HANNES STROBL, bekannt durch Tamtam (mit Sam Auinger) oder P.O.P. (mit Reinhold Friedl, Nora Krahl & Elena Kakaliagou), den interessiert bei Transformation Sonor (215, digital) der gleitende Übergang zwischen musikalischen Situationen. Mikrotöne und langsame Glissandi, die er mit electric upright bass und Elena Kakaliagou mit Waldhorn intonieren. Klassischer Dröhnminimalismus also in Niblock-, Tenney-, Radigue-Gefilden. Summ ergo sum. Sound, sound, sound, Sound is all you need. Phantastisch, wie Kakaliagou mit all ihrem Zinc&Copper-Knowhow ihre dunkle Klangwolke triften lässt. [BA 125 rbd]
JOS SMOLDERS präsentiert mit Textuur 3 [Register] (214, digital) & Textuur 2 [IIII – – – -] (216) seine von Pierre Schaeffer und von ‘Yucatan’, einem Gedicht des Minimalisten Carl Andre (1935-2024), angestoßene Untersuchung des Übergangs von Objets Sonore in Objets Musicale, im Hinblick auf deren vollständigen Abstraktion, frei von allen physikalischen und psychologischen Anhaftungen. Während Andre eingeschnappt war über das als Kompliment gemeinte ‘konkret’ für sein Poem, fand Smolders in ‘Weben’ eine Metapher für seine ‘Permutationen’ der Computerstimme in einem Whole Foods-Supermarkts als Basismaterial für 3. Textuur 2 besteht aus rhythmischen Teilen sowie einfachen Sinuswellen-Drones und untersucht Drone für Drone und Break für Break die Extermination von IDM in elektroakustischer Abstraktion. So wie er bei 3 das Ohrenmerk lenkt auf die Degradierung von Menschen zu Kunden und von Kunden zu Register 1, 2, 3…, die nach der Pfeife eines Automaten tanzen. Ob die stottrige Verhackstückung und Modulation des Konkreten zu Sirr- und Wummerwellen, zu Tierlauten oder Meeresrauschen, allerdings dem Siegeszug der Automaten und Idioten… – gibt es eigentlich noch Lemminge? [BA 125 rbd]
Mit Installations: (Re)Verso/Flexo (213) führen Pedro Tudela & Miguel Carvalhais, kurz @C, in ein Esszimmer des 15. Jh. im Museum von Aveiro, vormals ein dominikanisches Frauenkloster, in das sich Infanta Dona Joana, die Tochter des portugiesischen Königs Dom Afonso V., zurückgezogen hatte. Dass klösterliche Leibspeisung einst sublimiert wurde mit der seelischen Erbauung durch das Lesen frommer Texte, hallt in der dröhnenden Annäherung an den Spiritus loci nach im Flüstern von Zahlen, inspiriert durch eingekerbte Platzziffern und die Nummern von Bibelversen. [BA 125 rbd]
Mit „Drinking the Acheron River at Its Source“ (204, digital) ist PHILIPPE PETIT letztes Jahr, seinem 40. als Klangkunstaktivist, bereits auf den Spuren von Dante und Vergil eingetaucht in den Sog, gemischt aus Desire und Poison, der in A Divine Comedy (Crónica 212, 2xCD) in die Unterwelt zieht. Mit „For whom the bell tolls“ und „The dice are thrown“ in die mit Gustave Doré imaginierten ‘Corridors of Hell’, mit Dantes Zeilen aus Computermündern abwärts im Trichter, den Luzifers Sturz bis zum Erdmittelpunkt schlug. Petit durchkreist in 6 Szenen das ‘Inferno’ quasi per aspera – gequälten Schreien, kakophonen Impulsen, perkussiv klopfender, harfender Insistenz, kleinlauter Hoffnungslosigkeit – ad astra. Denn an Satans zottigem Fell entlang erreichen sie wieder das Sternenlicht, wo Dante nach dem Aufstieg auf den sieben Terrassen des ‘Purgatorio’, frei von allen Todsünden, belohnt wird mit der Vision der neun himmlischen Sphären (‘Paradiso’). Der ‘Läuterungsberg’ wird in 3 elektroakustisch knarrenden, jaulenden, dröhnenden, flötenden ‘Cantos’ und eisernen Traktaten ‘besungen’, das Paradies mit 2 präadamitischen Klangbildern mit Vibes, zarten Hornstößen, glockigem, vogeligem Bimbam, wobei die düstere Vorahnung eines Mahlwerks ein Piano melancholisch verstimmt. [BA 125 rbd]
Tytuł Clould łączy w sobie słowa “cloud” (chmura), wskazując na fascynację ludzkości rzekomymi nadprzyrodzonymi istotami, które żyły w chmurach lub je tworzyły, oraz “could” („mogłoby”). Historyczne mitologie zostały umieszczone w kontekście XXI wiecznego masowego transportu powietrznego, który napędza duże grupy ludzi – pasywnych siłą – przez przestrzeń, która kiedyś należała do mitologicznych istot i energii. I oczywiście do chmur. Cykl utworów elektroakustycznych Clould i jego preambuła Aiear (Crónica 218~2024) składają się łącznie z 95 minut muzyki, pięciu mikroopowiadań, libretta do piątej części, szeregu zdjęć lotniczych i wykresów tekstowych oraz koncepcji wykonania obejmującej pierwsze trzy części. Niniejsza płyta CD zawiera kompletne pięć części Clould.
Clould składa się z dźwięków z wnętrza samolotów i lotnisk nagranych na różne sposoby: z bagażu rejestrowanego, za pomocą czujników elektromagnetycznych, z pokładowego systemu rozrywki lub po prostu za pomocą zwykłych mikrofonów. Nagrania głosów z komunikatów pokładowych zostały przetworzone w trybie kroku pielgrzymiego, co oznacza, że zostały wielokrotnie rozciągnięte i skompresowane z nieznacznie zmieniającymi się ustawieniami, aż do pojawienia się maszynowych chimer – ostatecznego bezcielesnego głosu. W końcowej „Piątej części” głosy zostały zebrane z demonstracji bezpieczeństwa i innych ogłoszeń w różnych językach, niektóre już intonowane mechanicznie nawet przez ludzkich lektorów. Fragmentując takie nagrania na pojedyncze sylaby i rekompilując je w nowe, czasem niezrozumiałe, fantazyjne sekwencje różnych połączonych i zaaranżowanych głosów, można usłyszeć fantomowe słowa i zdania. Ponieważ cykl Clould opiera się na rozumieniu języka angielskiego, zarówno w towarzyszących mu mikroopowiadaniach, jak i w samych utworach muzycznych, transkrypcja w stylu libretta ujawnia angielskie słowa i onomatopeiczne wykrzykniki. Ten dedykowany system bardzo luźno nawiązuje do koncepcji bījamantry (lub bījākṣara: sylaba nasienna) używanej w hinduizmie tantrycznym i buddyjskim mistycyzmie, w którym pewne sylaby zawierają esencje dźwiękowe, które manifestują określony element, byt lub bóstwo. Na przykład najważniejsza bīja “oṃ” jest kwintesencją i manifestacją wszechświata – bardziej duchowym niż akustycznym dźwiękiem. W systemie siedmiu czakr jest to również sylaba nasienna związana z czakrą korony (centrum psychiczne).
After the recent release of Aiear, we’re now immensely happy to present the second and final part of the Clould cycle, in a limited-release CD with a 16-page booklet.
The title Clould convolutes the words cloud, hinting at humankind’s fascination of supposed supernatural beings that lived in clouds or created them, and could, a potentiality. Historical mythologies are placed in the context of 21st century airborne mass transport that propels large groups of human beings — passive by force — through a space that once belonged to mythological beings and energies. And to the clouds, of course. The Clould cycle of electroacoustic music pieces and its preamble Aiear together consist of 95 minutes of music, five microstories, the libretto for its fifth movement, a number of aerial photographs and text charts, and a performance concept including the first three movements. This CD features the complete five movements of Clould, composed between 2011 and 2023.
Clould is composed with sounds from inside airplanes and airports recorded in various ways: from the check-in luggage, with electromagnetic sensors, from the onboard entertainment system, or just straight with normal mics. Voice recordings from in-flight announcements have been processed until machinic chimeras appear — the ultimate disembodied voice. By fragmenting such recordings down into individual syllables and recompiling them into new, sometimes unintelligible fantasy sequences of various interconnected and orchestrated voices, phantom words and sentences can be heard. As the Clould cycle is based on an English language understanding, a libretto-style transcription of the final 5th Movement reveals English words and onomatopoetic exclamations. This dedicated system very loosely refers to the concept of bījamantra (or bījākṣara: seed syllable) used in Tantric Hinduism and Buddhist Mysticism, in which certain syllables, like “oṃ” for example, contain sonic essences that make manifestations of a certain element, entity, or deity.
Clould is now available as a CD, download or stream.
Marc Behrens was more active with releases a long time ago, the first decade of this century and the last half of the decade before that, but these days may have shifted his work into sound installations – who knows? Maybe he releases his music online mostly. There is a ‘preamble’ release for ‘Clould’, called ‘Aiear’, also for Cronica Electronica and both deal with “airborne mass transport that propels large groups of human beings – passive by force – through a space that once belonged to mythological beings and energies”. Behrens made recordings inside aeroplanes, from the in-flight announcements, check-in luggage, electromagnetic sensors and whatever else you can catch soundwise on the 24-hour-a-day entertainment centres that are airports and aeroplanes. To be honest, I (BW) have checked my collection, and all I can find from Marc is two tracks on samplers, and that’s it. So, everything I’m hearing is a first for me. And even though I’m always looking for concepts behind releases – and lots of people thankfully send them when they send us their stuff – this is an example of an idea where I can only place the concept on sound creation of composing techniques. I can’t really place this album in the perspective of what the album is about. According to the notes, “as the Clould cycle is based on an English language understanding, a libretto-style transcription of the final 5th Movement reveals English words and onomatopoetic exclamations. This dedicated system very loosely refers to the concept of b?jamantra (or b?j?ks . ara: seed syllable) used in Tantric Hinduism and Buddhist Mysticism, in which certain syllables, like “om .” for example, contain sonic essences that make manifestations of a certain element, entity, or deity.” But then there is the actual product: a CD with 74 minutes of pure sonic poetry. Five movements – two about six minutes, two about 12 minutes and a long 37-minute final movement – create a lovely atmosphere of faded voices, building drones, and slight noisescapes… But most of all, this CD hits surrealistically. And in that perspective I give you men’s dream of flying. Stories of Icarus, who flew towards the sun when the wax melted through the heat, and he lost his wings. As well as the flying machines of the Middle Ages, men probably dreamt about flying ever since a cave dweller saw an ancient bird and thought about catching and eating it. And it only took so many thousands of years and now we can whenever we want, depending on whether we have the money to pay for it. If you would have told that to a cave dweller … That’s the surrealism I’m talking about. (BW/FdW)
Miguel A. García and Àlex Reviriego have long careers in experimental music, free improvisation, electronics and the most risky metal. In recent years they have collaborated in various projects with other musicians, but this album is their first project as a duo. García and Reviriego act as guides, like Stalkers, on a sonic journey divided into four seasons.
If on other occasions their sounds have been impregnated with those dark Lovecraftian worlds so dear to both of them, on this album the music seems imbued with metaphysical science fiction. The sounds come from infinite spaces pregnant with fundamental philosophical questions.
The first two tracks refer to Solaris, Andrei Tarkovsky’s film; to that distant and immense ocean that transforms itself; a transcendental entity superior to the human. Machines evolving into animal beings, creating their own rhythms and their own mating codes.
The third theme transports me to 2001 — A Space Odyssey, it is a pinnacle of gliding electronics impregnated with the best Ligeti, impeccably structured. A joy of balance and restrained tension and at the same time it has an essence linked to the terrestrial rhythm, the dawn, the origin.
And we end with the final question: the questions that surpass our intelligence, the unknown. The last theme is the dizzying uncertainty, the sea, again the thinking and immeasurable ocean in which the ship disappears, vanishes, lost and searching, always searching.
Can we say that nature is aggressive? That the cosmos is cruel or capricious? The control of the flow of sound is the alchemy of music.
Ulzion
This is a sad record. Of a cold and clean sadness. Sounds of the past heralding an unmitigated disaster.
When I started to work on it by myself, I was trying to avoid the somehow melancholic and postromantic tone of my recent releases and develop a more impersonal and empty language. More ancient.
I always thought of feedback as one of the definitive instruments, absolutely perfect in its clarity and simplicity. Like the harp, the clarinet or the female voice, I could listen for hours to a few no-input mixer tones and never get bored. Far from an issue, the lack of the human gestural component enhances the icy and imperturbable character of its electrical nature.
I met Miguel A. García at the parking lot of the old Artiach cookie factory, just a few minutes before of the Phicus soundcheck at Zarata Fest. I liked his slightly harsh and sullen attitude from the first minute. Every time of the many we’ve seen each other since, being as a part of an ensemble playing one of his compositions, performing at one of his festivals or simply talking, the impression of being in front of a unique and relentless artist just got reaffirmed.
Without a doubt, Miguel is one of the best listeners I ever met and an ideal collaborator. Listening to the record now, time after its completion, it’s hard for me to tell apart the contributions of each other. I recognise “my” sounds entangled in processes I recognise as totally his own, and at many times I had to go back to my drafts to see if certain developments were already there or if Miguel, with virtuosic ear, unearthed them from among my raw materials.
But I alone am dull and stupid. Oh, I drift like the waves of the sea, Without direction, like the restless wind (Lao Zi)
When I sometimes write that people like Bruno Duplant (or Celer or Machinefabriek) appear almost every week in Vital Weekly, I am doing this in a loving and joking way. I like their music, and there’s an abundance out there, so what’s not to enjoy? I say this fully, realising I’m not the one buying all this work. My ‘difficulty’ is finding different approaches to writing about their music. That’s not to say their work is the same all the time, even when the devil is in the details. Duplant’s work, so he claims, is intended to be narrative and fictional, in the same way he approaches his photography, often used as covers on his releases. Other keywords are ‘phantasmagorical’, ‘ancestral’ and ‘secret universe’, or ‘how to make the music a bit mysterious’. He uses organ, double bass, percussion, electronics and field recordings. In some way, I am unsure how (analogue treatment? digital? combination of both?), and he finds a minor different approach every time. In listening to the ghosts, as the translation of his new CD could read, I think Duplant chooses a more fragmented approach to his sounds. They appear like ghosts in the wind and mist, popping out of the shadows and disappearing simultaneously. It’s tough to recognise any of the instruments, not because they have been cut to short length, but because they have been rendered and processed in such a way that they don’t sound like a double bass or organ or percussion; they are residue’s of that, ghostly appearances, if you will. Significantly, when suddenly, voices drop in. As with many of his releases, there are two pieces, almost 23 minutes each (intended for a cassette release? I am guessing here), and both are similar approaches in composition and processing techniques. It’s an album in two parts rather than two pieces. In a way, it’s all very electronic music, ando dipping into the world of modern composition, but with that additional weirdness. It’s another excellent album! (FdW)
