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Why do so few improvised recordings feature vocals? Here’s a theory.

Part of improv’s appeal is the vulnerability of the artists involved. On-stage or in-studio, it requires a degree of self-assuredness that few of us can muster. This is what’s so often misunderstood about improvisational performance. The absence of written music does not make it easy. It makes it difficult, sometimes frightening.

In this respect, a musician’s instrument is a kind of shield. And while there may be no great difference between an expressivo saxophone and vocal performance (it is all about breath after all), maybe that razor-thin distinction is indicative of just how intimidating it is to get up on a stage with nothing but imagination.

Portugal’s Diana Combo has delivered a spell-binding, richly textured album that pairs instrumental and vocal improvisations. Boa-Língua is her second under the name Síria. She also produces turntablist work as EOSIN and is a frequent collaborator with other artists.

“Boa-Língua was born and developed as a result of a subconscious will and energy, rather than a clear idea that was intended to be seen and heard,” writes Combo in the album’s notes. “During a season in the studio, the voice was given way to freely exist in a context of exercises of improvisation. … [I]t developed by itself, with me being an attentive vehicle, an open channel for the work to flourish. The sounds beyond the voice come from various sources: percussions were recorded by me in the studio, other sounds were collected from archives.”

The album features traditional chants and songs. Some of the latter are lyrical; including an Azerbaijani song and a pair or originals, one in Turkish and one in Portuguese. Some are simply improvisational vocals that do not feature lyrics.

The vocal recordings began as practice sessions, not intended for release. Listening to the album though, it’s not difficult to imagine Combo concluding she had something special here. There is an endearing vulnerability throughout. Her performance invites us into what sounds like a private place, without a hint of discomfiture.

The music surrounding her vocals is just as compelling. She incorporates multiple sound sources – field recordings, electronics and more – with a lovingly delicate touch. Kevin Press

via The Moderns

So wie einem die besten kreativen Gedanken oft beim Gehen oder in der Badewanne kommen, entstehen die Releases von Sängerin Diana Combo alias Síria meist als Nebenprodukte kleinerer Arbeiten, die ganz unerwartet ein Eigenleben erhalten. So wie sich ihr erstes Album aus einer Auftragsarbeit heraus verselbstständigt hatte, ist “Boa-Língua” das Resultat einer der Stimmübungen, die Combo regelmäßig aufnimmt, um die Resultate zu analysieren. Dabei greift sie oft auf bekannte Songs in ihrer portugiesischen Muttersprache zurück. Bei den letzten Sessions dieser Art sammelten sich eine Reihe von Songs an, die gerade wegen ihres provisorischen Charmes schon fast nach einem Coveralbum klangen. Dieses musste dann nur noch um die Gesangsspuren herum produziert werden und liegt nun vor.

Dass Combo theoretisch gefällige Singer Songwriter-Alben machen könnte, das vielleicht irgendwann auch mal zum Spaß machen wird, aber bis auf weiteres nicht will, weil sie das herausfordernde, immer noch sperrige in schönen Songs mag, merkt man auch hier wieder, und so hat gerade das leicht zusammengeschustert wirkende Konnex zwischen Gesang und Soundkulisse seinen besonderen Reiz. Im “Canção do Gato”, dem Katzenlied (für Hinweise zu den Originalen den unten eingebetteten Bandcamp-Link befragen), tritt ihre Stimme über mehrere Tonspuren in Dialog mit sich selbst, was auch a capella funktioniert hätte, doch die vorwärts und rückwärts eingespielten kratzenden und schabenden Loops sorgen für die betongraue Hintergrundfärbung, die den hellen Gesang umso deutlicher exponiert.

Die schwindelerregende Orchestralsounds von “Nos Montes” mit ihren aufgeklebten Trommelwirbeln wiederum lassen das ungekünstelte des Gesangs umso mehr durchscheinen, der sich zur düsteren Pauke des hörspielartigen “Danse Macabre” geradezu trunken gibt. Beim metallenen Klappern und Hämmern von “Belgian Shepherd” und “Yarin”, aber auch beim unbestimmten Rauschen und Knistern von “Senhora dos Remédios” kommt eine dezente Spannung zum Vorschein, der den bisweilen chorartigen Gesang wie aus einer verwunschenen Anderswelt herüberwehen lässt, so wie sich beides immer gegenseitig charakterisiert.

Combo sagt, dass sie das Studio gerne als Fluchtort vor dem allgegenwärtigen Sprachgewirr der sozialen Wirklichkeit aufsucht, als Ort, der keine Antworten verlangt. In ihren dort entwickelten Songs findet sich mehr von der Flucht als vom Ziel, was “Boa-Língua” spannend macht. Ich wäre aber auch gespannt zu wissen, wie ein geplantes Síria-Album klingen würde.

via African Paper

‘Boa-Lingua’ is the follow-up to ‘Cuspo’ (see Vital Weekly 1151). Siria is the work of Diana Combo and her main instrument is the voice, in combination with vinyl records, field recordings “and other sound sources”. The press release also mentions “Boa-Língua was made from recordings of practice sessions that were not originally intended to be used or worked as songs.

Boa-Língua means “good tongue”, used in opposition to “má-língua”, literally “bad tongue”, a Portuguese expression for “tittle-tattle”. Siria doesn’t use words per se, but more vocal exercises, which she then treats with studio technology, which I think in this case is to be understood as whatever happens in the laptop. The songs are, however, in some form originals from somewhere (“traditional songs and chants, a version of one Azerbaijani song, two originals (one in Turkish, one in Portuguese) and two original songs in which the voice does not take the form of words”), but whatever she does, it all became rather abstract and with some great result.

There is a fine interaction between her ‘natural’ voice, singing, humming, chanting and whatever else she does with these recordings. Sometimes I had the idea this was a sort of on the spot processing, but that might very well a wrong idea from me. There is very little conventional about all of this and yet it also sounds strangely familiar. There is a ritualistic aspect in the way the singing takes place but also in the addition of other sounds, such as the slow percussive thump in ‘For Ghédalia’. In the title piece, she sings and loops rather normally, stretching and sustaining via loops and such. It is between these ends that we find all of these pieces, a meeting of something traditional and something unconventional; something experimental and electronic if you will.

Despite all the newness of it all, this is also something ancient and mysterious, which is perhaps the oddest thing about. A delicate release! (FdW)

via Vital Weekly