Superficially, Curd Duca's electronic mood music miniatures seem simple. In actuality, each is a painstakingly composed piece. Working with small-scale samples and micro-melodies, the Austrian electro-acoustic engineer crafts tracks that catch the ear momentarily then evaporate. Too evanescent for dissection, Duca's music becomes aural wallpaper by default. But the absorbing detail of each composition begs for a closer listen.
ELEVATOR whisks you through a suite of 27 lavishly decorated rooms, compressing the bachelor-pad excesses and swank designs of Les Baxter, Esquivel, and other electro-lounge innovators into a string of irresistible soundbites. Strings coo, beats thump, and retro synthesizers hum harmlessly for a minute or two, until you're dragged through the doorway and into the next chamber. Duca's interior decor ranges from kitsch to tastefully accented minimalism, with a scattering of bizarre props and fixtures that give each room its individual character. It's not all bars, ballrooms, and boudoirs, either, as ELEVATOR visits a number of spaces--"Waterphonics," "Swamp," "Off," "M&M," "Shark"--whose themes and functions are anyone's guess.