Mabe Fratti was a fan first. In a 2024 feature with The Quietus, the Guatemalan cellist expressed her admiration for Bill Orcutt’s self-titled 2017 album. “His style of playing is aggressive but he has tone, he makes melodies, he likes notes. But he also brings a bit of scratching to it,” Fratti said of the experimental guitarist’s work. Orcutt eventually discovered the interview and reached out to Fratti to propose a collaboration, having already heard of her through his longtime associate, drummer Chris Corsano. Over the course of a year, the two exchanged files and ideas between Fratti’s home in Mexico City and Orcutt’s base in San Francisco.
The result is Almost Waking, a suite of eight texturally rich tracks that unite two singular artists with shared compositional affinities. All of the songs stem from freeform guitar improvisations that Orcutt sent to Fratti, who worked alongside her Titanic bandmate and partner, Héctor Tosta, to embellish the recordings with cello and occasional vocals. Fratti and Tosta listened to Orcutt’s submissions to excavate the “harmonic possibilities” within, letting those interpretations guide her melodies.
A Study in Intuitive Collaboration
The album’s opening diptych, the title track and “El inicio es cuestión de suerte,” establishes the record’s sonic landscape. On the former, Orcutt’s prickly guitar announces itself immediately, joined shortly by Fratti’s legato bowing. The sharpness softens when Fratti briefly leaves the mix, allowing Orcutt’s six-string to dot the space like stars. Though the pair never recorded in the same room, they sound as if they are actively responding to one another, rising and falling in tandem.
“El inicio es cuestión de suerte” introduces Fratti’s hypnotizing vocals, marking one of the few moments where she utilizes her voice. Here, the roles reverse: Orcutt resigns himself to a supporting role, supplying a guitar ostinato that curls around Fratti’s double-tracked vocals like smoke. The production gives Fratti’s voice a dual identity, sounding both intimate and resonant.
Submitting to the Process
“Forced & Forced & Forced” is a testament to the duo’s commitment to intuition. Over a guitar line that morphs over four minutes, Fratti drives her cello into the red, delivering one of the record’s most frenzied performances. It culminates in an outro where Orcutt drops out entirely, leaving Fratti to attack her instrument with such ferocity that the strings seem to fray in real time.
Conversely, “Arise from Graves and Aspire” acts as the preceding track’s inverse. Fratti’s cello colors the mix with smooth padding, while Orcutt’s spiky guitars tower over the stereo field like peaks in a jagged mountain range. The symbiosis reaches a zenith on the penultimate track, “Todo puede ser error.” In C major, the composition assumes a tone of resolve and optimism that counters the pessimism rooted in the lyrics. Fratti sings the song’s title—roughly translating to “everything could be a mistake”—but the words contradict the music surrounding them. Nothing here sounds like an accident.
