Pitchfork

Since forming Axolotl in 2004, Karl Bauer has continually proven he can do anything with a drone. On nearly 20 records made mostly alone, he has explored texture, ambience, aggression, and rhythm, without ever sounding generic or indistinct. Memory Theatre compiles three of his hardest-to-find releases-- 2006's "Chemical Theatre" 12-inch and 2005's Oranur and Object Phantom CD-Rs-- which sound even better together than they did apart.

That's because the more you listen to Axolotl, the more recurring ideas and patterns you discover. Bauer's approach is simple: thick drones made with violin, electronics, and voice, sometimes accompanied by primitive percussion. The key to his hypnotic music isn't volume or density, but the way he mixes sounds and builds momentum. As with Fennesz or Tim Hecker, his pieces have a song-like logic, but they're more like paintings than tunes, with independent layers blended into picturesque wholes.

Memory Theatre opens with "Chemical Theatre", an eight-minute stretch of oscillating tones that rub together like sheets of sandpaper. Rough and textured, it launches Memory Theatre into a stretch of heavy, tactile pieces. On "Oranur", groaning violins and a clacking beat (from William Sabiston, who provides percussion on five tracks) evoke Tony Conrad jamming with A Handful of Dust. Bauer's violin remains a primal weapon; here it sounds like a jagged saw, but elsewhere it evokes a violent storm, a choral hymn, and even a howling voice.

"Lake Garden" follows with bells and chimes mixed into an insistent storm, and that urgent vibe crests on "Kingdom of Ends", whose tribal rumbling slowly melts into elongated moans. These first four tracks together feel like a spooky outdoor séance, with each sound doing double duty as music and atmosphere.

Bauer shifts his tone with the middle track, "Anomalon". As glitchy, bubbling sounds replace previous tension with calm, the album launches into outer space with no intention of returning. The whirring wind of "Natura Naturans" recalls the "Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite" passage of Stanley Kubrick's 2001, while "Bions" uses morse-code-like beeps to suggest what Stars of the Lid might sound like to a Martian picking up transmissions across the galaxy.

Clearly, it's easy to go overboard with the ideas and images that Bauer's work inspires, but that's a testament to his wide sonic range. Memory Theatre may not be Axolotl's best album (last year's Way Blank is a bit sharper), but as a representation of all the pictures Bauer can paint, it's hard to imagine a more complete portfolio.