since The Orb re-made "A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules From the Centre of the Ultraworld" with Minnie Ripperton almost two decades ago.] But no, wait! Less than two minutes into the track, things change pace and quite rapidly too. While Kurzmann switches into overdrive with lloopp software that resembles a haunted church organ, his partner blows extended lines into the mouthpiece. The sounds are quite lovely and the duo rolls on to other musical territories. By the time we get to "Aisha" [all tracks are named after women], landscape becomes quite abstract. While Kurzmann develops a soft spot for tender-spoken drone, Fagaschinski delivers subtle spittle into the mouthpiece, interspersed with occasional bird-call sounds. Personal favourite is the extended "Chow", which runs for 17 minutes. During its course, the track goes from subtlety of soft-spoken clarinet ruffles, supplemented with horse-hoof sounds emanating from Kurzmann, to drone-induced section where both men play clarinets, finally crashing in a static-free concoction of fervour and majestic sound. The whole record ends on another high note with a reprise of "Roberta". As Miss Flack sings her classic tune in the background, the foreground is occupied with intense clarinet melodies matching the vocalist's prowess. Can pop music and eai exist hand-in-hand? In this case, the answer is a resounding yes!
by tom sekowski (poland, 04/2007)

vital weekly In Berlin there was the Raumschiff Zitrone, a performance space ran by Kai Fagaschinski and Christof Kurzmann, which hosted experimental and improvised music concerts. On october 26th of last year they closed their doors. But the Kommando Raumschiff Zitrone (which translates as Command Spaceship Lemon) continues. It's a duo of the organizers who first played together at the club with the same name in 2002, at the Christmas party. 'First Time...' is the first widely available CD, which was already recorded in 2004, by legendary improvised music producer Christoph Amann (I realize that I hardly mention his name, but his studio is used a lot for the recording of this kind of music). Fagaschinski plays clarinet and Kurzmann plays also clarinet (on the longest track, not on the other five), lloop (some live software thing) and devices. The cover of this release may suggest some cheesy popmusic (keep in mind the title) and certainly points deliberately in the 'wrong' direction, but it's all hardcore 'soft' improvisation. Careful and silent are the two keywords for this work. The clarinet play long sustained tones and clusters, whilst beneath the surface there is the lively activity of insect like sounds, chirping, buzzing, sometimes loaded with activity and sometimes alone humming time away. It's music to keep your full attention with, otherwise you might easily miss out on the finer subtle parts. Only then it will unfold it's full beauty. Not really a surprising new disc of improvised music, but certainly a very fine, high quality disc.
by frans de waard (netherlands, 03/2007)

hinah première sortie sur ce jeune label anglais, où l'on retrouve kai fagaschinski et christof kurzmann réunis sous le patronyme kommando raumschiff zitrone. ce first time ever i saw your face permet de renouer avec plusieurs composantes déjà rencontrées dans certains de leurs projets: la cohabitation entre lloopp et la clarinette évoque los glissandinos (le duo kai fagaschinski et klaus filip), tandis que l'attachement à la voix et les traces de pop rappellent certaines explorations entreprises par schnee (le duo christof kurzmann et burkhard stangl), et où les battements, les crépitements, les soupirs, les silences coexistent avec des phases plus mélodieuses.
by laurent orseau (france, 12/2006)

jazzword [...] First Time I Ever Saw Your Face is something else again. It lines up Dannenberg-born clarinetist Kai Fagaschinski – who also partners Thieke on Mainstream – with sound manipulator Christof Kurzmann. Vienna-born Kurzmann, who also plays clarinet on the CD’s longest track, otherwise mixes and contrasts Fagaschinski’s woodwind resonance with lloopp software, devices specifically designed for live improvising.
[...] A matched vocal-instrumental affiliation is more viable throughout First Time… however, because Flack’s contribution is sampled, not live and controlled as he sees fit by Kurzmann’s lloopp device. Both on the title track and on “Roberta (reprise)”, after a theme statement, her impassioned singing dissolves into sound atoms and is replicated then replaced by chalumeau tinctures from Fagaschinski’s clarinet. Even at those points, before Fagaschinski’s carefully measured arpeggios begin to fade, software mulches the split-tone smears and lip-bubbling textures into abstract droning signals, as non-instrumentally specific as they are non-vocal.
Otherwise, the counterpoint here is between man and machine. Motor-driven pulses share space with lip sputtering, while single intakes of breath and mouse-squeaking reed timbres are displayed among triggered whooshes and flanges from the lloopp. Should Fagaschinski vibrate split tones, suggesting both high-pitched and low-pitched respired textures, then blurry intimations of backwards-running tapes from Kurzmann’s devices connect them into a single solid ululating tone.
Clattering and twisted mechanized crashes and crackles provide the third voice on “Chow”, which finds both Fagaschinski and Kurzmann on clarinets. Harsh, slurring and with definite woody overtones, Fagaschinski’s reed-biting and tongue-stopping altissimo passages command centre stage as muzzy, disconnected lines from the second reed vibrate and sampled snatches of a child singing is also heard.
Eventually the harmonica-like chromatic note patterns from the dual reeds are isolated from the spinning, interchangeable, software-created tones. Interactive as well as detached, Fagaschinski’s acoustic chirps eventually turn pastoral, the better to contrast with the post-industrial revolution polyrhythms of Kurzmann’s devices.
Taking ostensive pop sources as raw material on which to build improvisations confirms that Berlin-based creators remain committed to finding unique forms of playing and composing.
by ken waxman (canada, 06/2007)