A Closer Listen
With Polygon Reflections, Galya Bisengalieva has become the latest artist to release an entirely remixed and reimagined version of her latest album ~ virtually a new work ~ joining Glacier, The Cure and Hatis Noit, the later who also appears on this set. This is not only a great way to draw welcome attention to the original compositions, but to amplify subtle nuances and add fresh perspectives.
But first, it’s important to remind listeners of the album’s original intent: to focus our attention to the ravaging of sacred Kazakh land by the Russians, who irradiated the steppe known as the Polygon with 456 nuclear tests, destroying the local ecosystem, taking what they claimed was “uninhabited” and turning it into the uninhabitable.
The original “Alash-Kala,” the opening track of Polygon, introduced a sense of foreboding, with dark drones, crumbling electronics and Bisengalieva’s forlorn violin lines. The same track also opens Polygon Reflections as The Bug adds what sounds like air raid sirens – drawing immediate comparison to the war in Ukraine – and a stark, heavy beat. Instead of foreboding, this is all-out menace, a clear turn toward darkness, no longer crumbling, but collapsing.
“Saryzhal” demonstrates just how different multiple versions of the same track can be. Boldly positioned back to back, Hatis Noit and KMRU‘s takes on the track operate in different universes. Hatis Noit adds rustles, whispers and restrained voice, contributing a sense of mystery: of words unspoken and secrets too long kept. The violin grows more apparent midway than it had before; at the same time, the words turn into a song. The pulse of the original becomes a filament in KMRU’s hands, as he teases out the ambient aspects of the original piece. Fuller and thicker, the reflection stretches the strings like taffy, attaching them to both ends of the piece.
The title track of Polygon receives the most drastic treatment, as Балхаш снится adds Balkhash Dreaming’s poetry and musical samples from the 1930s. The lyrics speak of a history teacher who was mocked by her students, despite the fact that “she was not just a teacher of history but a living history lesson;” as Amre Kashaubayev’s tones rise in the background, one mourns all that was and all that could have been.
The order of “Chagan” and “Balapan” is switched on Polygon Reflections. “Chagan,” an extremely understated piece, is given over to Aisha Devi, who sings and adds sparkling electronics, turning an introverted track into an extroverted one. “Balapan,” which sometimes sounds like bees with a beat, receives the opposite sort of treatment from Hinako Omori. Most of the drums are replaced by clicks, the foreground electronics shifted to the background, producing a whole new tone.
“Sary Uzen” and “Degelen” exist in two forms: each receives their own, and Alva Noto combines them both. The original “Sary Uzen” was just under two minutes long, an undulating piece with starts and stops, well worth extending. Lucy Liyou makes it sound even more melancholy, akin to whalesong, replacing silences with lulls and adding intimations of bells. “Degelen,” the last track of Polygon, shifts from attack to drone, smoothing out as it goes; Kevin Richard Martin concentrates on the latter half, pinning it to Gas-like percussion on this digital-only reflection, while Alva Noto creates a medley that seems like a single composition edging its way toward a more active state. Bonus track or no, “Degelen” is the closing piece; but in each remix, the track builds rather than recedes. One might consider this to be a hint of hope for the steppe as it continues what will be a centuries-long process of recovery. The musicians, poets and writers who once lived there may be gone, but their witness remains. (Richard Allen)
Thu Aug 21 00:01:22 GMT 2025