Un po’ troppo estremo questo terzo lavoro di Frans de Waard, elettroacustica allo stato ‘quasi-puro’ creata manipolando le registrazioni fatte alla piccola figlia Elise, intenta a giocare con oggetti metallici, carta, bacchette e altri ‘soprammobili’ vari… in definitiva un noiosissimo album di elettronica ‘pseudo-colta’ fatto perlopiù di ‘sfrigolii’ e battimenti. Spero non me ne voglia Freiband! Trovo che album come questo siano assolutamente inutili se non in un contesto di performance audio-visive dove almeno l’occhio ha la sua parte. Potrebbe essere interessante vedere come opera in un contesto live, giusto per avere un’idea dei procedimenti e delle tecnologie usate che sono senz’altro più interessanti del suono proposto.
“Leise†reviewed by bodyspace.net
Quando a Crónica parecia prestes a garantir uma escuta estável e sedativa, a partir de um disco criado com base num contexto terno e familiar, eis que Leise veda abruptamente o estabelecimento de qualquer empatia imediata entre a presença electro-acústica de Freiband (projecto excepcional do holandês Frank de Waard) e de quem o escuta. Além de representar o seu terceiro disco, Freiband é também um conceito mutável em performances ao vivo e em sessões várias (inclusive uma cedida à recomendável rádio VPRO de Amsterdão). Assim sendo, Freiband respeita essencialmente à flexibilidade que podem assumir, no processamento em laptop, os sons captados à filha de três anos, Elise de Waard (note-se o anagrama do tÃtulo), que teve à sua disposição instrumentos musicais e não-musicais normalmente associados ao trabalho do mentor paternal no projecto Kapotte Muziek: pedaços de metal, papel, paus, plásticos e outra tralha. Fica-se pelo contexto e associação geracional o que de mais fácil se possa descobrir por aqui, pois Leise representa indubitavelmente das mais desafiantes escutas com o selo Crónica. São de digestão demorada os crÃpticos desafios a que Freiband dá forma com crepitantes detritos digitais, elementos electro-acústicos e inconstantes vagas mecanizadas em loop. Alguns exercÃcios relembram o vácuo em efervescência da no-input board de Toshimaru Nakamura, outro – “Daisee†– estabelece um paralelismo anómalo entre um contÃnuo horizonte ambient e uma insignificante ameba de digitália que não chega a abandonar o seu ponto de partida.
Miguel Arsénio
“Hidden Name†reviewed by Signal to Noise
German Stephan Mathieu may work with computers and instruments while Englishman Janek Schaefer uses turntables and field recordings, but the two men hold common values that no doubt contributed to the seamless quality of this collaboration. Each man shows a respect and appreciation for the sound sources they transform, and each has crafted music whose tonal appeal and atmospheric quality has invited the term ambient. But remember, according to Eno’s original definition, ambient music must be as interesting as it is ignorable.
The sessions that yielded Hidden Name took place in composer John Tavener’s farmhouse and use its contents and surroundings as both inspiration and instrumentation. Opening track ‘White Wings / Child Okeford’ blends processed church chimes, sustained organ chords, and the distant roar of air traffic into an imperceptibly changing ribbon of sound; on ‘Belle Etoile’ a rainstorm overtakes an idle piano melody. Schaefer’s peculiar brand of turntablism comes to the fore on ‘Quartet for Flute, Piano and Cello,’ which sounds like it was assembled from brief needle-drops on old classical records and compares favorably with Philip Jeck’s crackle-encrusted memorials, and ‘Maori Love Songs,’ which singles out some lovely vocal passages, then ties them in an elegant little knot. Sustained sounds drift and morph at a sunrise pace on the title piece and ‘The Planets,’ the blissful 19 minute-long album closer. They’re gorgeous, but if you’re looking for ambient music they must be counted as honorable failures; while they amply reward close listening, they refuse to be ignored.
Bill Meyer
“Leise†reviewed by Octopus
Difficile quand on est un musicien électro-acoustique, qu’on traîne en permanence dans un environnement de feuilles de métal polies(ou dépolies), de bouts de bois, de papier, de plastique, à guetter l’interaction sonore impromptue qui dériverait de l’expérience, difficile donc de ne pas susciter la curiosité de sa petite fille de 5 ans, irrémédiablement tentée par les jeux de manipulation qui s’offrent si facilement à elle. Franz de Waard, mentor du label Staalplaat et défricheur de matières au sein du projet Kapotte Muziek, s’est donc trouvé bien étonné quand sa petite Elise lui a fait part de son désir de « pratiquer » à son tour. Qu’à cela ne tienne, l’expérience de sa fille en nourrira bien une autre. C’est ainsi que démarre l’aventure Leise (« tranquille » en allemand, mais également un anagramme du prénom Elise), troisième floraison de Freiband, sans doute l’incarnation la plus personnelle – émotionnelle en tout cas – des projets musicaux du musicien hollandais (il ne faudrait en effet pas oublier les plus électroniques Goem et Beequeen).
Une fois enregistrées, les frasques sonores de la petite Elise ont été progressivement retravaillées à l’occasion de performances live qui ont vu l’ordinateur ordonner et structurer la matière en jouant de l’articulation des sons bruts de sa fille et de l’agencement feutré caractéristique du son « laptop ». Entre frémissement et fragmentation, un nouveau paysage se met donc en place, fragile et envoûtant, à l’image des ondulations organiques qui animent subrepticement “Rammel”. Quand l’introspection musicale renvoie à la plénitude familiale, on se dit qu’après tout la musicologie vaut bien la pédiatrie.
Laurent Catala
“Leise†reviewed by textura.org
The seeming incongruity between the child-like drawings adorning Leise and its abstract contents is reconciled when one learns that all of the release’s raw sound material was produced by Frans de Waard’s daughter Elise (her name an anagram of the recording title) when she was three years old. “Knippers†initiates the disc, de Waard’s third Freiband full-length, with high-pitched squeals that might just as easily have originated from Elise’s cats as from the metal sheets, paper, sticks, and plastic her father uses for Kapotte Muziek.
After recording the sounds in Boston in 2003, de Waard transformed the recordings via computer processing, obscuring the original sounds’ identities without losing their warmth in the process (though faint hints do surface every now and then, like the morphing pulses in “Paarden†that suggest hammering and the rattle sounds one hears during “Rammelâ€; the album even closes with a few seconds of Elise’s untreated vocalizing). Tracks bleed into another like a gently flowing river of electro-acoustic minutiae: “Bij†stretches sound into a glacial crawl, the firefly clicks of “Vuur†are so lulling they could induce sleepiness, “Daisee†gently sways like a drifting vessel, and, though its title suggests otherwise, “Storm†is never more than a microsound tempest. Freiband’s ‘personal’ approach brings a humanizing dimension to a musical style that can often be somewhat clinical and severe.
Having issued joint projects with Ekkehard Ehlers (Heroin) and Douglas Benford (Reciprocess +/vs. vol. 2), Stephan Mathieu is no stranger when it comes to collaborative undertakings. That textural sound sculptor Janek Schaefer is an equally natural partner for Mathieu is indubitably borne out by the quietly magnificent Hidden Name. Having met in Montreal at MUTEK 2002, the two convened a year later to spend a week at Maryanna and John Tavener’s home, specifically Manor Farm House located in Child Okeford in the South of England. Drawing from a wealth of sounds produced from instruments (piano, clarinet, cello, flute, trumpet, accordion, sitar, singing bowls, bells, voices), records, and on-site field recordings, the two recorded material which they then reconfigured at the York Music Research Center during the winter of 2005 into the 11 settings on Hidden Name.
Like Leise, originating sounds are sometimes rendered unidentifiable but, unlike the Freiband disc, Hidden Name’s settings are full-bodied and dense with detail. Often swathed in layers of surface noise, the myriad sound sources coalesce into gently flowing washes of vinyl crackle and hypnotic ripples pierced by bells, tones, and pizzicato strings. One of the album’s most distinguishing features is the contrast that emerges from one piece to the next: “Cosmos†resembles an aviary tour, with the sounds of pigeons cooing, birds chirping, crows cawing, and roosters calling dominating; “Quartet For Flute, Piano And Cello†suggests an ancient vinyl recording discovered in an attic, dusted off, and played on an equally archaic turntable; and the entrancing weave of female voices in “Maori Love Song†recalls Akira Rabelais’s mesmerizing Spellewauerynsherde. Equally uncharacteristic, all of the album’s pieces are generally short (two to seven minutes) except for the closer, a 20-minute dreamscape entitled “The Planets.†Though the resultant recording camouflages the differences in the artists’ individual working methodologies, Hidden Name also unites their strengths into a single set. In this particular case, the pastoral setting clearly worked some powerful magic.
“Leise†reviewed by Bad Alchemy
Hinter FREIBANDs Leise (Crónica 026) vermutet man erst mal einen weiteren Segeltörn über den Stillen Ozean of Sound. Aber der Titel entpuppt sich als Anagramm von Elise, Frans de Waards Töchterchen. Der Künstler-Vater begegnet, ähnlich wie die in gleicher Lage befindlichen RLW, Rafael Toral oder Ekkehard Ehlers, der mütterlichen Alternative ’Kapotte Muziek oder kaputte Beziehung. Kümmer dich gefälligst auch um deine Tochter’ denkbar lässig. Wir machen zusammen Musik, da geht euch der Hut hoch. Elise, damals 3 Jahre alt, spielt (mit a wide variety of musical and non-musical objects: sheets of metal, paper, sticks and other junk), und Vadder spielt mit (with contact microphones, processing etc.). Zu Belohnung darf er dann wieder los ziehen, sogar nach Boston, Reykjavik oder nach Setúbal, wo Frans die Produkte seines & Elisens Spieltrieb den Knispel-Aficionados als sedimentierte Lebenskunst unterjubelt. Die Soundwelt als Sandkasten, die Sublimation von Milch und Brei und Windeldüften, von Patschhändchen und Polypenärmchen und zentnerschweren Gefühlsbindungen in fein gesiebte Luft. Quietscht bei ’Knippers’ noch ein Gummientchen, summt es in der Folge gewohnt abstrakt, d.h. konkret. Elise wurde dafür zum dröhn-, bei ’Paarden’ auch pulsminimalistischen Geist, der die summenden und bitzelnden Freiband-Schwingungen und knarzigen Loops dämpft und sie kuschelweich und sanft macht. Doch hatte Frans de Waard, auch ohne Software und Elise, nicht schon längst eine Ader für Milch & Honig?
“Hidden Name†reviewed by Bodyspace
Por motivações supostamente históricas, não surpreende que tenha sido o cinema norte-americano a instituir a Ocidente a noção de que um fantasma tem de equivaler forçosamente a uma presença maligna – sempre pronta a atormentar criancinhas e a demover residentes de se mudarem para um casebre sustentado por pregos enferrujados. Em contraponto a essa simplificação, o cinema oriundo do Japão diferencia-se pela variedade de qualidades atribuÃdas aos seus fantasmas – não existe polarização que os impeça de serem benignos, entranhados num terreno ou apenas dedicados a uma vigilância passiva. A partir de uma localização Europeia neutra, os magos Stephan Mathieu e Janek Schaefer desenvolveram um método absolutamente plausÃvel de enclausurar num disco o que se ressente à presença de um fantasma criativo, que, neste caso, sobreviveu à presença em vida de um compositor clássico numa quinta situada no sul de Inglaterra. Ocuparam-se os dois de resgatar ao pó de um sótão instrumentos como o clarinete, flauta, piano e trompete (quase sempre, indistinguÃveis ao ouvido), somar os sons captados a partir desses e field recordings extraÃdos a toda a área, e, em processo laboratorial de estúdio, aproveitar para a substanciação do fluxo o que de mais essencial representasse uma presença carismática e espiritualmente densa na dita propriedade.
Dito assim, quase parece Hidden Name um disco esotérico para servir ao transcendentalismo moderno a que almejam todos os produtos tendenciosamente new age ou aqueles promovidos pela Maya em serviços publicitários mais obscuros. Nada mais errado. Hidden Name aborda essencialmente o processo de privação que pode eventualmente sofrer um lugar, que comporta as suas próprias mudanças e historial. Fá-lo ponderadamente a partir do reaproveitamento de um espaço, que em tempos conheceu avidamente música clássica e que agora proporciona a acústica certa à suspensão demorada das caudas sónicas – entretanto tornadas imperturbavelmente horizontais – obtidas a partir da execução dos referidos instrumentos, que, pontualmente, vêem o seu sonambulismo perturbado por sons recuperados à fauna animal que circunda a zona como abutres oriundos do além e outras texturas mais granulares repescadas a empoeirados e crepitantes discos em vinil (Schaefer é um vanguardista inconformado com as limitações convencionais do formato). E tudo isto procede-se com base numa filtragem sensÃvel do que mais bucólico, intemporal e representativo do seu ambiente de origem pode libertar um acervo de recursos que, na prática, nunca correspondem musicalmente ao que se espera deles (não há como diagnosticar qualquer ortodoxia a “Quartet for Flute, Piano and Celloâ€). Em certas alturas, as manipulações de Mathieu e Schaefer projectam em tal órbita os sentidos, que passa o suporte fÃsico do disco a parecer um fardo por contraste com o estado graciosamente gasoso do som em si.
No enquadramento dos exercÃcios mais lineares, torna-se especificamente proibitivo invocar o adjectivo ambient, quando as formas isométricas parecem verter – em espiral – a sua constituição para dentro de um poço sem fundo – a que não se escutam ecos, repercussões conclusivas do inÃcio de um qualquer movimento. Até porque Hidden Name não impõe balizas aos seus corpos alheados de pressão gravÃtica (“The Planets”, por exemplo, é gloriosamente infinito e impossÃvel de ser fragmentado), limitando-se a oferecer uma oportunidade temporalmente cronometrada de se avaliar o que produz a ressonância fantasmagórica que, em tempos, estigmatizou o espaço ao qual foi gravado um som no seu estado bruto para servir ao presente disco.
Além da infinidade de leituras que oferece a quem nele se atrever a aventurar, Hidden Name anula quaisquer reticências que pudessem pairar sobre as certezas de que este tem sido um ano abundantemente generoso (e beneficamente imprevisÃvel) por parte da portuense Crónica (se exceptuarmos o meio-deslize – formalmente justificado – verificado no disco de Gintas K) e de que é prioritário acompanhar o desafiante percurso que vem a percorrer, desde há dez anos, o infalÃvel Janek Shaefer, que, entre tantos outros pontos altos, já havia explorado o potencial claustrofóbico do espaço de Serralves numa performance que tratou de documentar a Sirr em Black Immure: music from the Casa of Serralves. E quem já andou por Serralves, sabe bem como é doloroso virar-lhe as costas num domingo solarengo. Nessas ocasiões, tal como nas que se verificam à escuta de Hidden Name, sobram os fantasmas e o comportamento que esses assumem. Hostil ou pacifico, conforme a percepção de cada um.
Miguel Arsénio
“Hidden Name†reviewed by Cracked
I prefer to listen to this CD with the windows wide open, fresh air streaming in and the noises of the outside world mixing with the soundscapes and noises on the CD. Somehow “Hidden Name†invites the wide open space of life and living nature or cities into its soundworld to fuse into a invisible collage of the real and the synthetical, the random and the prepared. Maybe green pastures or rural villages would be more fitting to the setting and the production surrounding of this gem (Schaefer and Mathieu recorded the basic sounds in an old house in the countryside of Southern England, a house owned by an old classical composer and using all the instruments, records and field recordings they could get ahold of there) but for instance when a truck was backing up outside, the rhythmical peeping of its warning signal mixed perfectly with the warm streaming minimalism of the title track. Sometimes the noise of a streetcar is drowning out the sounds from the speakers but that is okay. I can relisten to “Hidden Name†over and over again.
Mathieu and Schaefer are no unknown figures and they have worked together before as well. They have a history of diving deep into sound and of forming impressive sound sculptures from thin air. “Hidden Name†is a more subtle and sensitive approach, with the fine atmosphere of the place they recorded in still audible and with the overall structure of the tracks more fragile and thin. Like early morning fog or a light breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Movements and dynamics are slow, there are no harsh surprises or startling effects. The stylistic range goes from minimal soundscapes that flow in a steady tone with a multitude of overtones to field recordings documenting special moments. Well, more like moments that stand out by their simplicity and emotional singularity rather than their objective global importance, like a walk in the woods with the birds singing and the dead leaves rustling under the boots (as at the end of “Cosmos†– the title and the sounds giving the track enhanced meaning). Such small and simple moments are what make life reach and pleasant and should be enjoyed, because they are a bonding moment with nature and life itself. Very much unlike the big time, made it to the top moments with thousand people applauding, which are artificial and loaded with importance by society or publicity and thereby, by definition, false.
Well, some of the sounds by itself aren’t that pleasant or soothing as the simple life in a small village can be. The crackling and rustling of turntablism by itself is not a pleasant sound (especially for someone caring for his vinyl records and treating them like little babies) as are certain woodsaw-like or machinery sounds (for instance appearing interestingly on a track called “Quartet for Flute, Piano and Cello), but for one, the same is true for street noise like traffic, wind, construction work, etc, to which I like to listen when they are mixed and the sun is shining. And for second, it is the setting and usage of sounds that defines their aesthetical value not vice versa – even if the two are regularly switched by most regular people. Moreover these sounds are mixed into the whole of the album in the same subtle and fragile manner, so that they don’t stand out in any way. The flow of the album is not broken down, quite the other way round you will suddenly find yourself listening to strange or unpleasant sounds and enjoying them just as much as the gentle and soothing waves of tones before.
The scope of these two artists is fascinating. Right in the middle of “Hidden Names†the listener is surprised with vocal sounds of the “Maori Love Songâ€, seemingly taken from an old record and re-mixed, but not so much as would be directly audible. A vocal piece contrasting the traditional wild and weird Maori Chants in an almost modern harmonic fashion. It is just a short intrusion, but a pleasing one. (Very much like the kids voices suddenly appearing outside. But that is a different story.) I said, there were no harsh sounds or effects surprising the listener, I didn’t say there were no suprises at all. In fact, there is so much on this record you might want to listen to it again and again in different kinds of settings and in different areas just to make sure you are hearing them right. Just wait for the final track “The Planetsâ€, which will make you play the album again (or switch to Greg Headly’s “operation of the heavens†by way of similar subject.)
“Leise†reviewed by De-Bug
“Leise” verarbeitet Klänge, die Frans De Waards dreijährige Tochter mit seinem Kapotte Muziek-Instrumentarium erzeugt hat: Blech, Papier, Stöcken und Plastikmüll. Mithilfe von Computersoftware entstanden daraus elektro-akustische Tracks, die nur selten die Originalsounds erkennen lassen. De Waard lässt den einzelnen Sounds und unregelmäßigen Loops Zeit, sich zu entwickeln und hält seine Musik trotz aller Einfachheit immer spannend.
“Hidden Name†reviewed by Basebog
Piccole etichette crescono: la portoghese Cronica, con base a Porto, sfoggia nel suo catalogo il nuovo lavoro del sodalizio tra Stephan Mathieu e Janek Shaefer, una collaborazione navigata da anni di porformance (si ricorda la loro prima a Mutek 2002) e che ora si cristallizza in una produzione elegante e preziosa. ‘Hidden Name’ è stato registrato in una casa di campagna nel sud dell’Inghilterra (forse quella in copertina?), e sfoggia in 12 tracce l’esperienza di due interpreti d’eccezione della sperimentazione elettronica: il primo, Mathieu, di estrazione più colta e storicista, il secondo Shaefer, sorta di gigione della sperimentazione, ricordato per le performance con trenini su piatti multipli.
Rappresentazione quasi impressionistica in suoni, in tutto l’album viene condotto all’inverosimile l’allungamento di linee melodiche all’apparenza confuse, che divengono irriconoscibili per dilatazione. Le frequenze risuonano senza eccessi con la naturalezza di fasci di luce che penetrano lentamente tra oggetti in chiaroscuro. Si dice che la casa dove ‘Hidden Name’ è stato composto fosse appartenuta ad un compositore classico, del quale Mathieu e Shaefer avrebbero recuperato ed utilizzato alcuni vinili. Quasi organistica la traccia che da’ il titolo all’opera, corale e commovente grazie ad un lirismo che non ha nulla di introverso o asettico. Sembra questa, musica suonata, e qui sta forse il suo pregio. Un suono denso e pieno percorre tutto l’album, con l’innesto di rumori bianchi vecchia maniera e campionamenti ambientali soltanto accennati, campane e campanellini, legni, vecchi pianoforti scordati e piedi strascicati. L’ambiente bucolico risuona anche nelle due tracce speciali ‘Cosmos’, dedicata al mondo degli uccelli e la straodinaria ‘The Planets’, sorta di novella breve in 20 minuti, che pare un sogno lucido, o la creazione dell’estro di un bimbo. Memorabile anche ‘Quartet For Flute, Piano And Cello’, colonna sonora di un dormiveglia nella mattina brumosa. Un disco magico e salutare, che riporta l’elettronica in luoghi normalmente distanti ma dove, per vocazione tecnica, in realtà trova una sua collocazione estetica precisa ed appagante per l’ascoltatore.