Collaborations are another thing that is on Zuydervelt’s plate for many years; with Gareth Davies, Tim Catlin, Subterreanact, Anne Bakker, Chris Dooks and loads more (I thought for once not to mention the more famous ones). This was mostly as ‘Machinefabriek & …’ but maybe it’s wiser, if the other also doesn’t use a project name, to use the name Rutger Zuydervelt &, well Bruno Duplant in this case. After all the music I heard from Duplant, I still have very little idea what he does; that’s what I also noted when I reviewed his ‘Feu Danse’ release (Vital Weekly 1212′). Let’s say he is, just as Zuydervelt, a man who loves field recordings, electronics, instruments and processing. I assume this was done through an exchange of sound files for x-number of times, before arriving at the two twenty-some minute pieces here. Both pieces shamelessly show us, two men, who love their sounds, and whatever you can do to sculpt it into whatever you want. They elegantly move back and forth between high and low sounds, quiet and loud parts and clear field recordings and heavily obscured ones. The ego of either musician has disappeared from this and we have no longer an idea who does what here. And perhaps we don’t want to know either; it is not of great importance to see that Rutger did this, and Bruno was responsible for that, as what counts is the overall results, the interaction of them working together, and I am still assuming this was all done via long-distance exchange of files. I have no idea if there was a plan to follow a score, an idea, or if it was all just let’s toss a whole of sounds in the air and see what happens. I am hoping for the latter, as that’s how it sounds, free from concepts and let the flow go as it goes. That works very well here and it is almost enjoyable release. Seeing Zuydervelt have return visits with some of his previous collaborators, I hope that Duplant is among them. (FdW)
L’incertitude has spent life in two separate countries, but in spite of its long-distance discourse, it offers a natural, uninterrupted flow of sound. For Bruno Duplant and Rutger Zuydervelt, the collaborative process was smooth and intuitive – there were no lengthy discussions, and that has carved a creative outlet into the music, allowing it to be more expressive and loosened from the stresses and pressures of expectation.
The two tracks were fired through digital cables, streaming through to the other musician via European bandwidths and long distances. Although recorded remotely, L’incertitude is a connected, united album, and one with a strong bond. And because of mutual respect, the music is elevated, the distance appearing to be stronger than an album produced in one room, when everyone is together. It’s all about the artists gelling with one another. You can’t fake a musical bond; it’s either there or it isn’t. Mutual respect and appreciation makes all the difference, turning a collaboration into a special project.
Duplant is a composer, residing in Northern France, while Zuydervelt lives in Rotterdam. Perhaps the most important – essential, even – aspect of this collaboration, and what makes it a success, is the trust and friendship on display. Respect is a key element to the music, sticking like an adhesive to every sound, making it whole and complete. From emptiness, structures are built inside the music. Some of the swirling textures are minimal, at least to an extent, vibrating with a frisson of tension, but there’s a mass of emptiness within the music; like a huge sinkhole in the middle of the street.
From within, the music slowly revolves and gathers, constructing something from its inky depths, rising up with a dynamic burst. Scattered over its ground zero are murky field recordings which include a wailing baby and birdsong…but even these sounds are distant, coming from a portal or a gateway, instead of living in close proximity. Like a static-eaten police band picked up on an amplifier or a radio, it’s a secret bandwidth that has somehow crossed over, reaching with long fingers into the listener’s domain.
Spontaneous stabbing electronics are a feature of the second piece, which expands on its musical selection and seems bolder, more experimental. Multiple sounds were exchanged, but space has been preserved. There are rivulets for the listener to fall into, to interpret, and to become part of the creative process by way of their imagination, filling in the blanks, and the well-timed artefacts are fascinating to behold. James Catchpole
Le nouvel opus de Diana Combo alias Síria, prend racines dans des exercices vocaux dont l’intention de départ n’était pas d’en faire des morceaux, mais qui le sont devenus par la force des choses.
La volonté et l’inconscient font parfois faire des choses qui nous dépassent, il n’y a qu’à se laisser guider par ces forces intérieures qui nous entrainent vers des zones mystérieuses, dénuées de préméditation et de déterminisme.
Boa-Lingua ressemble à une oeuvre de comptines surgies de temps lointains, oubliés dans les profondeurs de nos histoires communes, chants voyageurs effaçant une partie de nos peurs pour les faire disparaitre dans des effluves de beauté éternelle.
Enrobée de percussions caressées, d’arrangements électroniques sensibles et de field recordings hantés, la voix de Síria se laisse porter par cet ensemble d’éléments énergétiques aux fluctuations hypnotiques, instants ancrés dans la pleine conscience et le dépouillement, l’essentialité et l’existentialisme, mantras oniriques habités d’histoire et d’humanité. Sublime. Roland Torres
Die Portugiesin Síria verwittert auf Boa-Língua (Crónica) ihre wunderschönen Gesangsstücke ebenfalls durch Rauschen und Feedback. Wo Craig noch hin und wieder ein Piano oder eine Akustikgitarre als harmonische Grundierung zulässt, vertraut Diana Combo fast ausschließlich der Kraft ihrer Stimme – und der Kraft der Nostalgie auf der Kippe in morbider Düsternis. Die eindeutige Melancholie der portugiesischen Volksmusik und die Klarheit der elektroakustischen Komposition sind hier suspendiert in jenseitige wie amorphe Stimmerfahrungen. Frank P. Eckert
Il secondo album della sperimentatrice portoghese Diana Combo (aka Síria / Eosin), amplia e sintetizza all’osso quanto di buono mostrato nel precedente “Cuspo” del 2018 (anche quello su Crónica e come questo, in limitata edizione su nastro, dunque, veloci…). Vinili manipolati, field recordings, metalli trattati, l’inaspettato, stralci di canzoni trovate/cantate, tutto in scultoreo fermo immagine da azione performativa (ovvia e prevista dalla Combo, data la sua esperienza nel sound design e nell’installazione). Avvolgenti sequenze di arcaico futuro/presente, a tratti raggelante, con le unghie conficcate nella memoria d’ognuno ad ogni latitudine. T’interessano le spine e l’estasi? Sei servito. T’interessa la sequenza sforzo del volo e libertà di ciò che poi segue? Sei servito. T’interessa (come negli oltre dieci minuti di Danse Macabre), esser torto e gettato nell’angolo con le ossa rotte? Sei servito. T’interessa la pietra, il ferro che sbatte, la canzone tradizionale d’ogni dove, il legno, lo spazio esterno e l’interno, voci d’altri prese/carezzate, lasciate sospese e poi gettate dove le parole si dimenticano delle parole? Sei servito. Resta un vinile che gira e una vertigine/frequenza (Ay Işiğinda), poi una voce che canta, poi le stelle. Marco Carcasi
Num momento singular na história moderna, as cidades esvaziaram-se de gente, o tráfego – aéreo, terrestre, marítimo – abrandou para níveis que não se registavam há décadas e, em consequência disso, entre variadíssimas recuperações ao nível ecológico, voltámos a ser confrontados com uma dimensão do silêncio há muito ausente dos grandes espaços urbanos. E este silêncio presente só torna mais real a névoa do ruído constante em que até recentemente vivíamos mergulhados nas grandes cidades. A100 é um estudo desse ruído, desse drone pulsante e constante, a partir de gravações de campo efectuadas na A100, estrada que rasga Berlim e que portanto tem com ela uma relação simbiótica através da sua massiva presença “física” e “política”: “ela gera um pulsar de vida citadina. Exerce uma influência sobre a identidade de Berlim enquanto símbolo de progresso, de auto-promoção e representação, enquanto é também um objecto de insulto, um elemento disruptivo e um espaço para arte”, referem as notas de lançamento. No seu terceiro registo para a portuguesa Crónica, a dupla TAMTAM – Sam Auinger (electrónica e gravações de campo) e Hannes Strobi (baixo eléctrico, contrabaixo e gravações de campo) –, com a ajuda daq voz de David Moss no tema “Standby”, apresenta um estudo sobre o ruído que a A100 injecta na consciência da cidade, usando as frequências geradas pelo tráfego, os ecos distantes de vozes, como fontes para uma manipulação que tende para abstracção. O álbum divide-se em quatro peças de diferentes fôlegos (4 minutos e 50 segundos para “Standby”, 10 minutos e meio para “Spectral”): arranca com uma peça de agreste ambientalismo gerado a partir de gravações de campo tratadas; prossegue com a peça em que David Moss adopta um tom quase William Burroughs para a sua discrição “spoken word” que sobrevoa uma peça algo “byrne-eno-esca”; mergulha-nos no centro da própria A100 num “espectral” campo harmónico de ruídos de tráfego e ecos de presença humana; e termina, enfim, com um cruzamento entre o músculo techno e as texturas oferecidas pela A100 aos microfones da dupla no tema “Pulse” que acaba por ser um quase-hino para uma megalópole que se tornou a nova meca da mais ritmicamente vincada música electrónica. Tendo em conta este presente esvaziado dessa identidade sónica, A100 assume uma dimensão quase hauntológica, revelando o assombramento de um pulsar civilizacional que foi interrompido por um vírus tão disruptivo para os seres humanos quanto aparentemente benigno para a restante natureza. Já será possível gravar o som do crescimento de plantas nas bermas da A100? Rui Miguel Abreu
Breekt het angstzweet u reeds uit wanneer u in deze tijd van lockdown denkt aan uw zomervakantie, die met de onzekerheid die er nog steeds heerst wel eens in het water zou kunnen vallen?
De kans is groot. Moest een annulatie echt aan de orde zijn dan is de wetenschap dat u in het experimentele veld van de field recordings tal van platen vindt waarmee u vanuit uw luie zetel denkbeeldig alle uithoeken van de wereld kan bezoeken in de meeste gevallen maar een schrale troost.
Misschien bent u van plan om Zuid-Afrika te bezoeken, trek dan alvast samen met Australiër Philip Samartzis en Fransman Eric La Casa op vooronderzoek.
Beide heren stelden in de periode tussen 18 en 28 maart 2018 hun opnameapparatuur op in het National Park Kruger, dat in de noordoostelijke hoek van Zuid-Afrika in twee gedeeld wordt door de Steenbokskeerkring. Het subtropische park dat grenst aan Zimbabwe en Mozambique is maar liefst ongeveer 360 kilometer lang en 65 kilometer breed en strekt zich uit over de provincies Limpopo en Mpumalanga. Afgezien van de overvloed aan dieren in het wild (de bekendste dieren zijn de zogenaamde ‘Big Five’ (de vijf diersoorten in Afrika die door jagers beschouwd werden als het moeilijks te schieten): leeuw, buffel, luipaard, neushoorn en de Afrikaanse olifant, daarnaast zijn er ook nog vele andere zoals de giraffe, nijlpaard, koedoe, impala, wilde hond, zebra, jachtluipaard, hyena, krokodillen, bavianen en zeldzame vogelsoorten zoals de zuidelijke hoornraaf, bevat het landschap diverse vegetatie, waaronder rood- en buffelgras, mopane-struikgewas en een groot aantal acacia-, baobab- en marula bomen. Verschillende rivieren lopen door het park, waaronder de Crocodile, Letaba, Limpopo, Luvuvhu, Olifants en Sabie.
Verspreid over de uitgestrekte wildernis zijn er verschillende kampen waar je kan overnachten, souvenirwinkels, restaurants en verschillende uitkijkposten om de flora en fauna te bekijken.
Deze stereoversie van Captured Space is afgeleid van een meerkanaals geluidsinstallatie die twee parallelle omgevingen verkent -de natuurlijke en geconstrueerde. Hoewel de natuurlijke wereld van Kruger wild en woest is, is de geconstrueerde wereld van wegen, nederzettingen en voetgangers ontworpen om bezoekers comfortabel en veilig te houden voor de dagelijkse strijd van leven en dood die er plaatsvindt. Tijdens deze safari kan je vanuit het oogpunt van een auto getuige zijn van een opmerkelijke habitat met een bekende reeks personages. Maar hoe ver of breed je ook reist, je kan niet gemakkelijk ontsnappen aan de ruimtelijke beperkingen van de auto zelf of het het elektrische hoogspanningshek dat het toeristenoord omringt. Terwijl Afrikaanse dieren de steunpilaar zijn van dierentuinen over de hele wereld zijn ze bij Kruger de waakzame bewaarders van een exotische mix van mensen die tot de kleinste ruimtes zijn beperkt voor hun eigen zelfbehoud.
De geluiden van Captured Space werden gedurende tien dagen geregistreerd terwijl beide artietsten op een ontspannen manier door het park trokken op zoek naar opnamemogelijkheden. Wat ze niet hadden verwacht was hoe beperkt hun bewegingen zouden worden als gevolg van de strenge regels die het park reguleren. Het werd al snel duidelijk dat dit opnameproject evenzeer zou gaan over de plaatsen waar ze waren opgesloten, als over de ecologie die ze wilden registreren. Daarom werden al de opnames gemaakt vanuit een voertuig, op bruggen en in schuilplaatsen en behuizingen waar ze ‘s nachts verbleven. Vanuit deze gezichtspunten leek het geluid telkens van ergens anders te komen dan van waar ze zich bevonden. Altijd van op een afstand, aan het oog onttrokken en frustrerend ongrijpbaar. Captured Space biedt een caleidoscopische ervaring van de Zuid-Afrikaanse wildernis, uitsluitend via de infrastructuur die wordt gebruikt om de toegang te vergemakkelijken tot een wereld die wordt bewoond door vreemde en bedreigende wezens. Een spectrale wereld waar de soundscape bijtend is, de dagen stralend en de nachten duister.
Het geeft u meteen een beeld wat uw oren van een bezoek aan dit park kunnen verwachten. Door de levendige geluiden kost het ook niet veel moeite om de bijhorende beelden er bij te fantaseren. Een stukje Zuid-Afrika dus in uw woonkamer, daarmee zal u het zolang deze quarantaine blijft aanslepen moeten doen… Of tenzij u liefhebber bent van dit soort auditieve atlassen. Dimi Brands
The A100 is not just an infrastructural system occupying expanses of urban space, it is also a city-building force with massive physical, media and political presence. It generates a pulse of city life. It exerts influence over Berlin’s identity as a symbol of progress, of self-promotion and representation, while also being a reviled object, a disruptive element, and an art space.
City is sound, composed from myriad voices of everyday life. All of our listening space is dominated by the ubiquitous sound emissions of motorized traffic, which also mask numerous other sound events. Engine and vehicle sounds, paced and regulated by routings and traffic lights, resonate in an architectural space which amplifies, filters, and cuts them. This leads to an environment sonically annexed and coloured. A condition that we mostly leave unchallenged, take as given, and block from our awareness. At best, we comprehend it as a noise to be avoided, without further reflecting on the causal relationships with behaviors that engender it.
For over ten years, TAMTAM (Sam Auinger & Hannes Strobl) have pursued artistic research into urban living spaces. TAMTAM’s main concern is sonic experience of the city, along with the cultural development of particular places. The last two years they have explored the A100 Berlin city highway and its immediate environment through focused investigations, recording selected locations in audio and image. Their main interest was its various spatial and temporal qualities, its rhythm, and how it sonically organizes, emotionalises and influences surrounding space.
Tracklist:
Flow (07:58)
Standby (04:50)
Spectral (10:30)
Pulse (05:28)
Sam Auinger: Electronic, Field Recording Hannes Strobl: Electric Bass, Electric Upright Bass, Field Recording David Moss: Lyrics and Voice on Standby
A100 is available as a free download and stream from Crónica.
“Síria was born out of the super power we have of transforming shit into magic and writing songs is a way to expand the palette of ideas, feelings and emotions, some of which I prefer not to express outside the music / artistic context.”
