*200 copies limited edition* Reading Group is proud to present the debut album of a new ensemble of some of the most adventurous artists in and around London’s contemporary music scene. X-Ray Hex Tet is the confluence of Seymour Wright (alto saxophone), Crystabel Riley (drums), Edward George (words and recordings), Pat Thomas (piano and electronics), Paul Abbott (real and imaginary drums), and Billy Steiger (celeste and violin). Wright and Abbott, elsewhere as XT, have developed a private language in their uncompromising explorations of the “histories and logics of the saxophone and drum kit.” Wright and Thomas make up half of the extraordinary research ensemble [Ahmed], named after legendary oudist and bassist Ahmed Abdul-Malik. ([Ahmed]’s Giant Beauty is undoubtedly one of the best releases of 2024). Here, the music is transformed through the quasi-narrative presence of Edward George, the seminal scholar of dub and founding member of the great Black Audio Film Collective (1982-1998). Artist and multi-instrumentalist Billy Steiger provides subtle textural sway beneath the chaos on the violin, as well as eerily unaffected punctuation on celeste, shimmering in the corners as if in the postapocalyptic final moments of Shostakovich’s Fourth Symphony. The percussive core of the group is carried by Crystabel Riley, frequent collaborator with Wright and formerly of the power noise trio Maria and the Mirrors. Her drums move through the storm with geological heft, rolling like a small avalanche.
From the sound of this album, recorded live at the Taktlos Festival in Zurich in 2023, the music of X-Ray Hex Tet appears well-nigh impossible to represent. After ascending to its vertiginous heights, though, what comes to mind is a small undercanon of music about history: not in any facile programmatic way, but in its very logic, on the level of form. (Think of Matana Roberts’s Coin Coin cycle, Iannis Xenakis’s Persepolis, Morton Feldman’s Coptic Light.) X-Ray Hex Tet intends towards totality, as a striving, as a gravitational pull. Our feet are swept up in Riley’s cascading drums and we reach out for some resolution to ground us but grasp only shards of alto saxophone, a cacophonous web of samples, gossamer string textures, and electronic whirrs. George’s voice emerges out of this thicket and hovers above it, intoning the names of—or reappearing as—those who have most recently represented the violent threshold of history. From this angle we are both under the avalanche and being blown away from it like a composite recording angel of history: there is no place outside the storm from which to reflect upon it.
