SFE

Positions and Descriptions
Clean Feed CF 230 CD

By Ken Waxman

For the past 20-odd years as “Butch” Morris has demonstrated conduction: structuring free improvisation using a specific series of hand gestures, many improvising ensembles have been created in his its wake. Whether groups use or not signals developed by Morris to rearrange and sculpt notated and non-notated music, conduction is part of their inventory. As these releases demonstrate however, it depends on individual musicians’ skills for a performance to be fully satisfying.

This is apparent on Verona, collecting two Morris-directed conductions from 1994 and 1995. While both involve 11-piece ensembles, the instrumentation in 1995 makes it more satisfying. The three parts of “Verona Skyscraper” vibrate with a lyrical exposition and juddering intensity that upstages the five parts of “The Cloth” from 1994. As two percussionists, a guitarist and two pianists stretch, smack and crunch a pulsating ostinato, distinctive solo interludes interrupt the cacophonous friction. Bill Horvitz’s guitar plinks are contrapuntally paired with one pianist’s key clipping or the aggression of the rhythm section is muted by Stefano Benini’s legato flute tone or contralto wisps from Marco Pasetto’s clarinet. Throughout, Zeena Parkins’ harp plinks are lyrical with a hard edge. As the massed instrumental textures quiver continuously, the stand out soloist is J.A. Deane on trombone and electronics. His braying plunger work cuts through harmonized woodwind extensions or the layered friction of piano strumming cadenzas. Eventually the full-force instrumental bubbles to a crescendo, then ebbs to signal the finale by shrinking to triangle pings and guitar plinks.

Although Deane also solos on “The Cloth”, the minimalist quivers predominating from dual cello string shimmies, low-frequency piano chording and gaunt oboe tones make the themes overly precious. When the downward pinches of Parkins’ harp stand out as disruptively staccato, the textural sameness of the other textures becomes apparent. Luckily by the time the carol-like “Omega” is played, sul ponticello strokes from the celli, and whacks from Le Quan Ninh’s percussion join barking trombone guffaws to angle at least this piece towards concluding excitement.

Flash forward 12 years and bassist/composer Simon H. Fell’s Positions and Descriptions owes as much to juxtaposition as conduction, although Steve Beresford s on hand to bring conduction clues to the 16-piece ensemble. The nine-movement suite is described as “a compilation … incorporating composed, pre-recorded and improvised elements”. With the pre-recorded sequences at a minimum, the tension engendered is between the composition’s notated and free-form sections. Early in the suite Tim Berne’s mercurial saxophone lines create free jazz interludes abetted by drummer Mark Sanders’ rim shots. Later, a chamber ensemble of clarinet and strings echo ornate textures as glockenspiel, vibes and bells jingle contrapuntally and a tubax burps. From a jazz standpoint, “Movt. III” is the most exhilarating track, with Sanders’ bass drum accents and Fell’s pumping strings leading the band though a vamp reminiscent of Count Basie’s 16 men swinging. In counterpoint clarinettist Alex Ward produces reed-biting shrieks and trumpeter Chris Batchelor brassy slurs. Before a cacophonous ending, pianist Philip Thomas and violinist Mifune Tsuji output a faux-schmaltzy tango. Preceding and following this, harp glissandi and baroque-styled trumpet maintain the composition’s formalistic aspects. Fell makes jokes as well. “Plusieurs Commentaires de PB pour DR [Description 5]” described as a “mini concerto for baritone saxophone”, only features the horn’s distinctive snorts when introducing the following “Movt. V”. Before that the piece involves flute whistles, piano key percussion and half-swallowed saxophone tongue slaps. The concluding “Movt. V” gives guitarist Joe Morris a dynamic showcase for kinetic string snaps. At the same time Fell has orchestrated sequences in which staccato string vibrations, woodwind smears and horror-movie quivers from the electronics arrive in sequence. Taken adagio, the finale involves every musician creating snarling dissonance.

Whether that last sequence actually involved conduction, giving top-flight soloists their head is evidentially as good a guarantee of quality music as theory.

Tracks: Positions: Movt. I [Positions 1:1, 1:2, 1:3, 1:4; Who’s the Fat Man? [Description 1]; Movt. II [Position 5]; FZ pour PB [Description 2]/Commentaire I de “FZ pour PB” [Description 3]; Movt. III [Positions 6-9]; Graphic Description 4; Movt. IV [Position 10]; Plusieurs Commentaires de PB pour DR [Description 5]; Movt. V [Positions 11-17]

Personnel: Positions: Chris Batchelor: trumpet; Jim Denley: piccolo, concert, alto and bass flutes; Andrew Sparling: Eb, Bb and bass clarinets; Alex Ward: Bb clarinet; Tim Berne: alto saxophone; Damien Royannais: baritone saxophone, Eb tubax; Mifune Tsuji: violin; Rhodri Davies: harps; Philip Thomas: piano and celesta; Joe Morris: guitar; Simon H. Fell: bass and electronics; Philip Joseph: theremin; Mark Sanders: drums; Joby Burgess: percussion; Steve Beresford: electronics and conduction; Clark Rundell: conductor

Tracks: Verona: Conduction No. 43: The Cloth; Via Talciona; Dust to Dust (part 1); Omega; Long Goodbye / Conduction No. 46: Skyscraper Mutiny; Crossdresser; Testament

Personnel: Verona: Conduction No. 43: J.A. Deane trombone/electronics; Mario Arcari: oboe; Riccardo Fassi and Myra Melford: pianos; Brandon Ross: guitar; Bryan Carrot: vibraphone; Stephano Montaldo: viola; Martin Schutz and Martine Altenburger: cello; Zeena Parkins: harp; Le Quan Ninh: percussion/Conduction No. 46: J.A. Deane trombone/electronics; Stefano Benini : flute; Marco Pasetto: clarinet; Francesco Bearzatti: bass clarinet; Rizzardo Piazzi: alto saxophone; Riccardo Massari and Myra Melford: pianos; Bill Horvitz: guitar; Zeena Parkins: harp; Carlo “Bobo” Facchinetti: drums; Le Quan Ninh: percussion

--For New York City Jazz Record January 2012

January 5, 2012

Cranc

Copper Fields
Organized Music from Thessaloniki #09/Absurd #82

Redefining and reconstructing the idea of how a string trio should sound, the members of Cranc have produced a single, nearly hour-long piece that may onomatopoeically reproduce the sound of the ensemble’s name, which is a homonym for the word defined as nonconformist.

Nonconformist the three who cranked out this superior example of non-idiomatic, electro-acoustic improvisation may be, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have appropriate musical credentials. Nikos Veliotis is an Athens-based cellist involved in audio and visual experiments, as well as playing with the likes of Norwegian bassist Michael Duch and British pianist John Tilbury. London-based Welsh violinist Angharad Davies is conversant with both notated and improvised experimental music and plays with such international sound explorers as saxophonist John Butcher from the United Kingdom and German trumpeter Axel Dörner. Davies’ brother Rhodri Davies has over the past decade-and-a-half created a unique role for the venerable harp in improvised music, working with everyone from Butcher to German synthesizer player Thomas Lehn.

Together since 1999, Cranc has through the use of extended technique and sonic processing created a polyphonic interface more concentrated than concerned with individual expression. Certain string properties are nonetheless put into use. Suite or sonata-like in a less-than-obvious manner, “Copper Fields” include a distinct, pulsating bass line present in the exposition which is recapitulated in the final section. This motif efficiently frames thematic development which is expanded, reshaped, and manipulated throughout.

With time-stretching and oscillations in effect throughout, the sound picture is languid, staccato and pointillist, although certain sequences are stentorian and others barely audible. Potentially extending the separations with the use of piezo pickups and an e-bow attached to the harp, these motor-driven buzzes also share space with string tropes that include sul ponticello shrilling and staccato flanges. Although the program mulches textures together so that they attain sandpapered flatness, bow angling and string scrubbing accentuate enough roughness to give the frequently murmuring process some pointed sequences.

Moving towards the finale, foreground wave forms concentrate into a multiphonic line which swells to encompass the extensions and partials that characterize both acoustic instruments’ qualities and the electronic interface. Fading to momentary silence, before the final variant, the regrouped theme takes on a quivering church organ-like pulse which snakes, shivers and buzzes to a reprise before concluding with untrammelled acoustic hums and pointedly mechanical whirrs.

With “Copper Fields” the Davis family members and honorary sibling have created a piece of music that is definitely not their father’s – or mother’s – string trio or sonata form. But it is high quality improvised sounds nonetheless.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Copper Fields

Personnel: Angharad Davies (violin); Nikos Veliotis (cello) and Rhodri Davies (electric harp)

November 25, 2011

Festival Report:

Météo Music Festival August 23 to August 27 2011
By Ken Waxman

Météo means weather in French, and one notable aspect of this year’s Météo Music Festival which takes place in Mulhouse, France, was the weather. It’s a testament to the high quality of the creative music there that audiences throughout the five days were without exception quiet and attentive despite temperatures in non air-conditioned concert spaces that hovered around the high 90sF. More dramatically, one afternoon a sudden freak thunderstorm created an unexpected crescendo to a hushed, spatial performance, by the Greek-Welsh Cranc trio of cellist Nikos Veliotis, harpist Rhodri Davies and violinist Angharad Davies, when winds violently blew ajar the immense wooden front door of Friche DMC, a former thread factory, causing glass to shatter and fall nosily.

Luckily other Météo highlights were strictly of the musical variety, some taking place in first-time festival venues. Two mammoth churches hosted improvised pipe organ concerts; a library presented brief children’s concerts; the city’s Belle Époque theatre showcased formal concerts by vocal-oriented trios; a soon-to-be demolished parking garage showcased a reunion of two British free music pioneers; and major documentaries about Germany’s tenor saxophonist Peter Brötzmann and France’s baritone saxophonist Daunik Lazro were screened at the Cinéma Le Palace.

Lazro performed in person one noon hour in the 12th Century Chapelle Saint-Jean. Here his unique reed projections which move from juddering altissimo cries to percussive tongue slaps and dark, echoing renal growls met the shrilling reed quivers and vocal retches, pants and cackles of French clarinetist/vocalist Isabelle Duthoit for a magnificent display of in-the-moment conceptualism. Besides this chapel, the other regular Météo site was the Noumatrouff. This funky space is mostly for rock shows, a role it seemed to revert to one night when Dutch punk-jazzers The Ex unrolled an enthusiastic set, featuring a vamping horn section. With chairs removed that one time to create a dance floor, enthusiastic fans swayed or pogoed, with the vibe contrasting markedly with the cerebral solemnity of other pure improv shows.

That’s seriousness, not humourlessness though. French bassist Joëlle Léandre for instance, in a premier meeting with cellist Vincent Courtois at the Noumatrouff, added episodes of near-vaudeville to the duo’s profound and classically-tinged improvising. While his timbres often resulted from stentorian plucks, strumming the instrument horizontally strumming like a blues guitarist, or creating spiccato pulses by rubbing two bows on the strings, Léandre’s inimitable improvising encompassed more the string sleight-of-hands. Sometimes miming as she loudly popped the strings or vocalizing both basso and bel canto as she played, Léandre rubbed her bow all over the bass, kicked it the odd time, kissed it in supplication, eventually lowering the bass and herself downwards as she played, ending the set with both she and the instrument lying on the stage.

If Léandre’s performance was the most theatrical, she wasn’t the only bassist to make an impact. Rappelling and leaping jack-in-the-box-like over his strings to prod florid double stops or striking them resolutely with a stick, Briton Barry Guy consolidated the approaches a trio with Catalan pianist Agusti Fernandez and Spanish drummer Ramon Lopez evolved during its set at the Noumatrouff. Splattering rhythms from his cymbals, bongo and conga plus shaking wooden rattles, the drummer wasn’t overly assertive, but went his own way. So did the pianist, whose internal string plucks showed up as often as elbow and forearm keyboard rhythms or in a turnaround, romantic glissandi. The three were sequentially chamber music players performing a sonata, sound explorers or a hot jazz band trading fours

Muscularly buzzing rhythms, plucking above and below the bridge, British bassist John Edwards joined drummer Steve Noble and guitarist Alex Ward as N.E.W., an improv version of a rock power trio during Météo’s concluding concert. As Noble slapped mallets full force on his snares or broke-up the beat by vibrating Chinese cymbals and a gong on drum tops, Ward ripped out staccato slide-guitar flanges. What jazz-rock could have been if it hadn’t degenerated into 1970s formula, N.E.W. earned two tumultuous encores. Just as powerful in execution was French bassist David Chiesa’s methodical plucks in a chamber-music-like situation with violinist Mathieu Werchowski at Chapelle Saint-Jean. Chiesa not only plucked thickly to back the fliddler’s spacious spiccato angling, but displayed cunning pumps and stops himself.

Low-string double duty was the role of Sydney-resident-turned Berliner, Clayton Thomas, who elsewhere assayed a children’s concert. During different night at Noumatrouff, his pressured bow and object string-sawing and chunky plucks not only anchored the sound pictures invoked by the Berlin Sound Connective of alto saxophonist Thomas Ankersmit, turntablist Ignaz Schick and percussionist Burkhard Beins plus off-stage mixing by France’s Jérôme Noetinger; but also made tremolo pops as the solid centre of The Ames Room, an obdurate free-jazz ensemble with bass-drum pounding fellow Aussie, Will Guthrie and Parisian Jean-Luc Guionnet. Guionnet’s tension-laden alto saxophone multiphonics only vaguely related to the sputtering but distant timbre washes he showcased at an afternoon church pipe-organ performance.

Unlike Guionnet’s blaring reed expression, Ankersmit’s irregular vibratos were eclipsed by Beins’ Styrofoam rubs and cymbal thrusts and Schick platter scraping and radio-static mixes. Other saxophonists were more upfront. Like Lazro, except using a soprano, French saxophonist Michel Doneda distilled an ever-shifting collection of flat-line air, gruff vibratos, flattement and piercing multiphonics into a timbral foil to Japanese-American Tatsuya Nakatani’s peerless percussion moves that involved rattles, cymbal slams, gong reverberation, soft mallet smacks and using his lips and mouth on drum tops to produce ratcheting timbres.

Another rewarding sax exposition came from Paris altoist Christine Abdelnour in an afternoon duo with Berlin pianist Magda Mayas, following a sweaty climb of four sets of stairs leading to the top floor of the abandoned Garage Sax. As spatially oriented as Cranc’s concert, but warmer (musically) in execution, the two slapped and clattered a series of minimalist timbres into an undulating whole. As Abdelnour alternated between sounding juddering squeaks, trouser-leg-muted textures, horizontally blown, mouthpiece suckles and undulating split tones, Mayas industriously applied a mallet to the piano strings, snaked a fish line through them stopped keyboard vibrations manually and used friction for distinctive scrapped note clusters.

Mayas was proving her take on the sort of inventive prepared and standard piano lines John Tilbury pioneered. His performance with pioneering table-top guitarist Keith Rowe, following the Mayas-Abdelnour’s set was another instance of the prototypical sonic textures Rowe and Tilbury have weaved and together for more than four decades. With the pianist’s distinct leitmotif of knife-edge patterns, key stopping and tremolo chording melded with the guitarist’s measured, flat-key plucks, constant electronic drone and bursts of radio-tuned voices and static, Tilbury and Rowe made it appear that outside bird songs and church bell-tolling were an expected part of their mesmerizing, strategy. When the open-ended sounds faded away, everyone was convinced that the duo had rendered a matchless performance, although no one could detail just how it had been done.

Something similar could be said about the Météo Music Festival. Year after year artistic prescience and organizational smarts combine for a smooth-running and musically sophisticated sound feast with evolves seamlessly.

--For New York City Jazz Record October 2011

October 10, 2011

Davies/Patterson/Troop

Wunderkammern
Another Timbre at37

Abstract abrasions and intonations make up this cabinet of curiosities constructed by three sound explorers from the United Kingdom. While the interaction on each track varies, depending on the instruments used, the overall plan attempts to blend textures in such a way that depth, volume and speed alter and shift almost imperceptibly to produce near-three-dimensional aural effects,

Each player’s background and instrument choices help define this “wunderkammern”. Welsh-born harpist Rhodri Davies, for instance, who here also uses ebows, electronics and preparations, specializes in redefining his instrument’s properties, often in the company of other timbre experimenters such as saxophonist John Butcher. Most senior of the three, writer/musician David Toop, who plays laptop, steel guitar, flutes and percussive devices, has over the years worked with partners as different as sound poet Bob Cobbing, director/actor Steven Berkoff and saxophonist Evan Parker. Prestwich-based Lee Patterson uses field recordings to mate familiar sounds with instrumental surfaces mutated with amplified devices. He regularly works in another band with violinist Angharad Davies.

Except for the odd harp glissandi or pluck and even more fragmented flute peep or lip oscillation, each of the six poetically titled tracks nearly rejects instrumental definition. Instead pressurized wave forms broken by radio-like static provides the ostinato underpinning. Simultaneously wave forms swell and dip in-and-out-of-focus revealing cue ball-like whacks, sampled bird calls, guitar twangs or stentorian harp glissandi.

Sometimes, as on “In ashes lies the Salt of Glory”, there’s a sense of timbral segmentation conveyed by the harp’s ponderous woodenness. Hand taps on the instrument’s body meet up with multiplied, computer-generated chiming, while understated percussive echoes meld intermittently and then make room for blurry twittering and disconnected high-pitched shrills. When these timbre-stretches abate, a drone remains.

Improvisations that encompass granular and synthesized timbre-altering characterize “In the dead body of a calf are generated bees”. At nearly 21 minutes, the CD’s lengthiest track, there’s still no diminishing of the closely allied timbre exploration. Swelling to fortissimo and segmented resonations, the initial hollow-sound pitches soon mutate. Suddenly apparent are suggestions of breaking glass, human-sounding cries and bell-pealing, all likely produced by Davies’ ebow and the motor-driven devices of the other players. A further variant reverses the process, concentrating these segments into a shuddering undifferentiated drone. Finally the thick pitch divides and exposes polyphonic surfaces, each of which appears to be aurally reflecting back upon one another. Obvious buzzing and twittering results as each surface comes into contact with the others, until kazoo-like intonation, extended harp-string quivers and scrapes against unyielding surfaces arise. Distantly, the harpist’s electronically extended glissandi, the flutist’s lip twisting mouthpiece kisses, and Patterson’s signal-processed echoes sequentially make their individual presence felt then dissolve as indistinct, yet rough tones.

An appreciation for non-figurative improvisation possessing hardly any distinctive instrumental tones is necessary for an acceptance of the creations of Davies, Patterson and Troop. Also necessary is the ability to take in the complete sound picture with no fear of abstraction.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. A salamander lives in the fire, which imparts to it a most glorious hue 2. From the ashes springs a seven-pointed flower 3. The toad with Colours rare through every side was pierc’d 4. In the dead body of a calf are generated bees 5. Whose falling drops from high did strain the soyl with ruddy hue 6. In ashes lies the Salt of Glory

Personnel: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebows, electronics and preparations); David Toop (laptop, steel guitar, flutes and percussive devices) and Lee Patterson (amplified devices, field recordings, etc.)

September 20, 2011

Muta

Bricolage
Al Maslakh Recordings 12

Tilbury/Duch/Davies

Cornelius Cardew: Works 1960-70

+3db 012

Multi-tasking is an accepted fact of musical life for Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies. Playing one of the world’s oldest and most distinctive sounding instrument means that his regular work doesn’t involve gigging at the neighboring watering hole with the local Jazz trio or Rock combo. Plus, since the now-Newcastle upon Tyne-based multi-string specialist is most commonly involved in the intricacies of contemporary improvised and notated music, session work is mostly out too. Happily though, Davies’ virtuosity is such that he can make an essential contribution to just about any musical situation.

Case in point these trio CDs, with completely different associates. Bricolage, recorded in Beirut, is made up of six electro-acoustic improvisations featuring Davies playing electric harp plus the flutes, tiles and preparations of Spaniard Alessandra Rombolá and the percussion, drone commander and sruti box of Norwegian Ingar Zach. Another Norwegian, bassist Michael Duch is involved on the other CD, as is British pianist John Tilbury, with Davies playing acoustic harp. But the Trondheim-recorded program is more concerned with the creative freedom the three can bring to the sometimes aleatory early compositions of Cornelius Cardew.

A post-war experimentalist and early associate of the AMM ensemble of which Tilbury has been an on-and-off member since its beginning, Cardew (1936–1981) developed as an experimenter but turned to agitrprop by the end of his life. Most markedly though, these 1960s’ pieces are outstanding for their mixture of quasi-improvised impulses, strains of romanticism, touches of populism, as well as an understanding of absolute sound expressed by Cardew mentors such as John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen.

Graphically scored, the except from “Treatise”, the composer’s ‘greatest hit’, moves around among tin-can-like resonations from the piano strings that feature Tilbury’s carefully spaced single notes. As Tilbury extends chromatic vibrations as well as descriptive keyboard glissandi, Davies adds strained, percussive strokes and Duch angled snaps and sul tasto squeaks. Soon the bassist and harpist add harsh, sul ponticello flourishes to the pianist`s clinking key tones and relatively unperturbed continuo..

Duch’s low-pitched strokes and Davies’ sweeping arpeggios also blend perfectly on “Unintended Piano Music”. Likely more pre-meditated than indicated, Tilbury’s performance continues to mate pedal-point sustain and buzzes in repetitious, interchangeable patterns. On the other hand, “Autumn 60” is adagio-paced, with the exercise characterized by angular plinking and choked-off string actions framing sprightly portamento on the highest-pitched keys. Lyrical, romantic and almost baroque, “4th System” is unlike other Cardew recital pieces. Taken moderato, the composition maintains its delicacy despite bow-and-arrow like harp plucks, a circular bass ostinato and prepared piano-like shakes from Tilbury.

There’s nothing rococo or impressionistic about Bricolage’s improvisations which take full sonic advantage of the electronics developed since Cardew’s time as an avant gardist. Almost without exception the undercurrent includes variants of processed harp timbres, organ-like layered drones from the sruti box and expanding puffs and verbalism from the flute that grows ever wider as the tunes develop. A prime example of this is “Encilion”, which is studded with scrapes and friction produced from unyielding objects; rustling and stopped strings; and what could be the sound of marbles striking dense surfaces. “Driphlith” on the other hand exposes irregular diaphragm-forced breaths from the flutist; inconsistent twangs, plucks and picking from the harpist; and the percussionist demonstrating happens when sticks are rotated, bounced and struck against hard surfaces following jack-hammer-like reverberations.

Nonetheless the most illustrative examples of this triple interface occur during the more-than-13-minutes of adjoining “Llinyn” and “Osgo”. Culminating in a slowly vanishing layered ostinato that gives way to a climax of piccolo-pitched tones and percussive clip-clops, the narrative begins with what sounds like an auto motor turning over mixed with pulsating electronic impulses. As acoustic as it is electronic, the first piece also includes heavily vibrated flute multiphonics; resonating multi-string plunks, with the strings further excited by an e-bow; plus watery pops, shuffles and smacks produced by the cumulative use of chimes, claves, a wood block and a cow bell.

A model collaborator no matter the circumstances, Davies’ skill helps make each of these widely divergent sessions notable and exciting.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Bricolage: 1. Driphlith 2. Encilion 3. Goriwaered 4. Hafflau 5. Llinyn 6. Osgo

Personnel: Bricolage: Alessandra Rombolá (flutes, tiles and preparations); Rhodri Davies (electric harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion, drone commander, sruti box)

Track Listing: Works: 1. Autumn 60 2. 4th System 3. Material 4. Solo with Accompaniment 5. Treatise (excerpt) 6. Unintended Piano Music

Personnel: Works: John Tilbury (piano); Michael Duch (bass) and Rhodri Davies (harp)

April 28, 2011

Tilbury/Duch/Davies

Cornelius Cardew: Works 1960-70
+3db 012

Muta

Bricolage

Al Maslakh Recordings 12

Multi-tasking is an accepted fact of musical life for Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies. Playing one of the world’s oldest and most distinctive sounding instrument means that his regular work doesn’t involve gigging at the neighboring watering hole with the local Jazz trio or Rock combo. Plus, since the now-Newcastle upon Tyne-based multi-string specialist is most commonly involved in the intricacies of contemporary improvised and notated music, session work is mostly out too. Happily though, Davies’ virtuosity is such that he can make an essential contribution to just about any musical situation.

Case in point these trio CDs, with completely different associates. Bricolage, recorded in Beirut, is made up of six electro-acoustic improvisations featuring Davies playing electric harp plus the flutes, tiles and preparations of Spaniard Alessandra Rombolá and the percussion, drone commander and sruti box of Norwegian Ingar Zach. Another Norwegian, bassist Michael Duch is involved on the other CD, as is British pianist John Tilbury, with Davies playing acoustic harp. But the Trondheim-recorded program is more concerned with the creative freedom the three can bring to the sometimes aleatory early compositions of Cornelius Cardew.

A post-war experimentalist and early associate of the AMM ensemble of which Tilbury has been an on-and-off member since its beginning, Cardew (1936–1981) developed as an experimenter but turned to agitrprop by the end of his life. Most markedly though, these 1960s’ pieces are outstanding for their mixture of quasi-improvised impulses, strains of romanticism, touches of populism, as well as an understanding of absolute sound expressed by Cardew mentors such as John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen.

Graphically scored, the except from “Treatise”, the composer’s ‘greatest hit’, moves around among tin-can-like resonations from the piano strings that feature Tilbury’s carefully spaced single notes. As Tilbury extends chromatic vibrations as well as descriptive keyboard glissandi, Davies adds strained, percussive strokes and Duch angled snaps and sul tasto squeaks. Soon the bassist and harpist add harsh, sul ponticello flourishes to the pianist`s clinking key tones and relatively unperturbed continuo..

Duch’s low-pitched strokes and Davies’ sweeping arpeggios also blend perfectly on “Unintended Piano Music”. Likely more pre-meditated than indicated, Tilbury’s performance continues to mate pedal-point sustain and buzzes in repetitious, interchangeable patterns. On the other hand, “Autumn 60” is adagio-paced, with the exercise characterized by angular plinking and choked-off string actions framing sprightly portamento on the highest-pitched keys. Lyrical, romantic and almost baroque, “4th System” is unlike other Cardew recital pieces. Taken moderato, the composition maintains its delicacy despite bow-and-arrow like harp plucks, a circular bass ostinato and prepared piano-like shakes from Tilbury.

There’s nothing rococo or impressionistic about Bricolage’s improvisations which take full sonic advantage of the electronics developed since Cardew’s time as an avant gardist. Almost without exception the undercurrent includes variants of processed harp timbres, organ-like layered drones from the sruti box and expanding puffs and verbalism from the flute that grows ever wider as the tunes develop. A prime example of this is “Encilion”, which is studded with scrapes and friction produced from unyielding objects; rustling and stopped strings; and what could be the sound of marbles striking dense surfaces. “Driphlith” on the other hand exposes irregular diaphragm-forced breaths from the flutist; inconsistent twangs, plucks and picking from the harpist; and the percussionist demonstrating happens when sticks are rotated, bounced and struck against hard surfaces following jack-hammer-like reverberations.

Nonetheless the most illustrative examples of this triple interface occur during the more-than-13-minutes of adjoining “Llinyn” and “Osgo”. Culminating in a slowly vanishing layered ostinato that gives way to a climax of piccolo-pitched tones and percussive clip-clops, the narrative begins with what sounds like an auto motor turning over mixed with pulsating electronic impulses. As acoustic as it is electronic, the first piece also includes heavily vibrated flute multiphonics; resonating multi-string plunks, with the strings further excited by an e-bow; plus watery pops, shuffles and smacks produced by the cumulative use of chimes, claves, a wood block and a cow bell.

A model collaborator no matter the circumstances, Davies’ skill helps make each of these widely divergent sessions notable and exciting.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Bricolage: 1. Driphlith 2. Encilion 3. Goriwaered 4. Hafflau 5. Llinyn 6. Osgo

Personnel: Bricolage: Alessandra Rombolá (flutes, tiles and preparations); Rhodri Davies (electric harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion, drone commander, sruti box)

Track Listing: Works: 1. Autumn 60 2. 4th System 3. Material 4. Solo with Accompaniment 5. Treatise (excerpt) 6. Unintended Piano Music

Personnel: Works: John Tilbury (piano); Michael Duch (bass) and Rhodri Davies (harp)

April 28, 2011

Rhodri Davies/Michel Doneda/Louisa Martin/Phil Minton/Lee Patterson

Midhopestones
Another Timbre at19

John Butcher/Rhodri Davies

Carliol

Ftarri 220

Rhodri Davies/Stéphane Rives/Ernesto Rodrigues/Guilherme Rodrigues/Carlos Santos

Twerf Neus Ciglau

Creative Sources CS 156 CD

When blazing new sonic trails it seems that Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies has a particular affinity for doing so alongside saxophonists, as these CDs recorded between 2007 and 2009 attest. Furthermore, listening to these sessions chronologically, it appears that Davies is becoming progressively more selfless with his timbral palate whether he’s joined by Japanese Onkyo practitioners or European formalists. Only on Twerf Neus Ciglau for instance, are the harp’s expected ringing tones heard. On the other CDs, unexpected textures produced by manual string preparations, electronics, an embedded speaker and other techniques associated with a pedal harp, a lever harp or an electric harp predominate.

Each setting is unique as well. Carliol is an exercise in individuality between the harpist and his long-time confrere and London-based saxophonist John Butcher. With France’s Michel Doneda in the reed chair, Midhopestones features the most unusual textures, probably because the other participants are Louisa Martin on laptop, Lee Patterson on amplified objects and processes plus distinctive English vocalist Phil Minton. Most traditional – in this context – of the discs is Twerf Neus Ciglau. Davies’ reed partner on this Lisbon-recorded session is French soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives; electronics come from Carlos Santos, Ernesto Rodrigues plays viola, and his son Guilherme Rodrigues cello.

Rives’ tongue slaps and whistles work themselves into broken-octave concordance with the rustling and rubbed node variations from the strings. With Santos’ vibrating oscillations and flanging developing into undifferentiated drones, this locust storm of blurred buzzes is at points breached by the harp’s rasping strokes, sul tasto runs from the cello, wood-clacking chroamaticism from the string players or sonic wisps forced without key pressure from the saxophone’s body tube. As the cumulative, broken-chord exposition becomes louder it also becomes less cohesive, with rough timbres extruding every which way, until the piece concludes with a thinned, bubbling saxophone tone.

On the other hand, the sounds on Twerf… could be Heavy Metal compared to the British Folkie aesthetic that seems to characterize Midhopestones. Although identifying harp timbres are missing, so too, most of the time, are other individual traits – even Minton’s soundsinging. The vocalist’s unique tessitura only begins to assert itself during the lengthy “Crow Edge” and “Wharncliffe Side”, as it pushes aside electronic whizzes, harsh reed exhalation plus marimba-like wooden plops. Minton’s strained and nasally challenged falsetto gasps soon translate into nonsense syllables and mouth cackles, cries and burps. Similarly Doneda’s flat-line breaths are sturdily pushed through the horn’s body tube until unconnected grinds and thunderous sequences from the electronics supersede both men’s efforts.

By the final variant of “Wharncliffe Side” however, the concentrated and almost overbearing computer pulses clear away to reveal sweeping glissandi, rough strums and rebounds from the pedal harp; growling split tones and peeping tongue stops from the saxophone; and ghostly ululations from the top of Minton’s vocal range. With the resulting sounds resembling those created by slowing playback speed from 78 rpm to 33⅓ rpms, is the inspiring crescendo created live or pieced together through processing?

More affiliated with real time, the majority of Carliol’s improvisations are concerned with the application and extension of different saxophone and harp techniques. While the CD starts off with an engaged exercise in fortissimo feedback, the full extent of the partnership is expressed on subsequent tracks. “Ouse Poppy” for instance, which utilizes embedded harp speakers, contrasts the delays which resonate through the harp’s body with shrill peeps and beeps from the saxophone. As the tones subsequently thicken to near-chiaroscuro timbres, hand-tapped string extensions and reed split tones define each instrument’s individuality. “Lash”, on the other hand, molds portamento harmonies, staccato string strokes and rolled arpeggios from Davies into a sonic whole outlined against Butcher’s circular, signal processed-like chirps. Following broken-chord harmonies involving pressurized reed vibrations and percussive string thumps, the narrative diminishes, with extended squeaks as the coda.

Throughout this CD, differing harp processes move from flat-line pulses to energetic organ-like muliphonics to create symbiosis between strings and the saxophonist’s circular-breathed chirps, quacks and shrills. Although frequently mirroring the saxophonist’s multiphonic screams, Davies maintains individual harmonic intonation.

The Welsh harpist is constantly evolving new strategies to deal with unique and challenging situations. These CDs preserve literal records of how well he succeeds with each.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Carliol: 1. Pandon Bank 2. Lash 3.Gallow Gate 4. Scrogg 5.Ouse Poppy 6. Garth Heads 7. Distant Leazes

Personnel: Carliol: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones, plus feedback, motors and embedded harp speaker) and Rhodri Davies (pedal harp, lever harp with embedded speaker, electric harp and Aeolian electric harp)

Track Listing: Midhopestones: 1. Strines 2. Crow Edge 3. Wharncliffe Side 4. Deepcar

Personnel: Midhopestones: Michel Doneda (soprano saxophone); Rhodri Davies (harp and electric harp); Louisa Martin (laptop); Lee Patterson (amplified objects and processes) and Phil Minton (voice)

Track Listing: Twerf: I

Personnel: Twerf: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Ernesto Rodrigues (viola); Guilherme Rodrigues (cello); Rhodri Davies (harp and electronics) and Carlos Santos (electronics)

December 29, 2010

Rhodri Davies/Stéphane Rives/Ernesto Rodrigues/Guilherme Rodrigues/Carlos Santos

Twerf Neus Ciglau
Creative Sources CS 156 CD

Rhodri Davies/Michel Doneda/Louisa Martin/Phil Minton/Lee Patterson

Midhopestones

Another Timbre at19

John Butcher/Rhodri Davies

Carliol

Ftarri 220

When blazing new sonic trails it seems that Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies has a particular affinity for doing so alongside saxophonists, as these CDs recorded between 2007 and 2009 attest. Furthermore, listening to these sessions chronologically, it appears that Davies is becoming progressively more selfless with his timbral palate whether he’s joined by Japanese Onkyo practitioners or European formalists. Only on Twerf Neus Ciglau for instance, are the harp’s expected ringing tones heard. On the other CDs, unexpected textures produced by manual string preparations, electronics, an embedded speaker and other techniques associated with a pedal harp, a lever harp or an electric harp predominate.

Each setting is unique as well. Carliol is an exercise in individuality between the harpist and his long-time confrere and London-based saxophonist John Butcher. With France’s Michel Doneda in the reed chair, Midhopestones features the most unusual textures, probably because the other participants are Louisa Martin on laptop, Lee Patterson on amplified objects and processes plus distinctive English vocalist Phil Minton. Most traditional – in this context – of the discs is Twerf Neus Ciglau. Davies’ reed partner on this Lisbon-recorded session is French soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives; electronics come from Carlos Santos, Ernesto Rodrigues plays viola, and his son Guilherme Rodrigues cello.

Rives’ tongue slaps and whistles work themselves into broken-octave concordance with the rustling and rubbed node variations from the strings. With Santos’ vibrating oscillations and flanging developing into undifferentiated drones, this locust storm of blurred buzzes is at points breached by the harp’s rasping strokes, sul tasto runs from the cello, wood-clacking chroamaticism from the string players or sonic wisps forced without key pressure from the saxophone’s body tube. As the cumulative, broken-chord exposition becomes louder it also becomes less cohesive, with rough timbres extruding every which way, until the piece concludes with a thinned, bubbling saxophone tone.

On the other hand, the sounds on Twerf… could be Heavy Metal compared to the British Folkie aesthetic that seems to characterize Midhopestones. Although identifying harp timbres are missing, so too, most of the time, are other individual traits – even Minton’s soundsinging. The vocalist’s unique tessitura only begins to assert itself during the lengthy “Crow Edge” and “Wharncliffe Side”, as it pushes aside electronic whizzes, harsh reed exhalation plus marimba-like wooden plops. Minton’s strained and nasally challenged falsetto gasps soon translate into nonsense syllables and mouth cackles, cries and burps. Similarly Doneda’s flat-line breaths are sturdily pushed through the horn’s body tube until unconnected grinds and thunderous sequences from the electronics supersede both men’s efforts.

By the final variant of “Wharncliffe Side” however, the concentrated and almost overbearing computer pulses clear away to reveal sweeping glissandi, rough strums and rebounds from the pedal harp; growling split tones and peeping tongue stops from the saxophone; and ghostly ululations from the top of Minton’s vocal range. With the resulting sounds resembling those created by slowing playback speed from 78 rpm to 33⅓ rpms, is the inspiring crescendo created live or pieced together through processing?

More affiliated with real time, the majority of Carliol’s improvisations are concerned with the application and extension of different saxophone and harp techniques. While the CD starts off with an engaged exercise in fortissimo feedback, the full extent of the partnership is expressed on subsequent tracks. “Ouse Poppy” for instance, which utilizes embedded harp speakers, contrasts the delays which resonate through the harp’s body with shrill peeps and beeps from the saxophone. As the tones subsequently thicken to near-chiaroscuro timbres, hand-tapped string extensions and reed split tones define each instrument’s individuality. “Lash”, on the other hand, molds portamento harmonies, staccato string strokes and rolled arpeggios from Davies into a sonic whole outlined against Butcher’s circular, signal processed-like chirps. Following broken-chord harmonies involving pressurized reed vibrations and percussive string thumps, the narrative diminishes, with extended squeaks as the coda.

Throughout this CD, differing harp processes move from flat-line pulses to energetic organ-like muliphonics to create symbiosis between strings and the saxophonist’s circular-breathed chirps, quacks and shrills. Although frequently mirroring the saxophonist’s multiphonic screams, Davies maintains individual harmonic intonation.

The Welsh harpist is constantly evolving new strategies to deal with unique and challenging situations. These CDs preserve literal records of how well he succeeds with each.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Carliol: 1. Pandon Bank 2. Lash 3.Gallow Gate 4. Scrogg 5.Ouse Poppy 6. Garth Heads 7. Distant Leazes

Personnel: Carliol: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones, plus feedback, motors and embedded harp speaker) and Rhodri Davies (pedal harp, lever harp with embedded speaker, electric harp and Aeolian electric harp)

Track Listing: Midhopestones: 1. Strines 2. Crow Edge 3. Wharncliffe Side 4. Deepcar

Personnel: Midhopestones: Michel Doneda (soprano saxophone); Rhodri Davies (harp and electric harp); Louisa Martin (laptop); Lee Patterson (amplified objects and processes) and Phil Minton (voice)

Track Listing: Twerf: I

Personnel: Twerf: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Ernesto Rodrigues (viola); Guilherme Rodrigues (cello); Rhodri Davies (harp and electronics) and Carlos Santos (electronics)

December 29, 2010

John Butcher/Rhodri Davies

Carliol
Ftarri 220

Rhodri Davies/Michel Doneda/Louisa Martin/Phil Minton/Lee Patterson

Midhopestones

Another Timbre at19

Rhodri Davies/Stéphane Rives/Ernesto Rodrigues/Guilherme
Rodrigues/Carlos Santos

Twerf Neus Ciglau

Creative Sources CS 156 CD

When blazing new sonic trails it seems that Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies has a particular affinity for doing so alongside saxophonists, as these CDs recorded between 2007 and 2009 attest. Furthermore, listening to these sessions chronologically, it appears that Davies is becoming progressively more selfless with his timbral palate whether he’s joined by Japanese Onkyo practitioners or European formalists. Only on Twerf Neus Ciglau for instance, are the harp’s expected ringing tones heard. On the other CDs, unexpected textures produced by manual string preparations, electronics, an embedded speaker and other techniques associated with a pedal harp, a lever harp or an electric harp predominate.

Each setting is unique as well. Carliol is an exercise in individuality between the harpist and his long-time confrere and London-based saxophonist John Butcher. With France’s Michel Doneda in the reed chair, Midhopestones features the most unusual textures, probably because the other participants are Louisa Martin on laptop, Lee Patterson on amplified objects and processes plus distinctive English vocalist Phil Minton. Most traditional – in this context – of the discs is Twerf Neus Ciglau. Davies’ reed partner on this Lisbon-recorded session is French soprano saxophonist Stéphane Rives; electronics come from Carlos Santos, Ernesto Rodrigues plays viola, and his son Guilherme Rodrigues cello.

Rives’ tongue slaps and whistles work themselves into broken-octave concordance with the rustling and rubbed node variations from the strings. With Santos’ vibrating oscillations and flanging developing into undifferentiated drones, this locust storm of blurred buzzes is at points breached by the harp’s rasping strokes, sul tasto runs from the cello, wood-clacking chroamaticism from the string players or sonic wisps forced without key pressure from the saxophone’s body tube. As the cumulative, broken-chord exposition becomes louder it also becomes less cohesive, with rough timbres extruding every which way, until the piece concludes with a thinned, bubbling saxophone tone.

On the other hand, the sounds on Twerf… could be Heavy Metal compared to the British Folkie aesthetic that seems to characterize Midhopestones. Although identifying harp timbres are missing, so too, most of the time, are other individual traits – even Minton’s soundsinging. The vocalist’s unique tessitura only begins to assert itself during the lengthy “Crow Edge” and “Wharncliffe Side”, as it pushes aside electronic whizzes, harsh reed exhalation plus marimba-like wooden plops. Minton’s strained and nasally challenged falsetto gasps soon translate into nonsense syllables and mouth cackles, cries and burps. Similarly Doneda’s flat-line breaths are sturdily pushed through the horn’s body tube until unconnected grinds and thunderous sequences from the electronics supersede both men’s efforts.

By the final variant of “Wharncliffe Side” however, the concentrated and almost overbearing computer pulses clear away to reveal sweeping glissandi, rough strums and rebounds from the pedal harp; growling split tones and peeping tongue stops from the saxophone; and ghostly ululations from the top of Minton’s vocal range. With the resulting sounds resembling those created by slowing playback speed from 78 rpm to 33⅓ rpms, is the inspiring crescendo created live or pieced together through processing?

More affiliated with real time, the majority of Carliol’s improvisations are concerned with the application and extension of different saxophone and harp techniques. While the CD starts off with an engaged exercise in fortissimo feedback, the full extent of the partnership is expressed on subsequent tracks. “Ouse Poppy” for instance, which utilizes embedded harp speakers, contrasts the delays which resonate through the harp’s body with shrill peeps and beeps from the saxophone. As the tones subsequently thicken to near-chiaroscuro timbres, hand-tapped string extensions and reed split tones define each instrument’s individuality. “Lash”, on the other hand, molds portamento harmonies, staccato string strokes and rolled arpeggios from Davies into a sonic whole outlined against Butcher’s circular, signal processed-like chirps. Following broken-chord harmonies involving pressurized reed vibrations and percussive string thumps, the narrative diminishes, with extended squeaks as the coda.

Throughout this CD, differing harp processes move from flat-line pulses to energetic organ-like muliphonics to create symbiosis between strings and the saxophonist’s circular-breathed chirps, quacks and shrills. Although frequently mirroring the saxophonist’s multiphonic screams, Davies maintains individual harmonic intonation.

The Welsh harpist is constantly evolving new strategies to deal with unique and challenging situations. These CDs preserve literal records of how well he succeeds with each.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Carliol: 1. Pandon Bank 2. Lash 3.Gallow Gate 4. Scrogg 5.Ouse Poppy 6. Garth Heads 7. Distant Leazes

Personnel: Carliol: John Butcher (tenor and soprano saxophones, plus feedback, motors and embedded harp speaker) and Rhodri Davies (pedal harp, lever harp with embedded speaker, electric harp and Aeolian electric harp)

Track Listing: Midhopestones: 1. Strines 2. Crow Edge 3. Wharncliffe Side 4. Deepcar

Personnel: Midhopestones: Michel Doneda (soprano saxophone); Rhodri Davies (harp and electric harp); Louisa Martin (laptop); Lee Patterson (amplified objects and processes) and Phil Minton (voice)

Track Listing: Twerf: I

Personnel: Twerf: Stéphane Rives (soprano saxophone); Ernesto Rodrigues (viola); Guilherme Rodrigues (cello); Rhodri Davies (harp and electronics) and Carlos Santos (electronics)

December 29, 2010

A New Pulse:

Another Timbre welcomes both established and younger improvisers
By Ken Waxman

Frustration, altruism and a sudden monetary windfall were the contributing factors that led Simon Reynell to found the Sheffield England-based Another Timbre record label (www.anothertimbre.com) in 2006. After more than two dozen releases – both on CD and CD-R – it’s now acknowledged as an artistic success.

A sound recordist for television and someone who has been “passionately into experimental music” for around 35 years, Reynell had become increasingly frustrated by what he calls the “dumbing down” of TV programming to reality and celebrity-oriented shows from the sort of proper documentaries on which he works. An unexpected inheritance gave him some capital and Another Timbre (AT) was born. Initially setting out to present the work of young improvisers involved in drummer Eddie Prévost’s 10-year-old weekly London workshop, the catalogue has expanded to include not only improvisers from outside the United Kingdom, but also established stylists such as pianist Chris Burn and sound-singer Phil Minton.

“I’m particularly interested in the increasingly fuzzy boundaries between contemporary classical music and improvisation as well as the interface between acoustic and electronic sounds,” explains Reynell “I'm always looking for means of bridging the gap between the two musics in innovative ways.” The majority of AT’s releases reflect this concept.

“Musicians send me things for release, and I try to give everything a fair hearing,” he elaborates when asked about the label’s release policy. “I tend not to like large-group improvisations, as they so often end up becoming a messy mush of sound. And I have a slight prejudice against solo discs because I so much like the element of collaboration you get in small group improvisation.”

With the label run on the proverbial shoestring – and part-time, Reynell still works in TV – arrangement with musicians initially involve no payment. Although some AT CDs are made up of previously recorded music, with additional costs needed only for manufacturing, publicity and distribution, the majority result from Reynell asking his favourite musicians what they would like to record. Since Reynell owns portable equipment and has extensive recording expertise, finding acoustic spaces is usually the only other consideration. “As well as being cheaper, churches are atmospheric places to record,” he notes. “As long as you can find one that's reasonably quiet, given that much of the music often hovers somewhere between p and ppp.”

Following the recording sessions, the musicians themselves decide on what will be released as well as the cover art work –“for me it's only really the music that matters”, Reynell insists – with AT taking care of mastering and pressing of 500 CDs, packaging and distributing them. Each session participant receives 50 CDs each, with profits from their sale going to the musician. Sales of the remainder are used to finance the label’s on-going existence and recording of new sessions.

Admitting that “it would be so easy to run the label into the ground by releasing a series of excellent CDs by unknown musicians”, Reynell’s partial compromise is AT’s Byways sub-label of CD-Rs. Referencing one corner of London’s lively improv scene, the black and white-sleeve discs feature lower-case, electronic-inflected performances such as Loiter Volcano (at-b03), showcasing multiphonic wave pulsations by cellist Ute Kanngisser, percussionist Léo Dumont and Paul Abbot’s electronics; or Control and its Opposites (at-b04), exposing the abrasively crackling and segmented interface that emanates from shrill alto saxophonist Seymour Wright and wide-bore trumpeter Jamie Coleman with Grundik Kasyansky’s undercurrent of electronics and samples.

Also on Byways is the label’s sole historical disc, Hugh Davies, Performances 1969-1977 (at-r01), a companion to For Hugh Davies (at11), which matches pre-recorded improvisations by the invented-instrument maker with newly recorded improvisations by other players, as Reynell would have done if Davies was alive. “[Davies] was one of my favorite improvisers, but sadly died before I started the label,” he reveals. Having paid the National Sound Archive to have copies made of Davies’ tracks for the latter CD, it seemed appropriate to issue the originals as well. “The CD-R has sold really well, especially in Japan,” declares Reynell

Other outstanding CDs in the AT catalogue include entrants from veteran improvisers and newer ones. “I bend over backwards to try to give younger players who I rate highly more exposure, and often link them with better-known players”. Midhopestones (at19) for instance, balances proven timbral extensions from experienced free musicians, saxophonist Michel Doneda and sound-singer Phil Minton, with younger players’ contributions: oscillations, buzzes and signal processing from Louisa Martin’s laptop and Lee Patterson’s amplified objects. Rhodri Davies’ acoustic and electrified harp textures moderate both groups’ sounds, benefiting his middle-aged status in this context. The minimalist narrative depends as much on Minton’s distinctive yowls and Doneda’s unemotional split tone as the electrified drones from the others.

When it comes to lesser-known musicians, Dun (at12) mixes solid, unvarying sounds from trumpeter Matt Davis and bass clarinettist Bechir Saade with nervous clicks and clatters from Matt Milton’s violin and Davis’ field recordings. Saxophonist Wright and pianist Sebastian Lexer’s Blasen (at13), balances Lexer’s organic patterning, low-frequency chording, stopped strings and buzzing resonation with the saxophonist’s tongue slaps, kazoo-like hoots and shrill shrieks, separated with plenty of pregnant pauses.

As for discs from established players, the atmospheric and contrapuntal linkage of plucked, stopped and quivering string textures exhibited on The Middle Distance (at24) from pianist Chris Burn, bassist Simon H. Fell and Philip Thomas on prepared piano, confirms that in the right hands low-frequency and low-key textures can create remarkable programs as easily as jagged, abrasive exhibitions.

Reynell concedes that in the future improvisers will use other ways of distributing music such as downloads and net labels. But there still musicians he would like to record and a backlog of already-recorded AT projects to be released. “I think a lot of musicians still like the idea of their music appearing on CD,” he muses. “It’s like an objective validation of their skills. There’s still a place for labels, but economics dictate that there will be fewer and fewer opportunities as time goes on.”

November 21, 2010

SLW

Fifteen point nine grams
Organized Music from Thessaloniki 107

The Sealed Knot

And we disappear

Another Timbre at23

Activity Center

Lohn & Brot

Absinth Records 017

Negotiating the chasm among noise, improv and notated music is Berlin-based Burkhard Beins, who over the past decade or so has solidified his identity as a sound artist as well as a percussionist. While not for the aurally squeamish – or the traditional jazzer – there are numerous exhilarating instances of timbre blending and sound collaging among this trio of discs.

Moreover these CDs also point out the increased universality of free music and free musicians. Although Activity Center – despite the American spelling of the second word – consists of two German players, it was recorded in Berlin and released on a German label. The Sealed Knot ties Beins in with two London-based string players: harpist Rhodri Davies and bassist Mark Wastell and is on a British label. Even more international, SLW’s CD is published on a Greek label, and joins improvisers from Germany (Beins), Wales (Davies), Italy (soprano saxophonist Lucio Capece) and Japan (no-input mixing board stretcher Toshimaru Nakamura).

Perhaps it’s their relative brevity compared to those tracks on the SLW disc, or perhaps it’s duet the multiplicity of voices involved elsewhere, but single, wide-ranging improvisations from either SLW or The Sealed Knot appear more impressive than Lohn & Brot’s five duo performances. Considering that the disc’s most lengthy track is almost as long as the entire Sealed Knot CD suggests the possibility of electro-synthesis overkill in this format.

Dealing with the SLW quartet first, it’s often easiest to distinguish the unfiltered timbres of Capece’s reed here then the vibrating tessitura of any of the others’ instruments. More importantly, as someone who has partnered with such unique sound producers as tubaist Robin Hayward, Capece’s discordant diaphragm trills or chirping split tones contribute as much to creating the inchoate miasma as the repeated signal-processed drones and reverb emanating from Nakamura’s apparatus. A long-time associate of saxophonist John Butcher, Davies moderates the expected textures that emanate from his chosen instrument with the sort of devices that amplify arpeggios one moment and transform them with rasping oscillations the next. Meanwhile Beins’ percussion strokes vary from opaque to transparent, depending on whether the existing interface needs sonic mystifying or edifying.

Overall, the improvisation builds a sonic edifice of mesmerizing, ever-shifting tones. From the start, distorted reed whistles, whirring string multiphonics and ratcheting percussion blows are filtered through envelopes of granulized whooshes and motor-driven buzzes. They emerge as tones that now possess both electrical and acoustic properties. These properties are put to good use as the static-infused friction engendered from the meeting of similarly unyielding objects further thickens the textures with concentrated string scrubbing, super-hard reed blows and pulsating cymbal strokes. Using protracted silences as place markers, the concentrated vibrations finally reach a climax of strident reed cries, blurry percussion turns, and single-string pops. Wriggling in different tonal directions, the piece finally resolves itself with barely-there metal scrapes and solid descending buzzes.

Concrete and fortissimo at the top, The Sealed Knot’s extended improv resolves itself in a similar fashion, but with more distinctive instrumental color from Beins, Davies and Wastell, who is also known to play cello, tam-tams, bowls and amplified textures. Here the thick strokes from his beaters join with Beins’ grating strokes to outline Davies’ tremolo string patterns that intensify and regularize as the exposition reveals air-leak inferences and buzzing reverb. As fragmented timbres are layered on top of shifting drones this extended interlude gives way to thumb-strummed string lines that are forced into silence by metal scraping friction and what might result if a constantly rotating motor was powered by the air from a Bronx cheer. Davies’ e-bow-created sustain is responsible for some of the undefined humming, while it’s likely Beins whose rim and slide scrapes produce steel-pan-like resonation. Fragmenting the dense textures in the penultimate variant, the resulting multiple thumps make it seem as if each player is vibrating a percussive surface – with variants on steel drums, temple bells and a drum kit. By the finale, the accumulated crescendo of fortissimo scratches and angled buzzing gives way to an outburst of staccato, fortissimo rubs and a final wood-extended bass string thump.

With both Michael Renkel and Beins manipulating a veritable warehouse full of string, percussion and electrified instruments on Lohn & Brot the timbres available are more varied than would be expected from only four hands. At the same time, especially on the longer tracks, additional input could have ratcheted these performances up a notch. Still the musicians’ sympathetic interaction, which dates back to the late 1990s and the 2:13 Ensemble, prevents the most egregious disconnects.

Most spectacular of the creations is “zone: produkt”. At mid-point its contrapuntal textures encompass motor-driven whirrs, resounding woodpecker-like raps, bell peals plus stretched plucks coming from a propelled zither or amplified stringboard. With each interlocking part both audible and atonal, and with the result pumping up and down in perpetual motion, it could be the sonic equivalent of an Alexander Calder mobile.

But this is just one part of the overall sound picture. Throughout the piece, complementary timbres appear then are superseded by squealed tones, granulized ruffs, jagged electronic pulses, relentless rubs or what sounds like dog panting. Eventually after a variant reaches a crescendo of harsh, flat-line pulsations, mallet pops and rubs, it then accelerates still further to reveal spinning and buzzing palindromes that change pitch, reflection and volume, but never speed. Later the contrapuntal clinks and clatters take on a Christmas bell-like rhythm of their own, only to be replaced by separated signals that are equal parts sideband power snorts and propelled cross tones.

Ingeniously where guitar-string strums and percussion ruffs would serve as a conclusion for others, Beins and Renkel instead ramp the tension up still further, concluding the duet with a block of solid sound that finally just dissipates. Shorter pieces sound rougher, if more focused. However, the CD’s other extended experiment introduces a different conception altogether: a gentling interface arising out of the confluence of cymbal sizzles, vibraphone plinks, bass string rubs and whistling trills.

Each of these CDs is a fitting demonstration of Beins’ skills and versatility. While the number of textures available multiples along with the quantity of musicians involved, the skill involved in noise-minimalist pieces like these is in preventing incoherence from overshadowing the sound strategies.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Fifteen: 1. SLW

Personnel: Fifteen: Lucio Capece (soprano saxophone, bass clarinet and preparations); Rhodri Davies (electric harp and electro-acoustic devices); Burkhard Beins (selected percussion and objects) and Toshimaru Nakamura (no-input mixing board)

Track Listing: Lohn: 1. arbeit: material 2. passage 3. zone: produkt 4. transit 5. station: prozess

Personnel: Lohn: Michael Renkel (acoustic guitar, preparations, amplified stringboard, live electronics and percussion) and Burkhard Beins (drums, cymbals, objects, table percussion, e-bowed and propelled zither, mixing desk and handheld electronics)

Track Listing: And: 1. And we disappear

Personnel: And: Rhodri Davies (pedal harp and e-bow); Mark Wastell (bass, bow and beaters) and Burkhard Beins (percussion and objects)

May 27, 2010

Sealed Knot

And we disappear
Another Timbre at23

Activity Center

Lohn & Brot

Absinth Records 017

SLW

Fifteen point nine grams

Organized Music from Thessaloniki 107

Negotiating the chasm among noise, improv and notated music is Berlin-based Burkhard Beins, who over the past decade or so has solidified his identity as a sound artist as well as a percussionist. While not for the aurally squeamish – or the traditional jazzer – there are numerous exhilarating instances of timbre blending and sound collaging among this trio of discs.

Moreover these CDs also point out the increased universality of free music and free musicians. Although Activity Center – despite the American spelling of the second word – consists of two German players, it was recorded in Berlin and released on a German label. The Sealed Knot ties Beins in with two London-based string players: harpist Rhodri Davies and bassist Mark Wastell and is on a British label. Even more international, SLW’s CD is published on a Greek label, and joins improvisers from Germany (Beins), Wales (Davies), Italy (soprano saxophonist Lucio Capece) and Japan (no-input mixing board stretcher Toshimaru Nakamura).

Perhaps it’s their relative brevity compared to those tracks on the SLW disc, or perhaps it’s duet the multiplicity of voices involved elsewhere, but single, wide-ranging improvisations from either SLW or The Sealed Knot appear more impressive than Lohn & Brot’s five duo performances. Considering that the disc’s most lengthy track is almost as long as the entire Sealed Knot CD suggests the possibility of electro-synthesis overkill in this format.

Dealing with the SLW quartet first, it’s often easiest to distinguish the unfiltered timbres of Capece’s reed here then the vibrating tessitura of any of the others’ instruments. More importantly, as someone who has partnered with such unique sound producers as tubaist Robin Hayward, Capece’s discordant diaphragm trills or chirping split tones contribute as much to creating the inchoate miasma as the repeated signal-processed drones and reverb emanating from Nakamura’s apparatus. A long-time associate of saxophonist John Butcher, Davies moderates the expected textures that emanate from his chosen instrument with the sort of devices that amplify arpeggios one moment and transform them with rasping oscillations the next. Meanwhile Beins’ percussion strokes vary from opaque to transparent, depending on whether the existing interface needs sonic mystifying or edifying.

Overall, the improvisation builds a sonic edifice of mesmerizing, ever-shifting tones. From the start, distorted reed whistles, whirring string multiphonics and ratcheting percussion blows are filtered through envelopes of granulized whooshes and motor-driven buzzes. They emerge as tones that now possess both electrical and acoustic properties. These properties are put to good use as the static-infused friction engendered from the meeting of similarly unyielding objects further thickens the textures with concentrated string scrubbing, super-hard reed blows and pulsating cymbal strokes. Using protracted silences as place markers, the concentrated vibrations finally reach a climax of strident reed cries, blurry percussion turns, and single-string pops. Wriggling in different tonal directions, the piece finally resolves itself with barely-there metal scrapes and solid descending buzzes.

Concrete and fortissimo at the top, The Sealed Knot’s extended improv resolves itself in a similar fashion, but with more distinctive instrumental color from Beins, Davies and Wastell, who is also known to play cello, tam-tams, bowls and amplified textures. Here the thick strokes from his beaters join with Beins’ grating strokes to outline Davies’ tremolo string patterns that intensify and regularize as the exposition reveals air-leak inferences and buzzing reverb. As fragmented timbres are layered on top of shifting drones this extended interlude gives way to thumb-strummed string lines that are forced into silence by metal scraping friction and what might result if a constantly rotating motor was powered by the air from a Bronx cheer. Davies’ e-bow-created sustain is responsible for some of the undefined humming, while it’s likely Beins whose rim and slide scrapes produce steel-pan-like resonation. Fragmenting the dense textures in the penultimate variant, the resulting multiple thumps make it seem as if each player is vibrating a percussive surface – with variants on steel drums, temple bells and a drum kit. By the finale, the accumulated crescendo of fortissimo scratches and angled buzzing gives way to an outburst of staccato, fortissimo rubs and a final wood-extended bass string thump.

With both Michael Renkel and Beins manipulating a veritable warehouse full of string, percussion and electrified instruments on Lohn & Brot the timbres available are more varied than would be expected from only four hands. At the same time, especially on the longer tracks, additional input could have ratcheted these performances up a notch. Still the musicians’ sympathetic interaction, which dates back to the late 1990s and the 2:13 Ensemble, prevents the most egregious disconnects.

Most spectacular of the creations is “zone: produkt”. At mid-point its contrapuntal textures encompass motor-driven whirrs, resounding woodpecker-like raps, bell peals plus stretched plucks coming from a propelled zither or amplified stringboard. With each interlocking part both audible and atonal, and with the result pumping up and down in perpetual motion, it could be the sonic equivalent of an Alexander Calder mobile.

But this is just one part of the overall sound picture. Throughout the piece, complementary timbres appear then are superseded by squealed tones, granulized ruffs, jagged electronic pulses, relentless rubs or what sounds like dog panting. Eventually after a variant reaches a crescendo of harsh, flat-line pulsations, mallet pops and rubs, it then accelerates still further to reveal spinning and buzzing palindromes that change pitch, reflection and volume, but never speed. Later the contrapuntal clinks and clatters take on a Christmas bell-like rhythm of their own, only to be replaced by separated signals that are equal parts sideband power snorts and propelled cross tones.

Ingeniously where guitar-string strums and percussion ruffs would serve as a conclusion for others, Beins and Renkel instead ramp the tension up still further, concluding the duet with a block of solid sound that finally just dissipates. Shorter pieces sound rougher, if more focused. However, the CD’s other extended experiment introduces a different conception altogether: a gentling interface arising out of the confluence of cymbal sizzles, vibraphone plinks, bass string rubs and whistling trills.

Each of these CDs is a fitting demonstration of Beins’ skills and versatility. While the number of textures available multiples along with the quantity of musicians involved, the skill involved in noise-minimalist pieces like these is in preventing incoherence from overshadowing the sound strategies.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Fifteen: 1. SLW

Personnel: Fifteen: Lucio Capece (soprano saxophone, bass clarinet and preparations); Rhodri Davies (electric harp and electro-acoustic devices); Burkhard Beins (selected percussion and objects) and Toshimaru Nakamura (no-input mixing board)

Track Listing: Lohn: 1. arbeit: material 2. passage 3. zone: produkt 4. transit 5. station: prozess

Personnel: Lohn: Michael Renkel (acoustic guitar, preparations, amplified stringboard, live electronics and percussion) and Burkhard Beins (drums, cymbals, objects, table percussion, e-bowed and propelled zither, mixing desk and handheld electronics)

Track Listing: And: 1. And we disappear

Personnel: And: Rhodri Davies (pedal harp and e-bow); Mark Wastell (bass, bow and beaters) and Burkhard Beins (percussion and objects)

May 27, 2010

Annette Krebs/Rhodri Davies

kravis rhonn project
Another Timbre at15

Rhodri Davies/Gregory Büttner

3 Harp Treatments

Anthropometrics Antro 03

Quaint and endearingly fusty like a wind-up gramophone is how the sentiments expressed in the commercial of three decades ago, which asked listeners whether the performance they were hearing was live or on tape, now seem in the 21st Century. Today all sorts of electronic fill-ins and additions have been accepted as part of everyday musical life with many a pop diva lip-synching entire performances.

Situations are much different for improvised musicians, who have been experimenting with inventive forms of electronics reproduction since long before Elvis Presley discovered studio reverb. These notable CDs, both featuring London-based Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies, convincingly demonstrate that when it comes to Free Music, it’s the attitude not the gizmos which define success. The kravis rhonn project for instance, matches Davies’ improvisations on electric harp and electronics with those from Berlin’s Annette Krebs, whose tools include a guitar, objects, a mixing board and tape. Davies’ playing partner on 3 Harp Treatments is actually himself. For the three treatments were created by German sound artist Gregory Büttner. Büttner edited and digitally processed a single harp improvisation into three separate and diverse sounding results.

Both Davies and Krebs are involved with lower-case improvisation, numbering fellow experimenters such as saxophonist John Butcher and pianist Andrea Neumann among their associates. But the three unforced, silence-studded performances here are given added resonance by the electronic equipment. Moving from an undercurrent of aural chiaroscuro, depth and translucency are added to the grainy, grey-scale textures with sampled snatches of incomprehensible dialogue and signal-processed shrills and reverb. Among the gradually swelling timbres, replication of backwards-running tapes and flat-line hisses is the interjection of genuine instrumental pulses. Envelopes of wiggling and deconstructed tones that often accelerate to a solid drone share space with thick string thumps from Davies’ harp and thinner plucks from Krebs’ guitar.

Appearing to be motor-driven at points and with staccato interludes resembling wild-animal cries, the performance ends up being circular rather than cynosure. Depleting an entire repertoire of electro-acoustic variants, following a crescendo of timbres that resemble waves lapping at the shore, the two sound sources merge as a flat-line drone, then disappear

On the other CD, Davies’ 10-minute harp improv is renovated into tracks that run from a little more than 10 minutes, to almost 13 and almost 17. Büttner uses differing chunks of the original for granulation and re-conceptualization. “Glas” – the briefest – for example, is centred on a sonic Catherine’s wheel of superimposed blurred textures and shrilling static that suggests empty tape reels flopping as it completes its circular rounds. Straightforwardly percussive, “plok” matches what could be metal being gored by an unyielding object with marbles reverberating off taut strings as well as spinning impulses that sound like cymbal strokes and bass drum pounding. Eventually the individual pick-up signals are squashed into tunnel-echoing whirrs and a climax of repeated string strokes and smacks.

Lengthened to the greatest extent, “bow” builds up to a crescendo of nearly opaque textures as backwards-and-forward running vibrations expose intense, agitated sound fields. The track begins with a flat-line murmur that eerily foreshadows the final results, then synthesizes and reconfigures pitch-shifted and grainy wave forms so that the resulting dense tessitura becomes almost overbearing. Luckily wooden-sounding ratchets and leaking hisses puncture the distended sound envelope so that the results fade diminuendo.

Using exceptional source material or showcasing cerebral improvisers who know how to manipulate electronics makes the question of live verses pre-recorded creations moot on these sessions. Individual virtues of these CDs are as much as the result of invention as the equipment used.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 3: 1. glas 2. plok 3. bow

Personnel: 3: Rhodri Davies (harp and electric harp) and Gregory Büttner (digital process and editing)

Track Listing: kravis: 1. traguar 2. jailom 3. ssronck

Personnel: kravis: Annette Krebs (guitar, objects, mixing board and tape) and Rhodri Davies (electric harp and electronics)

March 29, 2010

Rhodri Davies/Gregory Büttner

3 Harp Treatments
Anthropometrics Antro 03

Annette Krebs/Rhodri Davies

kravis rhonn project

Another Timbre at15

Quaint and endearingly fusty like a wind-up gramophone is how the sentiments expressed in the commercial of three decades ago, which asked listeners whether the performance they were hearing was live or on tape, now seem in the 21st Century. Today all sorts of electronic fill-ins and additions have been accepted as part of everyday musical life with many a pop diva lip-synching entire performances.

Situations are much different for improvised musicians, who have been experimenting with inventive forms of electronics reproduction since long before Elvis Presley discovered studio reverb. These notable CDs, both featuring London-based Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies, convincingly demonstrate that when it comes to Free Music, it’s the attitude not the gizmos which define success. The kravis rhonn project for instance, matches Davies’ improvisations on electric harp and electronics with those from Berlin’s Annette Krebs, whose tools include a guitar, objects, a mixing board and tape. Davies’ playing partner on 3 Harp Treatments is actually himself. For the three treatments were created by German sound artist Gregory Büttner. Büttner edited and digitally processed a single harp improvisation into three separate and diverse sounding results.

Both Davies and Krebs are involved with lower-case improvisation, numbering fellow experimenters such as saxophonist John Butcher and pianist Andrea Neumann among their associates. But the three unforced, silence-studded performances here are given added resonance by the electronic equipment. Moving from an undercurrent of aural chiaroscuro, depth and translucency are added to the grainy, grey-scale textures with sampled snatches of incomprehensible dialogue and signal-processed shrills and reverb. Among the gradually swelling timbres, replication of backwards-running tapes and flat-line hisses is the interjection of genuine instrumental pulses. Envelopes of wiggling and deconstructed tones that often accelerate to a solid drone share space with thick string thumps from Davies’ harp and thinner plucks from Krebs’ guitar.

Appearing to be motor-driven at points and with staccato interludes resembling wild-animal cries, the performance ends up being circular rather than cynosure. Depleting an entire repertoire of electro-acoustic variants, following a crescendo of timbres that resemble waves lapping at the shore, the two sound sources merge as a flat-line drone, then disappear

On the other CD, Davies’ 10-minute harp improv is renovated into tracks that run from a little more than 10 minutes, to almost 13 and almost 17. Büttner uses differing chunks of the original for granulation and re-conceptualization. “Glas” – the briefest – for example, is centred on a sonic Catherine’s wheel of superimposed blurred textures and shrilling static that suggests empty tape reels flopping as it completes its circular rounds. Straightforwardly percussive, “plok” matches what could be metal being gored by an unyielding object with marbles reverberating off taut strings as well as spinning impulses that sound like cymbal strokes and bass drum pounding. Eventually the individual pick-up signals are squashed into tunnel-echoing whirrs and a climax of repeated string strokes and smacks.

Lengthened to the greatest extent, “bow” builds up to a crescendo of nearly opaque textures as backwards-and-forward running vibrations expose intense, agitated sound fields. The track begins with a flat-line murmur that eerily foreshadows the final results, then synthesizes and reconfigures pitch-shifted and grainy wave forms so that the resulting dense tessitura becomes almost overbearing. Luckily wooden-sounding ratchets and leaking hisses puncture the distended sound envelope so that the results fade diminuendo.

Using exceptional source material or showcasing cerebral improvisers who know how to manipulate electronics makes the question of live verses pre-recorded creations moot on these sessions. Individual virtues of these CDs are as much as the result of invention as the equipment used.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 3: 1. glas 2. plok 3. bow

Personnel: 3: Rhodri Davies (harp and electric harp) and Gregory Büttner (digital process and editing)

Track Listing: kravis: 1. traguar 2. jailom 3. ssronck

Personnel: kravis: Annette Krebs (guitar, objects, mixing board and tape) and Rhodri Davies (electric harp and electronics)

March 29, 2010

Tom Chant/Angharad Davies/Benedict Drew/John Edwards

Decentred
Another Timbre at18

Working both sides of the fence between notated and improvised music is second nature to the four accomplished British musicians featured on this CD. The session’s powerful appeal lies in the sensitive maneuvering the quartet uses to personalize one long piece by John Cage (1912-1992) plus three short indeterminate scores by Michael Pisaro (b.1961). An added bonus is two mid-sized improvisations.

Buffalo, N.Y.-born guitarist Pisaro teaches composition at CalArts. A member of the Wandelweiser Composers Ensemble, his harmony series translates into sound that leaves most sonic decisions to the musicians. Similarly “Four 6”, the last of Cage’s number pieces, utilizes a computer program to distribute the 12 pre-determined sounds to four musicians playing any instrument.

As the centrepiece of Decentred, this 30-minute track takes some of its shape from pulses produced by the electronics and objects of Benedict Drew, a radio artist and soundtrack composer. Also on hand are bassist John Edwards, known for his work with saxophonist John Butcher; reedist Tom Chant, who plays in drummer Eddie Prévost’s free form trio; and violinist Angharad Davies, who plays with harpist Rhodri Davies.

Rattling objects plus Drew’s adagio signal-processed crackles and splutters set the scene for “Four 6”, with the exposition developed through intense, chromatic string plucks, wood-wrenching sul tasto lines and reed-biting slurs. With the instrumental voices closely packed, a sense of impending menace is advanced until interrupted by Chant’s wide, atonal vibrations. Pushing the abrasive string-scratching aside, his overblowing purposely almost drains the oxygen from the studio until a vibe-like ping and a whirligig shrill introduces a percussive variant from scrubbing strings. These continuous unison reverberations chug along until challenged by the saxophonist’s ear-wrenching split tones. The final variant regroups the strings’ strident textures with expanding electronic wave forms from Drew, which are patched in for split-seconds until the piece dissolves into silence. .

Chant’s bass clarinet figures prominently in the two improvisations, exposing altissimo whoops as often as chalumeau growls. On “Activation”, his tone repetitions bond spiccato string tugs, a patterning percussion beat and quivering signal processing. The title tune is more cohesive in its interaction. Characterized by radio-tuning static, sul tasto bass runs, abrasive treble-string responses and isolated reflective reed vibrations, it evolves with unexpected wide-screen-like characterizations. Spacious sweeps from both string players and mallet-like patterns from Drew plus counter-tenor-like parlando from Chant eventually synchronize despite Davies’ irregular shuffle bowing.

As for Pisaro’s indeterminate compositions, each is played by a different duo. Alternating intense interludes – which often expose affiliated nodes and partials – with protracted silences. Chant’s diffuse bottom-scrapping pitches impress the most.

Reflecting on the first-class work here, the strength of the tracks is a direct result of transforming improvisational freedom to notated scores.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Reader, listen: Harmony series No. 10 2. Activtion 3. Four 6 4. La voix qui dit: Harmony series No. 8d 5. Decentring 6. Flux: Harmony series No. 8a

Personnel: Tom Chant (soprano and tenor saxophone and bass clarinet); Angharad Davies (violin and objects); John Edwards (bass) and Benedict Drew (electronics and objects)

December 2, 2009

MUTA

Yesterday Night You Were Sleeping at My Place
Sofa 522

Rhodri Davies

Over shadows

Confront 16

Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Samantha Rebello/Bechir Saade

Hum

Another Timbre at04

Chamber improv of a particular sort, each of these challenging discs highlights the playing of Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies: solo or as part of a trio or quartet. Although included among the instruments featured on the discs are flutes, a bass clarinet, a trumpet and percussion, a minimal number of expected timbres are heard. Full appreciation of the sessions demands a preference for dissonance as well as unconventionality.

Recorded nearly a year apart, both group improvisations still have a tenuous connection. The title and track titles of MUTA, created with Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach and Spanish flautist Alessandra Rombolà, come from the drawings of Beirut-based trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj. A decidedly less programmatic outing, Hum links Davies’ harp and objects to the bass clarinet tones of Bechir Saade, a Lebanese improviser who often plays with Kerbaj. The other participants are British: trumpeter and electronics processor Matt Davis, who has explored microtones in a trio with cellist Mark Wastell and Davies among others; and flautist Samantha Rebello, a graduate of percussionist Eddie Prévost’s weekly improv workshops.

Providing a reductionist Euro version of near-silent Onkyo music, the seven improvisations are built up from unrelenting electronic drones from Davies and Zach, the later of whom exposes these pulsations by attaching contact mikes to his two bass drums and a gong. Meanwhile Rombolà concentrates on altissimo shrills or basso echoes from her conventional and prepared flutes.

Possibly extending his options with piezo pickups among his strings, the harpist varies his output with triggering buzzes and staccato rubs while rasping along and pulling on his string set. Throughout Davies makes common cause with Zach, whose electronic add-ons create a spinning wheel of repeated clicks, clanks and ruffs. Simultaneously and acoustically, the percussionist’s other movements produce bell peals, glass armonica-like reverberations and carefully positioned drum-top scrapes.

Between the harpist’s pitch-sliding electronic whooshes and the percussionist’s fluid friction the resulting drone undulates consistently, but with enough variation in pitch to banish sameness. Abandoning the incursion of sampled voices on one track, the sonic waves are most usually pierced by air column note clusters, stopped breaths, high-pitched whistles and trilling glissandi from the flautist.

Flute trills, blows, flutters and peeps feature on Hum as well. But the intermittent hum from harpist Davies’ so-called objects and trumpeter Davis’ electronics somewhat masks the two other oral instruments’ output. Furthermore spluttering buzzes often swell to fortissimo tones then disappear, sometimes sounding as if an on-off switch has been activated or as if a door in a horror-movie is swinging open noisily, then being quickly and squeakily closed. Foreshortened pauses are the only spaces in which the acoustic instruments can emphasize their natural timbres.

Moist tonguing from Davis produces some squeezed chromatic warbles and growling, while Rebello’s almost pan-like flute echoes open up into peeps and flutters. But both seem to have a hard time separating their tones from among the ululating mix. In fact it’s Saade’s tongue slaps, extended breaths through his horn’s body tube and key scraping that are most prominent.

Davies’ thumps, plucks and snaps are infrequently distinguishable from within the shifting, blurry electronic loops. But with this minimalistic project non-hierarchical and modest – even the tracks are prosaically named “One”, “Two”… etc. – perhaps the compression of four sounds into one constantly shifting solid should be heard as Hum’s fulfillment.

Obviously the harpist has more scope on the remaining CD, which was actually recorded four years ago. But even here, during the course of its one 36-minute track, triggered drones are as prominent as any jagged harp plucks. Throughout, his output ululates densely enough so that not only does it become an impermeable, persistent, but controlled pitch, but affiliated overtones are also sounded. Still, listening is at times the aural equivalent of watching a photograph develop in an old-fashioned darkroom. With the paper saturated in the solution, various highlights and gradations of the image appear at different junctures.

Evolving from connective organ-like sequences exposed timbres ramp up to fortissimo, pummel at lightening speed to pianissimo and finally transform into unsteady oscillations. With the end result simultaneously polytonal and inchoate, it’s as if a spectral neutral instrument and its wave forms are on show – not a harp.

By the ultimate variation, the augmented drone diminishes to a near flat-line before boomeranging back to fullness for the finale of cross-panned reverberating shrills.

Putting aside sonic preconceptions should allow any one of these CDs to impress adventurous listeners.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Over: 1. Over Shadows

Personnel: Over: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebow and electronics)

Track Listing: Hum: 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five

Personnel: Hum: Matt Davis (trumpet and electronics); Samantha Rebello (flute); Bechir Saade (bass clarinet) and Rhodri Davies (harp and objects)

Track Listing: Yesterday: 1. Hamida 2. Birds wake up, we go to sleep 3. Dead Time 4. Passing Time 5. Vertical Time 6. Coffee and Brain 7. Daylight Black

Personnel: Yesterday: Alessandra Rombolà (convensional and prepared flutes); Rhodri Davies (amplified harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion and electronic devices)

April 13, 2008

Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Samantha Rebello/Bechir Saade

Hum
Another Timbre at04

MUTA

Yesterday Night You Were Sleeping at My Place

Sofa 522

Rhodri Davies

Over shadows

Confront 16

Chamber improv of a particular sort, each of these challenging discs highlights the playing of Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies: solo or as part of a trio or quartet. Although included among the instruments featured on the discs are flutes, a bass clarinet, a trumpet and percussion, a minimal number of expected timbres are heard. Full appreciation of the sessions demands a preference for dissonance as well as unconventionality.

Recorded nearly a year apart, both group improvisations still have a tenuous connection. The title and track titles of MUTA, created with Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach and Spanish flautist Alessandra Rombolà, come from the drawings of Beirut-based trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj. A decidedly less programmatic outing, Hum links Davies’ harp and objects to the bass clarinet tones of Bechir Saade, a Lebanese improviser who often plays with Kerbaj. The other participants are British: trumpeter and electronics processor Matt Davis, who has explored microtones in a trio with cellist Mark Wastell and Davies among others; and flautist Samantha Rebello, a graduate of percussionist Eddie Prévost’s weekly improv workshops.

Providing a reductionist Euro version of near-silent Onkyo music, the seven improvisations are built up from unrelenting electronic drones from Davies and Zach, the later of whom exposes these pulsations by attaching contact mikes to his two bass drums and a gong. Meanwhile Rombolà concentrates on altissimo shrills or basso echoes from her conventional and prepared flutes.

Possibly extending his options with piezo pickups among his strings, the harpist varies his output with triggering buzzes and staccato rubs while rasping along and pulling on his string set. Throughout Davies makes common cause with Zach, whose electronic add-ons create a spinning wheel of repeated clicks, clanks and ruffs. Simultaneously and acoustically, the percussionist’s other movements produce bell peals, glass armonica-like reverberations and carefully positioned drum-top scrapes.

Between the harpist’s pitch-sliding electronic whooshes and the percussionist’s fluid friction the resulting drone undulates consistently, but with enough variation in pitch to banish sameness. Abandoning the incursion of sampled voices on one track, the sonic waves are most usually pierced by air column note clusters, stopped breaths, high-pitched whistles and trilling glissandi from the flautist.

Flute trills, blows, flutters and peeps feature on Hum as well. But the intermittent hum from harpist Davies’ so-called objects and trumpeter Davis’ electronics somewhat masks the two other oral instruments’ output. Furthermore spluttering buzzes often swell to fortissimo tones then disappear, sometimes sounding as if an on-off switch has been activated or as if a door in a horror-movie is swinging open noisily, then being quickly and squeakily closed. Foreshortened pauses are the only spaces in which the acoustic instruments can emphasize their natural timbres.

Moist tonguing from Davis produces some squeezed chromatic warbles and growling, while Rebello’s almost pan-like flute echoes open up into peeps and flutters. But both seem to have a hard time separating their tones from among the ululating mix. In fact it’s Saade’s tongue slaps, extended breaths through his horn’s body tube and key scraping that are most prominent.

Davies’ thumps, plucks and snaps are infrequently distinguishable from within the shifting, blurry electronic loops. But with this minimalistic project non-hierarchical and modest – even the tracks are prosaically named “One”, “Two”… etc. – perhaps the compression of four sounds into one constantly shifting solid should be heard as Hum’s fulfillment.

Obviously the harpist has more scope on the remaining CD, which was actually recorded four years ago. But even here, during the course of its one 36-minute track, triggered drones are as prominent as any jagged harp plucks. Throughout, his output ululates densely enough so that not only does it become an impermeable, persistent, but controlled pitch, but affiliated overtones are also sounded. Still, listening is at times the aural equivalent of watching a photograph develop in an old-fashioned darkroom. With the paper saturated in the solution, various highlights and gradations of the image appear at different junctures.

Evolving from connective organ-like sequences exposed timbres ramp up to fortissimo, pummel at lightening speed to pianissimo and finally transform into unsteady oscillations. With the end result simultaneously polytonal and inchoate, it’s as if a spectral neutral instrument and its wave forms are on show – not a harp.

By the ultimate variation, the augmented drone diminishes to a near flat-line before boomeranging back to fullness for the finale of cross-panned reverberating shrills.

Putting aside sonic preconceptions should allow any one of these CDs to impress adventurous listeners.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Over: 1. Over Shadows

Personnel: Over: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebow and electronics)

Track Listing: Hum: 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five

Personnel: Hum: Matt Davis (trumpet and electronics); Samantha Rebello (flute); Bechir Saade (bass clarinet) and Rhodri Davies (harp and objects)

Track Listing: Yesterday: 1. Hamida 2. Birds wake up, we go to sleep 3. Dead Time 4. Passing Time 5. Vertical Time 6. Coffee and Brain 7. Daylight Black

Personnel: Yesterday: Alessandra Rombolà (convensional and prepared flutes); Rhodri Davies (amplified harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion and electronic devices)

April 13, 2008

Rhodri Davies

Over shadows
Confront 16

Rhodri Davies/Matt Davis/Samantha Rebello/Bechir Saade

Hum

Another Timbre at04

MUTA

Yesterday Night You Were Sleeping at My Place

Sofa 522

Chamber improv of a particular sort, each of these challenging discs highlights the playing of Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies: solo or as part of a trio or quartet. Although included among the instruments featured on the discs are flutes, a bass clarinet, a trumpet and percussion, a minimal number of expected timbres are heard. Full appreciation of the sessions demands a preference for dissonance as well as unconventionality.

Recorded nearly a year apart, both group improvisations still have a tenuous connection. The title and track titles of MUTA, created with Norwegian percussionist Ingar Zach and Spanish flautist Alessandra Rombolà, come from the drawings of Beirut-based trumpeter Mazen Kerbaj. A decidedly less programmatic outing, Hum links Davies’ harp and objects to the bass clarinet tones of Bechir Saade, a Lebanese improviser who often plays with Kerbaj. The other participants are British: trumpeter and electronics processor Matt Davis, who has explored microtones in a trio with cellist Mark Wastell and Davies among others; and flautist Samantha Rebello, a graduate of percussionist Eddie Prévost’s weekly improv workshops.

Providing a reductionist Euro version of near-silent Onkyo music, the seven improvisations are built up from unrelenting electronic drones from Davies and Zach, the later of whom exposes these pulsations by attaching contact mikes to his two bass drums and a gong. Meanwhile Rombolà concentrates on altissimo shrills or basso echoes from her conventional and prepared flutes.

Possibly extending his options with piezo pickups among his strings, the harpist varies his output with triggering buzzes and staccato rubs while rasping along and pulling on his string set. Throughout Davies makes common cause with Zach, whose electronic add-ons create a spinning wheel of repeated clicks, clanks and ruffs. Simultaneously and acoustically, the percussionist’s other movements produce bell peals, glass armonica-like reverberations and carefully positioned drum-top scrapes.

Between the harpist’s pitch-sliding electronic whooshes and the percussionist’s fluid friction the resulting drone undulates consistently, but with enough variation in pitch to banish sameness. Abandoning the incursion of sampled voices on one track, the sonic waves are most usually pierced by air column note clusters, stopped breaths, high-pitched whistles and trilling glissandi from the flautist.

Flute trills, blows, flutters and peeps feature on Hum as well. But the intermittent hum from harpist Davies’ so-called objects and trumpeter Davis’ electronics somewhat masks the two other oral instruments’ output. Furthermore spluttering buzzes often swell to fortissimo tones then disappear, sometimes sounding as if an on-off switch has been activated or as if a door in a horror-movie is swinging open noisily, then being quickly and squeakily closed. Foreshortened pauses are the only spaces in which the acoustic instruments can emphasize their natural timbres.

Moist tonguing from Davis produces some squeezed chromatic warbles and growling, while Rebello’s almost pan-like flute echoes open up into peeps and flutters. But both seem to have a hard time separating their tones from among the ululating mix. In fact it’s Saade’s tongue slaps, extended breaths through his horn’s body tube and key scraping that are most prominent.

Davies’ thumps, plucks and snaps are infrequently distinguishable from within the shifting, blurry electronic loops. But with this minimalistic project non-hierarchical and modest – even the tracks are prosaically named “One”, “Two”… etc. – perhaps the compression of four sounds into one constantly shifting solid should be heard as Hum’s fulfillment.

Obviously the harpist has more scope on the remaining CD, which was actually recorded four years ago. But even here, during the course of its one 36-minute track, triggered drones are as prominent as any jagged harp plucks. Throughout, his output ululates densely enough so that not only does it become an impermeable, persistent, but controlled pitch, but affiliated overtones are also sounded. Still, listening is at times the aural equivalent of watching a photograph develop in an old-fashioned darkroom. With the paper saturated in the solution, various highlights and gradations of the image appear at different junctures.

Evolving from connective organ-like sequences exposed timbres ramp up to fortissimo, pummel at lightening speed to pianissimo and finally transform into unsteady oscillations. With the end result simultaneously polytonal and inchoate, it’s as if a spectral neutral instrument and its wave forms are on show – not a harp.

By the ultimate variation, the augmented drone diminishes to a near flat-line before boomeranging back to fullness for the finale of cross-panned reverberating shrills.

Putting aside sonic preconceptions should allow any one of these CDs to impress adventurous listeners.

-- Ken Waxman

.

Track Listing: Over: 1. Over Shadows

Personnel: Over: Rhodri Davies (harp, ebow and electronics)

Track Listing: Hum: 1. One 2. Two 3. Three 4. Four 5. Five

Personnel: Hum: Matt Davis (trumpet and electronics); Samantha Rebello (flute); Bechir Saade (bass clarinet) and Rhodri Davies (harp and objects)

Track Listing: Yesterday: 1. Hamida 2. Birds wake up, we go to sleep 3. Dead Time 4. Passing Time 5. Vertical Time 6. Coffee and Brain 7. Daylight Black

Personnel: Yesterday: Alessandra Rombolà (convensional and prepared flutes); Rhodri Davies (amplified harp and electronics) and Ingar Zach (percussion and electronic devices)

April 13, 2008

Broken Consort

Done
Quakebasket 24

With consort defined as an ensemble, the musicians here have chosen a particularly apt name for their band. While the two extended middle tracks features all three improvisers, track one breaks out harpist Rhodri Davies and the final track features only trumpeter Matt Davis and cellist Mark Wastell.

Considering that each player – all British – extends his instrument’s output with electronics, preparations and amplified textures that create additional pulsations and triggered sound loops, subtracting players from the trio doesn’t necessarily result in what could commonly be termed a duo or solo performance. When all three are present and accounted for, the converse is true. Vibrational and timbral pitches heard don’t necessarily give the listener any idea of the size of the group or which instruments are being played.

Indeed the variegated tints the three induce from their instruments do much more than extend expected timbres – they transform each into idiosyncratic sound sources. Spectacular enough with sticks placed horizontally between the strings turning his harp into a buzzing steel guitar, Davies’ four minutes of improv are essentially an appetizer for the full meal produced later by the three.

Davies, who often improvises with saxophonist John Butcher and pianist Chris Burn, uses the physicality of his instrument to create a foundation of resonating thumps, ratcheting contrapuntal skids and prolonged string friction. For his part, Wastell, whose playing partners have ranged from Burn to Catalan feedback manipulator Mattin and Japanese laptopist Taku Unami, excels in a combination of acoustic and electronic stratagems.

Striking, stopping and sliding along his strings he exposes complementary partials that give his sound extra resonance. At one point cylindrical turning motions appear almost visual, indolently revealing themselves as a combination of scrapes from the massed strings plus submerged sibilant breaths and growls from trumpeter Davis. Someone who spent considerable time in Barcelona playing with lower case improvisers like accordionist Alfredo Costa Monteiro and fellow trumpeter Ruth Barberán, Davis often propels air from his trumpet’s lead pipe alone to approximate the strident hiss and shimmers of electronics.

His climatic duet with Wastell highlights the most distinctive – and loudest –

examples of this style. With the cellist manipulating jagged pitches among contact mics and from preparations, the trumpeter counters with squeezed, chromatic, almost-harmonica-like split tones that grow to capillary pulses. Eventually the duo exposes double counterpoint, encompassing electric-razor-like drones in both higher and lower pitches.

In trio – and with fewer silences and pauses on tap then in the duo session –

Davis’s rubato undercurrent and Wastell’s crackling textures turn to bubbling and sucking slurs from the trumpeter and pan-flute-like whistles from the cellist. Joined by Davies’ string glissandi, the interface augments into legato chording. Repeated blunt strikes and almost corporeal spiccato from the strings make up the trio’s final timbre variation. It’s nudged to the finale by irregular pitch vibrations from the strings and air gusts from the trumpeter.

As audacious as it is absorbing, this CD of modern music isn’t for the timorous, but for those who derive pleasure from the unexpected.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Rhodri Davies Solo 2. First Davis/Davies/Wastell Trio 3. Second Davis/Davies/Wastell Trio 4. Davis/Wastell Duo

Personnel: Matt Davis (trumpet, electronics and processing); Rhodri Davies (harp and preparations); Mark Wastell (cello, preparations and amplified textures)

August 4, 2006

Sealed Knot

Unwanted Object
Confront

Davies/Hayward/Ekhardt/Capece
Amber
Creative Sources

The Cortet
HHHH
Unsounds

By Ken Waxman
October 9, 2005

Visions of formally attired symphonic types producing shimmering glissandi, or alternately of Harpo Marx manhandling the luminescent strings, remain in most folks’ minds when they think of harpists. That may be why the 47-string symphony harps or smaller 34-string Celtic harps are usually musically underrepresented except for their coloration qualities.

Welsh harp-slinger Rhodri Davies may be the antidote to all that. Born in Aberystwyth, he has played the harp since the age of seven, and was educated enough in standard techniques to easily work in the so-called classical, pop and traditional fields. Slotting himself as an experimenter, however, he’s spent the past decade investigating electro-acoustic environments, adding noise, silence, textures and abstraction to his sound through preparations, detuning, bowed and e-bowed strings. The connective thread among these discs, he’s matched with different international ensembles on each.

Unwanted Object – which begs the question of which unwanted object is being described – is a trio session with British bassist Mark Wastell, who plays cello and vibrating surfaces in other circumstances, and German percussionist Burkhard Beins, a veteran of sessions with other new minimalists such as guitarist Keith Rowe and tubaist Robin Hayward. British-born, Berlin-resident Hayward himself joins Davies on Amber, as do two lesser known players. Argentinean in Paris, Lucio Capece plays bass clarinet and soprano saxophone. Someone who studied with French reedist Louis Sclavis, he moves between improvised and notated music, most prominently with the Q-O2 Ensemble directed by violist Julia Eckhardt, who is also featured on this disc. As well as performing chamber music and in contemporary music ensembles, Belgian Eckhardt improvises with veterans of that genre such as Beins.

Davies’ long-time associate, British tenor and soprano saxophonist John Butcher is featured on HHHH, in a quartet filled out by German analogue synthesizer player Thomas Lehn, who plays in a duo with Butcher, as well as with larger bands. Fourth member is prepared piano master Cor Fuhler of the Netherlands, who leads his own nine-piece Corkestra and is also part of numerous smaller groupings.

Divorced from the other two sets, the all-strings Unwanted Object is also the most abstract. Successor to a 2001 CD on Meniscus where Wastell concentrated on cello, its four untitled tracks deal with the friction generated from the abrasions forced on cymbals, drum tops, rims, strings, tuning pegs, and the ribs, belly and sides of the instruments. Beins isn’t the only percussionist either, considering that the drone Wastell produces from his four thick strings plus Davies’ rough harp string sounds are extended with cymbals, sticks, tambourines and other metal objects.

With the percussionist’s splayed beat sometimes amplified and sometimes superseded by squealing pulses that resemble clanging bell interference and hollow tube exorcism, the three work their way to the tension-enveloped, almost 13½-minute final track. Here the oscillating cymbal shrills, ostinato bass pulses and crinkle of balled aluminum foil from the harp strings that have lurked as an undercurrent since the beginning combine and expand.

Scraped low-pitched harp string sul ponticello roughness is followed by vigorous plucks from the bass and what sound like marbles thrown against strings or gyrating on drum tops. As pulses in triple counterpoint get louder and more insistent, hissing flutters and motor-drive suggestions add a robotic presence. Finally lower case cymbal slaps and chromatic harp runs transform the scratchy murmuring into a solid mass, superseded by a coda of percussion thumps and singular chapel bell-like peals.

Elsewhere, timbre mutation distinguishes Amber from the other quartet CD, since the number of add-ons and attachments in use dwarfs the extended techniques Eckhardt adapts for her fiddle. Transforming his horns into unharmonious sound objects, Capece mixes individual extended techniques with instruments prepared with ping pong balls, water, different kind of paper, fragments of plastic bottles, analog electronic setups and other objects. As for Hayward, he twists and blocks his valves and bell in such a way that the subsequent pressure leaks give his lumbering brass unique and distinctive tones.

Scope is available for all these strategies in the more-than-32½-minute first – of two – tracks. Muted, stopped tones from sibilant reeds and buzzing valve tones join with droning string resonation to overcome a rumbling pitch and condense into a wider and more viscous sound. Together the Bronx cheer-like reed pitches and breakneck sul ponticello string sweeps accelerate into electronic-mimicking whirls that grind like the motor on a conveyer belt.

Soon the harp’s pizzicato plinks swell and are extended by abrasions and thumps from wooden sticks inserted among them. Simultaneously, tuba growls are blocked with twisted spit valves, while on the reed side, measured tongue slaps and key pops turn into strangled cries and pitches, and then coalesce into a concentrated tone block. Eventually the spherical drone is pierced by earth-shaking tuba vibrations and Capece sucking and kissing his reed. Two-thirds of the way through, a sound variation on a rolling marble – from the reedist’s body tube? – presages a quiet interlude which is then interrupted by wood-rendering string yanks that gradually reach a crescendo of rattling, scratching and shrilling uneven tones, and which are sustained by blocked-valve flatulence and mallets tapping strings for new resonances.

Inflating the capacity and impermeability of horn vibrato, irregularly pulsed spiccato motions from the strings add double counterpoint in the final section allowing the irregular pulse subsides into silence.

Wobbly string clatter, lathe-turning buzzes, cross-blown reed puffs and twisted valve redirection are the second piece’s only distinguishing features from the first. Overall though, appreciation of both it and the entire CD demands a blind adherence to the necessity of group creation.

HHHH’s four tracks showcases sonic textures no less complex or coagulated than on Amber, but the individuality of the four players is more evident. Perhaps that’s because it features some of Europe’s most accomplished free improvisers

“RH”, at less than three minutes, for instance, fades seamlessly into slide whistle textures from Fuhler preparations, as Lehn’s synth beeps and peeps, Butcher interjects lip bubbling and quacking, and Davies ratcheting textures and side slaps. When these string sounds become accompanying plinks they’re twinned by distinctive trills from Butcher’s reed.

Conversely, the saxman’s grainy resonating trills are matched with jagged harp abrasions, droning ostinato pulsation from Lehn and inside piano crunches from Fuhler on “HN”. As circularly vibrated notes from the saxophone are transformed into tongue slaps, Bronx cheers and glottal punctuation, Davies finds space to showcase splayed chromatic lines as well as rattling tambourine friction among his strings. Meantime Lehn pulsates a steady continuum of bottom scraping sputters.

All and all, the remainder of the CD appears to frame “TH”, which at a touch over 24 minutes is obviously HHHH’s centrepiece. Crinkly reed chirps and harp plinks convene with synthesizer sine waves and banjo-like internal string flails from Fuhler to begin the piece. Instructively, the scraped and buzzing harp and piano string shrills soon appear almost as oral as Butcher’s aviary twittering and irregular pitch vibrations.

Eventually, soprano saxophone vibrations soar over chromatic harp arpeggios and the keyboardist punching high frequency textures from wound soundboard strings. Not content with that, Fuhler is soon scraping both gentle sawing and broad-axe tones from the piano’s internal strings as he’s simultaneously sweeping his hands over the external keys without depressing them. Lehn responds with high-pitched, bird-like chirping, Butcher with bubbly, wet overblowing and Davies with accented patterning that sounds as if he’s striking his strings with a mallet. The marimba-like vibrations produced amplify not only the note but their overtones as well.

Virtually comping – in the jazz sense – Fuhler’s fills encourage Butcher to create intensity driven reed bites that take on Woody Woodpecker cadences and Davies’ striated cymbal to scour the harp string. As accelerated multiphonics from the soprano saxophone combine with grinding drones from the synthesizer, the effect is that of extenuated and continuous sine waves. Merged in broken octaves, Davies’ harp string battering and Butcher’s flutter tonguing define detailed absorption, until a shrill twitter from Lehn gives the instant composition concluding punctuation.

HHHH may be the primary example of the many strategies of an improvising harpist. Still each of these discs offers many characterizations of Davies’s unique and considerable skills.

October 10, 2005

SAKADA

Never Give Up On The Margins Of Logic
Antioptic AN006/LS002

MAGARIDA GARCIA/MATTIN
For Permitted Consumption
L’innomable 04

More dispatches from the electro-acoustic edge of the improv equation, appreciation of these two short CDs depends on your acceptance of pure textural sound unprettified with melody, structure or harmony – sound linked to the mechanism only available in the late 20th and 21st centuries.

With hiss and static counting as much as elaborated tones, one of the most mystifying products of the creation is that the five musicians involved in Sakada produce no more extended nor resonant tones than the two players featured on FOR PERMITTED CONSUMPTION.

Featured on one, almost 34-minute improvisation on that disc are Lisbon-based Margarida Garcia, an electric bassist and Barcelona-based computer feedback manipulator Mattin. Garcia plays with many of Lisbon’s progressive improvisers like guitarist Manuel Mota and violist Ernesto Rodrigues, while Mattin’s playing partners have ranged from Austrian trombonist Radu Malfatti to New Zealand guitarist Dean Roberts.

The Catalan also recorded a duet with British cellist/bassist Mark Wastell playing amplified textures and those three plus AMM percussionist Eddie Prévost and Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies play on NEVER GIVE UP ON THE MARGINS OF LOGIC, recorded a few days earlier than the other session. Compact to the extreme, the mini CD’s one track is barely 17½-minutes long. An earlier full-length CD by the band featured only Mattin, Prévost and Rosy Parlane on computer and radio.

Again the sound isn’t that different. Only occasionally among the accelerating hisses and sideband resonation do you pick out the odd stroke of the drummer’s cymbals and single pizzicato plucks from Garcia. Most of the track is made up of swirling interface cut by crackles, scrapes, gong-like ring modulator thumps and a peculiar buzzing intonation, sort of resembling a dental drill coming into contact with your back molars. Among the intermittent buzzes, oscillating flutters sometime increase in vividness, becoming shriller and more regular. In a performance like this, what appears to be the replication of an instrument being moved and a human coughing takes on as much significance as the other timbres.

Nearly double the length, the other CD apparently adds emissions from internal circuitry and periodic silences to the machine-like textures that make up Mattin’s repertoire. There are buzzes, rumbles, circular saw textures and what could be heard as electricity surging into a lathe or a drill bit hits wood or metal. Hard objects appear to buffet even harder objects, turntable approximation rumble, harsh waveforms pulsate, what could be a zipper movement or the reflection of footfalls appears as does breath pushed through a hollow tube and just-below-hearing-range signal shrills.

As on the other CD, a few textures can be linked to Garcia’s electric double bass. These include string resonation that could almost be a melody, a rasping sul ponticello plink and a disconnected whack that either results from hitting the strings with the heel of her hand or banging the instrument’s wooden belly.

Denser in texture than Sakada’s CD, the impression you take away is of looping and panning textures concentrating into a droning interface and climaxing with shrills from the bass amp and Mattin’s computer.

Picking sonorous textures among the overall pulse can be a good test of your appreciation of this improv subgenre. L’innomable is a label based in Slovenia so may be a bit difficult to access. But those truly involved will investigate both these CDs to measure one of contemporary music’s shapes.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Never: 1. 17:32

Personnel: Never: Rhodri Davies (harp); Margarida Garcia (electric double bass); Eddie Prévost (percussion); Mattin (computer feedback); Mark Wastell (amplified textures)

Track Listing: For: 1. 33.52

Personnel For: Margarida Garcia (electric double bass); Mattin (computer feedback)

June 6, 2005

NO SPAGHETTI EDITION

Real time satellite data
SOFA 513

CHRIS BURN’S ENSEMBLE
Ensemble at Musica Genera 2002
Musica General MG 006

Overcoming the challenge of fomenting non-idiomatic improvisations in the gray area between composition and improvisation has been a preoccupation of inclusive European musicians for the past few decades. Making that concept work in the field between electronic and handmade sounds preoccupied them in the 1990s. In the 21st Century, as these two consummate CDs demonstrate, the most accomplished instrumentalists are able to wrap all these tendencies into a program that can be performed by larger bands -- six and eight musicians are featured in the sessions here.

Xenophobes may dispute it, but another reason these performances are so memorable is that the improvisers, whether British, Welsh, French, Greek, German and Norwegian -- to rhyme off the nationalities on both discs -- have really developed a Pan European sonic sound. This mastery of the notated, improvised and electro-acoustic means that an ensemble such as the Oslo-based No Spaghetti Edition can alter its composition each time out, adding new sound sources to plectrumist Ivar Grydeland, bassist Tonny Kluften and percussionist Ingar Zach who make up the core group. Similarly Chris Burn’s usually all British Ensemble is this time filled out by French clarinetist Xavier Charles and Greek cellist Nikos Veliotis. It’s a concept that could give anti-EU British Tories conniption fits.

As a matter of fact Veliotis’ harsh cello tones, combined with the scrapes and rasps inflicted on the copper and steel strings during Burn’s inside piano forays and by Welsh harpist Rhordi Davies on his instrument, provide the six pieces with a distinctive percussive plait. Adding to the mesh, is the characteristic understated reed tones of long-time Burn associate saxophonist John Butcher, extended still further by the textures arising from the synthesizer and electronics of Mathew Hutchinson, who is often found in a New music context when not improvising with Burn and Butcher.

Take “Rotacja”, built around droning, ostinato electronics interrupted by echoing reedy buzzes from both woodwinds and rasping string swells and koto-like scrapes from the string players. Using brief silences as time-outs, these periods of sound respite are usually brought to an end by the sudden full-force smash on piano keys or cello strings plus the vociferous warbling of shrill, aviary reed multiphonics.

Except for “Qpdbqp”, an almost 8½-minute Veliotis-composed example of one dense languidly moving single tone, ensemble or Burn-created pieces revolve around grating clawhammer picking or harsh flat picking from the strings, as well as ear-splitting squeals, pitch distortions and distended mouthpiece raspberries from the oral instruments.

Never letting the listener forget for a moment that the non-reeds can be heard as metal objects, the compositions seem to revel in harshness, with instruments appearing to be beaten with whatever blunt object is available to create more sound sources. As reed chirps meld with undulating electric-motivated buzzed synthesizer tones, you can also sometimes hear eccentric scraped lines that reconstruct themselves into resonating bottleneck-like tones.

Though you would think that guitarist and banjoist Grydeland would indulge in similar outlandish techniques, neither he, Kluften, Davies nor German inside-piano specialist Andrea Neumann are that up-front in their contributions to the Spaghetti octet CD. Instead, except for some distinctive below-the-bridge exploration from the guitarist, thumps from the bassist’s sticks and rubber band preparations and characteristic inside-piano string sweeps they stay in the background. In the foreground are tones produced by Charles -- who also introduces wavering harmonica timbres where appropriate -- fellow Frenchman Michel Doneda on soprano and sopranino saxophones and the trumpet and electronics of Germany’s Axel Dörner, who also often plays with Burn and Butcher.

A mixture of very short -- five of the 12 tracks are less than two minutes -- and very long -- two are respectively almost 21 and nearly 30½ minutes each -- REAL TIME SATELLITE DATA isn’t as satisfying as the other CD. Over the course of more than 72½ minutes some of the impressive dense harmonies are dissipated. Not that the improvisations are ever less than convincing however, but eliminating the shorter tracks may have been a better idea.

Consider the more than half-an-hour in which “Who is changing places” develops. Beginning almost inaudibly, the sound field first blossoms with unidentifiable scratches and saxophone tongue slaps, tiny hollow rolls from the percussionist and oscillations and buzzes from electronics. Following an ascending line of static, undulating mouth timbres constitute themselves into snarls and scratches that resemble the panting sounds a dog makes when he wants to get outside. As the underlying programmed tone expands from just below regular hearing to slightly louder, bass fiddle power plucks meet billowing chromatic trumpet growls, interspersed with minute glockenspiel thwacks. Defining leitmotif of this instant composition is the constant circular breathing tones from the horns, distributed in such a way that you can hear the individual nose and mouth breaths that soon start to resemble a hospital patient’s oxygen tube. Finally the infirmary-like stillness is shattered by the sidewalk drill rattling of cymbals and bells and a collection of airy blown noises and reverberating growls that could signal quitting time at a metal fabrication factory.

Just as impressive, though more morbid, is the almost 21-minute “In gasping death”, which depends on percussionist Zach’s versatility. It begins brutally enough with long, sibilant reed tones, brassy chromatic trumpet runs and the snap of drumsticks. Following guitar flat-picking, bass plucks and what in other circumstances could be a whirl drum sound, repeated gagaku-like court music from bells and metals are heard. Before the bells take on regular cathedral-like cadences, it appears as if small objects are being rolled on the floor and along it, as an assembly line of electronic rumbles comes to the fore. Abrasive drum scrapes, rubbed cymbals and kettledrum thwacks break up rolling drones from the reeds and dense sine wave movements. By the end, an assembly line of buzzes, crackles and cracks from the electronic impulses and scraping reed split tones are succeeded by polyphonic human-sounding shrieks that give way to an inside piano string sweep.

Although some of the shorter tracks evidently seem to centre more on resonating furniture-moving timbres than concise improvisational extensions, taken a few at a time, they can provide pleasure as well.

Pan-European and Post-Modern at the same time, and despite some personnel crossover, the octet and sextet here provide subtly distinct and equally legitimate examples of 21st Century creativity.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Ensemble: 1. Zaczac 2. Rotacja 3. Qpdbqp 4. Strach Na Wroble 5. Kontynuowac 6. Konczyc

Personnel: Ensemble: Xavier Charles (clarinet); John Butcher (soprano and tenor saxophones); Chris Burn (piano); Nikos Veliotis (cello); Rhordi Davies (harp); Mathew Hutchinson (synthesizer and electronics)

Track Listing: Real: 1. Soon, too soon 2. In gasping death 3. Micro warehouse 4. Micro luggage 5. Micro control journal 6. Mini systems 7. Macro photography 8. Macro investors 9. Super systems 10. Who is changing places 11. Super position 12. Super opposition

Personnel: Real: Axel Dörner (trumpet and electronics); Xavier Charles (clarinet and harmonica); Michel Doneda (soprano and sopranino saxophones); Andrea Neumann (inside piano); Ivar Grydeland (guitar and banjo); Rhordi Davies (harp); Tonny Kluften (bass); Ingar Zach (percussion )

February 16, 2004

THE SEALED KNOT

Surface/Plane
Meniscus MNSCS012

PETER KOWALD/MIYA MASAOKA/GINO ROBAIR
Illuminations (Several Views)
Rastascan BRD 049

One percussionist, one musician who plays a four-string instrument and another whose equipment is strung with many multiples of strings make up both trios featured on these improv sessions. Yet despite these points of congruence, they’re as different as hot dogs and fish-and-chips, as one featured two Americans, the others two Brits.

Actually it’s the third man -- coincidentally a German -- who probably best defines the differences. ILLUMINATIONS (SEVERAL VIEWS) features the late Peter Kowald combining his bass fiddle and basso voice with Miya Masaoka’s kotos and Gino Robair’s percussion on 16 furious, roaring take-no-prisoners sound pieces.

Kowald, whose experience went back the strum und drang noise-making of MACHINE GUN and other Free Jazz explosions, was the musical antithesis of percussionist Burkhard Beins, one-third of the band Sealed Knot with cellist Mark Wastell and harpist Rhodri Davies on SURFACE/PLANE. A proponent of the reductionist style, Beins, who ironically comes from a rock background, often tries to be as nearly noiseless as possible here and is concerned more with slides, rubs and trills than any distinctive percussive displays. With his confreres working the same territory, their CD is as much a definition of improv minimalism as one could imagine.

ILLUMINATIONS (SEVERAL VIEWS) is just one of plethora of CDs that Kowald somehow presciently recorded in the two years before his death of heart failure in September 2002. Especially after his residences in Japan and the United States, he could still stoke the old Free Jazz fire if recording with veteran New Things like drummer Sunny Murray, but his versatility meant that he could adapt himself to more freeform and cross-cultural, less jazz-based sessions like this one.

On “View Twenty-one’ for instance, the bassist supplies a countermelody of plucks and the occasional arco slide to mesh with Robair’s hard kettle drum-like sounds, as Masaoka cascades resonating tones that threatens to evolve into gagaku or court music. There’s no much change of that, though, Masaoka, whose collaborators have included guitarist Fred Frith and saxophonist Larry Ochs has fashioned new timbres for her 17- and 21-string instruments so that it can sometimes sound as if she’s playing a hammered dulcimer or a strummed 12-string guitar.

This is apparent on “View One”, where her plectrum strums on the multiple strings sets are only Oriental by inference. Robair screeches bird-like with his faux daxophone and Kowald rumbles away with tugs from the bottom of his axe. On “View Twenty-two”, the longest tune, the positions are almost reversed. To the accompaniment of rolling hand drum accents, Kowald comes up with some high-pitched violin-like -- or is it biwa-like --squeals and Masaoka moves her bridge around to create wavering, descending plucks.

Still his bass continuum isn’t limited to what Kowald can play on his bull fiddle. On a couple of the tracks he vocalizes cavernous Wicked Warlock of the West tones that at times seem to suggest Bedlam murmurs as well as sonority of the evil spirits you sometimes see and hear portrayed in Oriental films. When faced with this, Masaoka’s contributions become positively cinematic, with harp-like glissandos followed by approximations of guitar flat-picking. Robair’s rhythm arrives from unselected miniature cymbals in one spot and simultaneous bass drum action and ride cymbal reverb in another.

Elsewhere it sounds as if he’s manipulating small metal bowls and bells, buzzing tones from his e-bow and faux dax, rumbling bent pressures from his conventional drum kit parts and using trash can lids as percussion helper. The last sound brings forth garbage scow tones from Kowald’s bowed bass as well.

Between ghostly overtones produced by the bassist exploring out-of-the-way pressure points on his instrument and the kotoist’s sliding glissando that moves from impressionistic legato to discordant near reverb, both string slingers push their instruments’ output far beyond the expected.

So on SURFACE/PLANE do harpist Davies and cellist Wastell, who has been quoted as saying that he “detests” the sound of the conventional cello. Davies’ sonic hates aren’t known, but his method for dealing with traditional harp sounds is even more radical. With items ranging from unpainted doll’s heads to sticks and clothes pins placed between his strings to mutate the sound, and a use of a bow and/or split-second pizz motion to express his range, the romantic, shimmering overlay you associate with the harp is missing.

The two have been expanding their microtonal string palate for years, apart and together in groups such as the one headed up by pianist Chris Burn. Yet by making their playing more utilitarian and almost post-industrial here, they fit more closely with similar electronic impulses from, Beins. He plays in similar bands on the Continent such as Perlonex with electronics maven Ignaz Schick and Phosphor with the likes of Andrea Neumann on inside piano and Annette Krebs on guitar and electronics.

Much livelier than the first number, “Plane” finds preparations helping create a harsh interface for all three instruments. Featuring an underlying electronic sine waves -- origin unknown -- Beins symbolically steps forward scratching his ride cymbal with a drumstick, oscillating tones from what could be unselected cymbals, drum tops or even tin foil, as Wastell appears to respond with heavier and harder raps against the wood grain of his cello. Among all these timbres, understated harp string plucks resonate with cathedral like-tones as items inserted between the strings vibrating them still further. An ear-splitting metallic squeal serves as the introduction to tones that resemble sounds as different as the panting of a dog, the shaking of a guiro or perhaps a pepper mill, cap guns firing and what would be tongue slaps if any reeds were present.

As a recurrent pattern of cello strokes suggests the sounds of a motor trying to turn over on a sub-zero winter day, wood-rendering impacts and electronic-assembled woodwind-like tones appear until they vanish underneath a series of shuddering strokes on the bass drum and cymbal reverberations. Then what appears to be a bell tree, metal bowls and muffled cymbals are tapped, whacked, and scratched until the sounds get more distant and fade into pulsating electronic impulses.

Not surprisingly, unmistakable surface noises make their appearance on “Surface” with what sounds like woody slaps on the cello front and ricocheting harp-string tones. As electronic preparations create static undertones throughout, aviary shrills and doorstop reverberations lead to what could be the ghostly sounds of a heavenly choir that morphs into a sharp cymbal scratch and one final string pluck.

Developing improvisations with output several decibels lower than on the other disc is the challenge Sealed Knot face and overcome. Arriving with ears and thoughts lacking preconceptions of what improv should sound like means that either CD can offer equal delectation.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Illuminations: 1. View Fifteen 2. View Sixteen 3. View Ten 4. View Twenty-one 5. View Eighteen 6. View Twenty-two 7. View One 8. View Twenty 9. View Two 10. View Eight 11. View Nine 12. View Eleven 13. View Twelve 14. View Seventeen 15. View Fourteen 16. View Thirteen

Personnel: Illuminations: Miya Masaoka (17- and 21-string kotos); Peter Kowald (bass and voice); Gino Robair (percussion, e-bow, faux daxophone)

Track Listing: Surface: 1. Surface 2. Plane

Personnel: Surface: Mark Wastell (cello); Rhodri Davies (harp); Burkhard Beins (percussion)

December 8, 2003

RHODRI DAVIES

Trem
Confront 11

Discussing how the freedom of electronics can be translated to acoustic instrumentals, AMM guitarist Keith Rowe once said he was waiting for musicians to make a breakthrough on certain instruments, citing British saxophonist John Butcher and German trumpeter Axel Dörner as having done so with theirs.

Longtime followers of experimental sounds may be able to add other names to his list, but on this exceptional solo CD it’s pretty obvious that Welsh musician Rhodri Davies has dragged the concert harp into the 21st century. Just as stylists like Dörner and Greg Kelly manipulate the trumpet to remove its most typical sounds, so Davies uses preparations, detuned, bowed and e-bowed strings to create a new approach to an instrument that goes back to antiquity.

Nationalistic enough to provide bilingual (English and Welsh) liner notes, one spur to Davies’ imagination may be that traditional Welsh and Irish ballads are sometimes accompanied by older harps that can be chromatic rather than diatonic. He has also improvised with other sound explorers, including having a longtime relationship with Butcher and associations with cellist Mark Wastell and pianist Chris Burn.

Although there aren’t many signs of the harp’s pedal action here, slaps and plucks are much more common than glissandos. Sonic output on this live concert, recorded on three different occasions in London, ranges from the near inaudibility of what could be tissue paper being crinkled, to resounding protracted buzzes that resemble bicycle gears being stripped.

Davies proclaims his individualistic approach as early as the first track, which begins with what you would swear is a trumpet blast. As “Cresis” rotates to almost nine minutes plucking sounds get doubled and expanded as an extended string drone turns into guitar-like finger picking. Mixed among the definite tones produced by the strands are those that could have come from two piccolo trumpets, a flute and banged from percussion. The ending finds the instrument converted to a buzz saw with abrasive tones shrilling until the end.

“Beres” suggests Oriental textures and silences so much so that the tone produced could come from a guzheng or another traditional, non-Occidental instrument. Alive with the whistle of high-pitched tones likely created by the bow scratching against the strings, Davies then crashes the strings full force. Probably detuning as he proceeds, he produces a hollow echoing sound, then after some e-bow scratching, a loud reverberating pluck and what is either a real cymbal sound or harp percussion.

Occasionally, throughout, there will be snatches of speedy arpeggios or perhaps traditional harp glissandos. But anyone yearning for the vaporous arches of sound produced by legions of symphonic harpist -- not to mention Harpo Marx -- are urged to go elsewhere. More common is the rasping tone that resembles furniture being moved or a large machine being scraped on concrete. At times it sounds as if he prepared the instrument by inserting sticks of various lengths horizontally between the strings. Most impressively, he seems to be able to produce these unique aural designs not only with bows, but also by merely stretching the strings back like a crossbow, or barely touching them individually for the precise grating tone.

If Davies can be faulted for anything it’s that he devotes the title track to percussion and tape. Although the execution is impressive enough, creating colored horn resonance and factory floor-spinning machine-like buzzes, why do so? Others have made that breakthrough.

TREM’s other six tracks prove that the translation of his insight is best --and impressively -- done via his harp strings. Which is why many should hear this album.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Cresis 2. Undur 3. Trem 4. Beres 5. Plosif 6. Berant 7. Atam

Personnel: Rhodri Davies (harp, percussion, tape)

April 21, 2003

ASSUMED POSSIBILITIES

Still point
Rossbin RS 007

AKIYAMA/NAKAMURA/SUGIMOTO/WASTELL
Foldings
Confront 12

Silence and the overtones associated with near silence are the guiding factors of these CDs, which both include British cellist Mark Wastell. With textural space on show and protracted electro-acoustic wheezes characterizing many of the abstractions here, neither of the two chamber-style quartets could be confused with conventional jazz, rock or New music ensembles. Neither sounds like the other either. All of which proves that there are as many variations of near silence as there are types of noise.

Part of the growing coterie of younger performers wedded to understated near-inaudibility as a style, the London-based cellist is featured here in one very familiar and another literally alien setting. Assumed Possibilities (the band) is a working group filled out by Britons Chris Burn on piano and toy piano, violinist Phil Durrant and harpist Rhodri Davies. Each of the string players has a long history with one another, having intersected in a variety of groups as well as in bands with other sonic experimenters like saxophonists John Butcher and Evan Parker and bassist Simon H. Fell.

Antithetically, FOLDINGS is a live concert recording from January 2002, which mates the cellist with three local performers at Tokyo’s Off Site gallery. Many like-minded Japanese and European musicians have improvised in this setting since no-input mixing board specialist Toshimaru Nakamura, first organized the series in 1998. Resident collaborators are customarily guitarist Taku Sugimoto, best known abroad for duets with, British tabletop guitarist Keith Rowe and Swiss computer specialist Günter Müller; and Tetuzi Akiyama on turntables and air duster, a former guitarist who concertizes with saxophonist Masahiko Okura and synthesizer manipulator Utah Kawasaki as well as Sugimoto.

To really appreciate the output on either of these discs, turn the volume knob of your playback system up, probably 25 per cent louder than usual for STILL POINT and about 40 per cent for the other disc.

During the course of the nine pieces that make up the first CD, the most identifiable sounds that emerge from the droning vibrations and textural gestures of the four are Wastell’s cello and Burns’ toy piano tinkering. On “Tyrin”, for instance, abrasive scratches on the cello’s strings and a later percussive bass line vie for sonic space with what sounds like a shrill, two-fingers-in-the-mouth whistle, a galactic screech from the violin and an unidentifiable buzzing tone.

Sharing the characteristics of a xylophone on the Wastell-composed “Related Activity”, the toy piano creates protracted glissandos and tinny keystrokes that to produce volume must have demanded more than usual finger pressure from Burns. Allied to that sound are pedal point cadenzas from the harp and intermittent cello plucks. When all the chamber ensemble strings are plinking out notes in unmatched and untempered patterns, the pianist produces a quasi-authentic clog dance on the sides and top of his veritable plaything.

All instruments here are acoustic, but somehow among the low frequency vibrations of the keyboard and the ghostly overtones from manipulated strings, the four also manage to come up with sounds that in other contexts would arise from electric instruments or at least sampling. Minimalist followers can identify when a bow takes a few swipes at a cello strings, or when a fingernail scratches taunt nylon. But surely no musician was stretching cellophane across the studio until it tore or ringing a tiny bell as some sonics suggest. Definitely too, the airplane motor drone you hear on one track, as well as the short wave radio static, police siren and reverberation of a subway train entering a station don’t result from the presence of any of these objects.

FOLDINGS, recorded almost exactly a year later, can be heard as Ur-minimalism. In fact, as the sounds on the two long improvisations move in -- and more frequently out -- of aural focus, the Tokyo quartet starts to make Assumed Possibilities sound like Grand Funk Railroad or Motley Crue. Even with a volume boost much of the first track is almost out of earshot. There’s the crackle and drone of static, indeterminate cricket-like buzzes and the whining scrapes of what’s probably Akiyama’s air duster -- at least the performance space must be lint free. Less than isochronal flick of guitar strings and fuzzy cello strokes are also sometimes heard.

With suggestions that musical movement is taking place just outside of hearing range, this sound field isn’t expanded until roughly midway through almost 29½ minutes of the second track. Wheezes and rumbles arising from Akiyama naked turntables and Nakamura’s no-imput mixing board start to move into human hearing range as does the extreme pitches produced by Wastell’s cello. Soon, what could be the sound of crickets chirping in a field is superceded by what’s likely the cellist deliberately hitting his contact mic. At last, a whippoorwill cry is succeeded by the sounds of some guitar flat-picking, a buzzing amplifier being turned on and off, and the feel of the bow bouncing against stopped strings. Textures created by a mechanized assembly line are prominent for a moment, as are intermittent string plucks and a complete chord from one of the string players. Then almost complete silence.

It may be redundant to say so, but a strong commitment to the principles of space and texture, plus an appreciation of the silences associated with microtonalism and minimalism should be brought to these discs, especially the Tokyo session. They certainly put the lie to those who characterize all abstract improvisations as noisy and ear splitting.

Whether the two groups succeed in producing microscopic sounds isn’t up for discussion here. These CDs should be heard -- if you can do so without straining you ears, that is. But the question still remains if this type of monochromic structure can’t be mixed with other sound sources to produce experimental music that offers more sonic colors along with the same intellectual rigor.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: Still: 1. Kett 2. Tronig 3. Related Activity 4. Still Point 5. Starwyte 6. Needle 7. Tyrin 8. Ut 9. Riwe

Personnel: Still: Chris Burn (piano, toy piano); Phil Durrant (violin), Mark Wastell (cello); Rhodri Davies (harp)

Track Listing: Foldings: 1. First Fold 2. Second Fold

Personnel: Foldings: Taku Sugimoto (acoustic guitar, preparations); Mark Wastell (cello, preparations, contact mic, amplifier); Tetuzi Akiyama (turntables and air duster); Toshimaru Nakamura (no imput mixing board)

March 17, 2003

IST

Ghost Notes
Bruce’s Fingers BF 28

A string trio with a difference, IST explores both notated and improvised music with a line up of cello, double bass and harp. But considering its members -- cellist Mark Wastell, harpist Rhodri Davies and bassist Simon H. Fell -- have wide experience on both sides of the divide created by music paper, there’s no disconnect when it comes to the performances or instrumentation.

It’s often said in reviews that one can’t tell where the written music ends and the improvisations begin, but that isn’t a problem with this disc. The compositions by Phil Durrant, Stace Constantinou, Gusto Pryderi Puw, Carl Bergstrøm-Nielson, Wastell and Fell are clearly labeled, as are the four improvisations. What is more noteworthy, though, is that by using extended techniques and preparations, IST pushes its acoustic string instruments to the limit to create this thought-provoking CD, its third.

The temptation is also to write that this skill and experience has propelled the British trio into the top ranks of modern string ensembles. But considering that the booklet notes are -- out of respect for Davies -- in English and Welsh, IST should more properly be called an Welsh/English ensemble.

Davies’ arco and prepared harp techniques are used here and elsewhere to give the seven-pedaled Celtic instrument a new lease on life. He has exhibited it elsewhere in sessions featuring established British improvisers like guitarist Derek Bailey and saxophonists John Butcher and Evan Parker. Davies also labors in soprano Charlotte Church’s backup group, but one suspects few advanced techniques are on display there.

Wastell, who explores extreme frequencies and pitch, plus the textural and sonic possibilities of his instrument and bow, has also played with Bailey, Butcher and Parker, as well as extensively with electro-acoustic composer John Wall. Fell, the most jazz-oriented of three, divides his time between free improvisation, contemporary jazz and chamber music. He has worked with other experimenters like Bailey, Butcher, German saxophonist Peter Brötzmann and American guitarist Joe Morris and is a founder member of the London Improvisers Orchestra.

Perhaps that’s why the improvisations here seem to have an edge over the written music. On “Fault Lines: Within Context”, for instance genuine harmonic counterpoint develops between the clicks, clanks, buzzes and pulls of the strings. Double and triple stopping are the just the beginning of the extended techniques. As each trio member seems to barrel lightening-quick from one side of his instrument to the other, new sounds are unearthed. Pizzicato movements appear to turn first into guitar flat picking then banjo frailing and finally -- from Fell -- what could arise from playing a steel-string Dobro. There are also aural suggestions that mice have taken up residence and are tearing the instruments apart from the inside.

Or take “Ust, Saif Nôs O’th Gylch” -- at more than 9½ minutes the longest piece -- and the one with the untranslated Welsh title. Almost completely inaudible in parts, even with your volume knob turned ‘way up, eventually the piece suggests ghostly sounds from far away. Soon, though, the instruments are transubstantiated into a menagerie of beasts, with mouse squeaks produced from fingers sliding down strings, aviary whistles arising from high-pitched strings and elephantine basso bellow escaping from the bass. Finally the bowed instruments begin buzzing together like the proverbial flock of bees.

Compositions call on both silence and noise as well. “Sowari for IST”, written by Durrant, is most concerned with the tension engendered by combining sine waves and thick clouds of noise. Here, the almost imperceptible timbres at the start of piece reappear throughout as sine waves intersecting with buzzes and squeaks that make up other textures. With so much happening just beyond the range of hearing, it’s almost no surprise when the track fades away to nothingness.

Fell’s “Composition No. 41 - Icons”, on the other hand, is described as an “ecstatic meditation on tonal and timbral relationship”, featuring Davies playing 77 jazz chords based on the key of C. Its genesis came in 1997, when the harpist expressed a desire to “learn to play jazz”. As Davies sounds chord positions with the regularity of a chiming clock here, the other two musicians provide eerie arco counterpoint. Mesmerizing up to the point, there’s also an unfinished feeling to the composition, as if the piece is building up to a denouement that never comes.

More challenging, plus bringing forth some of the most creative playing from Fell, is Gusto Pryderi Puw’s “X-ist”. Connected with a graphic score and written directions that certain notes and motifs must be followed, the trio is still allowed the freedom to exhibit its creativity. Words and phrases also act as creative stimuli. Here percussive tapping on the instruments characterize some of Wastell and Fell’s contributions, mixed with the two carefully plucking on each string as needed.

If the cello sometimes suggests a steel guitar, then the bass counters with straight pizzicato, while the harp supplies the underlying continuo. Often there are literal echoes of themes that have appeared before as well as tones that could be electronics-fuelled buzzes, if the presentation wasn’t completely acoustic. Finally after the bassist exhibits his highest-pitched notes, the coda features all three playing faster and looser.

IST may not fit the profile of the conventional string trio. But its performance here and the compositions it inspires, means that it definitely will be part of future of that trio grouping.

-- Ken Waxman

Mark Wastell (violin); Rhodri Davies (harp) and Simon H. Fell (bass)

January 13, 2003

Simon H. Fell

Composition No. 30.
Bruce’s Fingers BF 27

The compositions and performance of British bassist Simon H. Fell on this two-CD set may be the long-awaited physical flowering of Gunther Schuller’s and John Lewis’ ideas from the 1960s. Fell may also have taken those theories even further.

In the early 1960s, Schuller, a modern composer, French hornist and head of Boston’s New England Conservatory; and Lewis, pianist and music director of the Modern Jazz Quartet; conceived of Third Stream music that would combine elements of music’s first and second streams of classical music and jazz. They recorded a few albums and even put together a mixed jazz and classical ensemble called Orchestra USA.

Due to hostility from so-called serious musicians these experiments came to an abrupt end shortly afterwards. Faced with rock’s hegemony, non-pop music was occupied with survival for the next 20 or so years. So it wasn’t until composers like Anthony Braxton John Zorn and Muhal Richard Abrams on the American side and Barry Guy and Alexander von Schlippenbach at the European end started writing for larger ensembles that the Third Stream term again came into use.

More inter-genre contacts seemed to be possible in Europe, probably due to an interest in improvisation from younger musicians of both schools. But despite many attempts, the number of successful so-called Third Stream pieces remained small. At least that is until Fell came along. Although he would probably bristle at the Third Stream label, the bassist has for many years tried for, as he terms it, “a blurring of distinctions between jazz, improvised and classical musics”.

The more than two hours of studio-based assemblages that make up this session are his most exciting fusion yet. Not only do improvisers, a big band and a chamber ensemble interact, but considering that there are loud, speedy solos from at least three electric guitarists, elements of rock enter into the mix as well. Plus there’s also a bit of tape manipulation and transmutation.

With 42 players involved at various times the listener really does need the CD booklet, where Fell outlines his musical philosophy and how some parts of the composition, which is also subtitled Compilation III, came together. Especially valuable, due to the combinations and recombinations involved, is the jewel box insert which serves as a sort of scorecard, noting by exact time and position on each track, which musician is involved in which improvisation. Some of the improvisations are completely free; others are based on graphic or verbal suggestions. Most of the remaining music is notated.

Notated and manipulated, it should be added. For while all the parts were recorded live, the sessions took place during a four-month period in 1998 with not everyone assembled in the same place at the same time. Thus there will be portions where a musician will be soloing over the pre-recorded sounds from another section of the suite. Probably the most memorable example of this comes on “Part 3: Blues”, the creation of which Fell directly relates to the influence of Charles Ives, Charles Mingus and John Cage. With written sections suggesting Mingus’ gospel-oriented tunes, the duo improvisations were constructed in a unique fashion. Tenor saxophonist Mick Beck performed his solo while listening to a recording of the orchestra rhythm section through headphones. Synchronously Paul Hession produces a percussion program in reaction to Beck’s improvisations, but deliberately without headphones, can’t hear the rhythm section work to which the saxophonist is reacting.

Beck and Hession are merely two of Fell’s long time associates who add heft and highlights to the written composition. Another is contrabass clarinetist Charles Wharf. Often paired with a bassoonist and/or a contrabassoonist to fabricate a concrete-like bottom, when his tone isn’t subterranean, it screeches from the unwieldy instrument’s highest register. Other standouts include drummer Mark Saunders, whose solo section in “Part 4: Rhythm” with brass and string backing, allows him to ranges all over his kit, sounding crash cymbals, hi-hat, snare rims and a wood block and getting a bongo-like tone from one of his attached drums.

There’s also vibist Orphry Robinson, who is usually found in less experimental contexts. On “Construct 3”, for instance he unveils some swinging mainstream style-bar vibrations which nicely contrast with the cymbal on drumstick screeching and irregular rhythms of both Hession and Sanders. But considering that Fell is noted as playing with both men at the same time you probably wonder which sounds are live and which are Memorex. “Interlude”, also featuring Robinson, is a subdued swinger whose vibes-and-bass lilt brings to mind Red Norvo’s trio with Mingus or George Shearing’s quintets. Fell writes, perhaps jokingly, that he wrote it by applying tone row to a chorale by J.S. Bach. Since Bach’s work was also a frequent inspiration for the MJQ’s Lewis, maybe Third Stream connections assert themselves without the composer realizing it.

When guitarists Colin Medlock and Stefan Jaworzyn are given their heads, however, the results differ. In the former case screaming solos often resemble the most high-octane fuzztone creations of arena rock heroes like Eric Clapton and Alvin Lee. For the later, while his Jimi Hendrix-like firepower is put to good use, as in the composition’s very first track, by the final number his frantic jazz-rock flat picking has been framed in a context of an orchestral free-jazz blowout, almost the way Larry Coryell was integrated into Jazz Composer’s Orchestra (JCO) pieces in 1968. Unlike the JCO piece though, all this happens in the background is one episode of pretty string and woodwind laden medieval sounding music is succeeded by frighteningly intense orchestral sounds that could easily have been the soundtrack for a Hollywood suspense film of the early 1950s.

Other times soloists will step out from the big band to play at various time -- in one trumpeter’s case -- bits reminiscent of mainstreamer Clark Terry, hard bopper Freddie Hubbard or impressionistic Kenny Wheeler, introducing either brassy fanfares or delicate half-valve trills depending on the section.

Fell who at various times also contributes a Cagean interlude on prepared piano and some eccentric New music-like harpsichord, doesn’t lose his jazz bone fides either. It’s his bass line that often shapes both the written and non-written parts of the suite, while on the “Trio” track his arco sweeps match the miscellaneous percussion soundings from Sanders and tenor saxophonist John Butcher’s phrase shifting and split tones.

With further notated and improvised techniques, including a synchronous tutti, variations on a chromatic scale, a six chord fanfare and many others in use during the session’s 125 minute playing time, musical examination and explanation could go on in a review three times this length.

However to fully understand the CDs, note another question Fell once asked in an interview. “Why can’t you have great jazz, great improvisation and great contemporary classical music all at the same time?”

Why not indeed? He has certainly proven that the theorem is possible with this impressive session.

-- Ken Waxman

Gary Farr, Tony Rees-Roberts, Joanne Baker (trumpets); Paul Wright, Carol Jarvis, Matthew Harrison (trombones); Andrew Oliver (tuba); David Tollington, Tim Page (French horns); Nikki Dyer (piccolo, flute); Sam Koczy (oboe); Becky Smith (clarinet); Charles Wharf (contrabass clarinet); John Butcher(soprano, tenor saxophones); Carl Raven (soprano saxophones, clarinet); Simon Willescroft (alto saxophone); Hayley Cornick (alto saxophone, flute); Mick Beck, Kathy Hird (tenor saxophones); Alan Wilkinson (baritone saxophone); Jo Luckhurst (baritone saxophone, bass clarinet); Irene Lifke (violin); Mark Wastell, Matthew Wilkes, Kate Hurst (cellos); Justin Quinn (acoustic guitar); Stefan Jaworzyn, Colin Medlock, Damien Bowskill, Andrew Stewart (guitars); Rhodri Davies (harp); Thanea Stevens (dulcichord); Fardijah Freedman (harpsichord); Guy Avern (piano, bass guitar); James Cuthill (prepared piano); Opry Robinson (vibes); John Preston (bass);Simon H. Fell (bass, prepared piano, harpsichord); Paul Hession, Mark Sanders (drums)

January 13, 2003

APARTMENT HOUSE

Cornelius Cardew: chamber music 1955-64
Matchless MRCD45-CD

Alongside his status as important modern British composer Cornelius Cardew (1936-1981) was probably one of the few outrightly romantic figures in 20th century contemporary music. Darkly handsome in a Bohemian fashion, Cardew began his career with a Royal Academy of Music education than a period as assistant to Karlheinz Stockhausen. Later more attuned to the ideas of John Cage, he was soon turning out graphical scores, and was for a period the chief link between the more radical European composers and musicians with their American counterparts. At the same time he was a founding, although short-lived, playing member of the seminal free improv group AMM.

This wasn’t enough however and late in the 1960s he organized The Scratch Orchestra made up of full and part time musicians, who were also involved with interpreting charismatic Cardew’s increasingly left-wing political scores. Subsequently denouncing his earlier compositions as bourgeois and too abstract, Cardew’s later work became simplistic and functional, especially after he helped found the Revolutionary Communist Party of Great Britain in 1979. His death two years later, as the result of a hit-and-run accident, was deemed suspect by his political fellow travelers.

Still, the real tragedy, like the premature death of John Coltrane during an equally-searching period of his career, prevented us from knowing how the music of Cardew, who had already affected a rapprochement with AAM just before he died, would have evolved in the future. Certainly the supposition that he could again equal his earlier brilliance was very much in evidence.

The thought-provoking material, performed on this CD by the shifting personnel of Apartment House, the experimental music ensemble, for instance, deals only with his chamber work, written in his pre-AAM, pre-Communist period. It ranges from student studies to full-blown, graphical scores and is as notable for its variety as its individualistic maturity.

Cardew was no Mozart, however, as the earliest pieces here show. Despite the difference in instrumentation, both suffer from the sort of sombre seriousness you associate with concert hall classicism. It isn’t what the booklet notes refer to as “fragmentary elusiveness” which sabotages them, but the hushed reverence that seems to infect its performance. Note perfect rendition of the tiniest detail of the scores appears to be all that is demanded of the trumpeter and string players involved.

The other major criticism which can be directed at this CD, and by extension the composer’s work -- is its lack of humor or even levity. Considering that Cardew ended his life affiliated with Maoists, a group never known to have made any contribution to night club stand up, sit-coms or come to think of it, the dissemination of witty epigrams, this doesn’t come as much of a surprise. But considering humor of the broad or subtle type has been an important construct of the work of most of the greatest exploratory musicians, its absence is felt.

Happily, the work here created by the mature composer -- the last was written at 28, the age at which Jimi Hendrix died, after all -- show a steady mastery of indeterminacy. They’re the sort of compositions that could easily fit among the creations of contemporary avant-garde, so-called serious musicians and free jazz oriented improv experimenters.

“Material Version I” and the extended “Material Version II” are especially striking in that the singular piano trills and glissandos, electronic interjections, prepared piano excursions plus protracted churchy organ continuo and vibrato coalesce into a package of pointillistic sonorities.

On the other hand, the sparse “Solo With Accompaniment” -- a more obvious title is hard to imagine -- utilizing humming, broken cello thrusts and split second guitar variations, actually sounds like the sort of structure Cardew would explore as part of AMM a couple of years later. Meanwhile, the ensemble’s treatment of “Octet ’61 for Jasper Johns”, which puts scratched and off-pitch wrenched cello yanks in concert with arco passages, appears to be as futuristic as it is contemporary, with the original score’s overlaid, embedded numbers used as a basis for improvisation. Without knowing the composition date you could easily confuse it for a brand-new piece created by one of those semi-composed/semi-improv organizations like Klanforum Wien or the TonArt Ensemble.

All told this 74 minutes plus of music serves as the perfect introduction to a modern musician from arguable his most interesting compositional period. With too many so-called classical ensembles caught up in bi-centennial, tri-centennial and by-rote performances of souvenirs of the past, it also shows how much fresh music there is to investigate.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Solo with Accompaniment (1964) 2. Three Rhythmic Pieces for trumpet and piano (1955), Movement I 3. Movement II, 4. Movement III 5. Autumn ’60 (1960) Version I 6. Material (1964) Version II 7. Second String Trio (1955) 8. Piece for Guitar (for Stella) (1961) 9. Material (1964) version I 10. Memories Of You (1964) 11. Autumn ’60 (1960) Version II 12. Octet ’61 for Jasper Johns.

Personnel: [collective personnel]: Marco Blaauw (trumpet); Andrew Sparling (clarinet); David Ryan (bass clarinet, piano); Gordon MacKay (violin); Bridget Carey (viola); Sarah Walker (piano, prepared piano); Dave Smith (prepared piano, melodica); Tania Chen (piano); Robert Coleridge (organ); Michael Parsons (electronic keyboard, conductor); Alan Thomas (guitar); Rhodri Davies (harp); Anton Lukoszevieze (cello, conductor, director); Simon Allen (vibraphone, marimba)

March 15, 2002

CHRIS BURN/JOHN BUTCHER/RHODRI DAVIES/JOHN EDWARDS

The First Two Gigs
EMANEM 4063

Good things often come in small packages.

A vest pocket version of the octet/nonet Ensemble, British pianist Chris Burn has been leading on-and-off since 1984, this quartet on its maiden voyages seems more focused than the larger group, perhaps because each of the musicians has to assert himself even more in a more compact situation.

Recorded in two different London clubs in sessions four months apart, to be honest, the performances here don’t sound at all like that of four musicians groping towards a common modus operandi. Perhaps it’s because each has some sort of playing experience with at least one of the others.

John Butcher, acknowledged as one of improv’s paramount saxophone explorers, has been associated with Burn and Ensemble since the late 1970s. Welsh harpist Rhodri Davies is another member of Ensemble and has recorded with the saxophonist on other occasions. And John Edwards may be the busiest free music bassist in London, having recorded with the likes of pianist Veryan Weston and saxophonist Evan Parker as well as Butcher among many others.

Thus all that really appears to be needed in these six longish tracks that run from 6½ minutes to a little more than 16 minutes is for the musicians to find a comfortable place, unpack their axes start playing. United in their singularity, each seems to pride himself on producing the most unusual and hithertofore unheard sounds from his instrument.

Not that novelty for the sake of novelty is being indulged. Instead, to mix a metaphor, the four see (hear?) their instruments as blank canvases on which they can project any innovative and fresh sound they want, regardless of how the instrument is supposed to sound. Identifying the source of one tone or another then becomes the listener’s challenge, with some easier to classify than others.

Sometimes, as on “The Remove”, Butcher will produce enough echo himself to make it appear that he’s improvising in a hollow cistern or long tunnel, while “Souvenir de Docteur” begins with what sounds like Edwards sawing his bass in half. In the same piece Burn appears to be playing on prepared piano strings, unlike the misnamed “Low Standard” -- it isn’t -- where you wonder whether the percussive tones arise from the pianist or the harpist.

Elsewhere, as on “High Standard”, Butcher supplants his aviary whistles and chicken clucks with a session of billowing trills, then uses circular breathing to hold one note and its resulting overtones for a protracted period as the string section bows and wiggles around it.

Summing up all that comes before and goes afterwards, “Scharlachglut”, the longest track, has time to develop from a low-key interlude to a louder, speedier mid section before fading to silence. As it develops, metallic scratches give way to what appear to be someone -- perhaps Davies -- seemingly scrubbing clothes on a washboard. For luck, or just color, Edwards begins to knock on the wood of his bass, while the clank of foreign objects announce that the piano has been prepared for a percussion function. Introducing soprano reed quacks, the saxophonist joins Burn in duet, while something that resembles the sound of grain being rolled around on the table enliven the keystrokes. With Butcher alternating among vibrato-reed kisses, key pops and subterranean tongue flutters, Edwards plucks a short counter melody.

Now that Burn and Co. have put together an Ensemble that’s compact enough to be cost-effective for notoriously cash-strapped avant music presenters, hopefully the four will play many more than these first two gigs. That way we can hear many more remarkable CDs like this one.

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Low Standard 2. High Standard 3. The Remove 4. Scharlachglut 5. Russelliana 6. Souvenir de Docteur

Personnel: John Butcher (soprano and tenor saxophones); Chris Burn (piano and percussion); Rhodri Davies (harp); John Edwards (bass)

January 15, 2002