MAYA BEISER: NEW YORK CELLO
Kings Place, London, Fri 10th Feb
Cellist Maya Beiser was a founder
member of New York based contemporary music ensemble Bang On a Can
All-Stars, here playing solo. (The parent outfit still exist, and played London five years back.) As the programme looked
interesting and I am known to like a good cello, I thought to happen
by.
The folk singer June Tabor once stated
that her talent was singing, so when it came to songwriting “I just
ring up Richard Thompson, it's easier”. Beiser would seem to do a
similar thing with composers. Three of the other All-Stars founders –
Julia Wolfe, Michael Gordon and David Lang – were composers in
their own right, and in the programme notes Beiser wrote of the
interplay which occurs when compositions are written for specific
players. I didn't know, until she mentioned seconds before launching
into it, that Steve Reich's 'Cello Counterpoint'
was also written for her. (In fact the programme featured only one
non-New York based composer, the Argentinian Osvaldo Golijov.)
'Classical' music is often assumed to
spring fully formed from the mind of the genius savant, with the
musicians merely assigned parts. But can't composers and musicians
work within scenes, like rock music can? Isn't hearing a piece by the
intended player the thing to do? Like hearing the Mothers of
Invention play Frank Zappa? Certainly Beiser's spirited work-through
of 'Cello Counterpoint' was stirring stuff.
If the gig was solo only for one piece
was it unaccompanied, with the rest using at various points vocals,
electronics, loops, multi-track recordings and film projections. One
feature was how the projections worked so seamlessly with the music.
'Cello Counterpoint' for example is one of the
Reich works where the musician plays over pre-recordings of
themselves, here handily demonstrated by seven pieces of video
evidence, lined up (according to the programme) “Warholian style”.
While Gordon's 'Light is
Calling' was essentially a collaboration with Bill
Morrison's visuals, effectively a sequel to the eerie and enthralling 'Decasia'. Warped electronics played
alongside sonorous cello strokes, just as Morrison played warped and
distressed footage from an old film – images appearing through the
psychedelic corrosion, then dissolving again. At first it seemed that
the sound and sight were perfect metaphors for one another, the
electronics fuzzing the clear cello lines, but as the piece went on
they seemed to overcome separation and morph together.
Wolfe's 'Emunah'
featured etherial chanting, provided life by Beiser. I can find this
sort of thing New Agey, so it perhaps wasn't my favourite Wolfe work.
(That may be this.) Yet as with Gordon's electronics they made an effective counterpoint
to the deeper, earthier cello sounds. I especially liked the ending,
after the vocals faded out for a low bowed hum, verging on a drone.
'All Vows', the
second Gordon composition, though not the longest piece was the album
track of the evening. It not only featured solo cello but kept to a
low range, taking a simple musical line and giving it quite subtle
variations. Yet if it demanded close listening it certainly repaid
it.
Lang's 'World To Come'
was written shortly after the Twin Towers attack, but rather than a
political response felt more existential. (Perhaps an understandable
response to something like that hitting your home town.) The
programme described it as “a kind of prayer”, and it was
accompanied by a video by Irit Batsry focusing on water, a kind of
matter without form. Creation, as the saying goes, is not a noun but
a verb – an ongoing process.
Formally it was almost the opposite of
'Cello Counterpoint', cello and vocal phrases were
looped as rich and resonant textures over which the 'live' cello part
played the lead. The movements were ably matched by the video.
Strongly rhythmic bowing was accompanied by fast pans across
glistening waterways, a slower and more ethereal section by close-ups
of rippling surfaces, and finally churning and frothing.
If stepping back for an encore seems
more a rock music tradition, then Beiser surprised at least me with
versions of 'Kashmir' and 'Back In
Black' - surely any sensible person's favourite Zeppelin
and AC/DC numbers. A constant guiding principle of Bang On A Can has
been that rock music can be a source of inspiration, not just through
taking elements from it but it's spirit. And what
worked was they way these were not re-transcriptions for a more
classical idiom but proper rock outs, with bow strings fraying.
(Essentially the cello took over the function of lead guitar and
vocals.)
Oddly, however, Bach's 'Air On
a G String' was sandwiched between them. Which was not only
a rupture of mood, but came to feel a little self-consciously
eclectic. And I don't see how you can say, as Beiser rightly has, “all these boundaries we're created [are] so
unnecessary” and then slap yourself on the back for audaciously
mixing it all up. (To be clear, I enjoyed all three pieces, the
problem was the programming.)
'Light Is Calling',
albeit not from London...
AARON DILLOWAY
The Hope & Ruin, Brighton,
Sun 5th Feb
It's often said that noise music is the
punk of today. And true enough it's one of the few music scenes to
remain underground, not to be heard flogging designer jeans for
middle-aged waists. But more to the point, it exhibits both the pros
and cons of punk of old. There's no more learning two chords to form
you own band, you can do it just by plugging in a laptop. But, as
those of us who recall the hardcore scene of old can attest, anyone
can do it is both boon and curse. There's a whole lot of bad
electronic noise out there, pressbutton rage in a quite literal
sense. But then the rest just makes it all the more important to
track down the best...
Dilloway is formerly of noisemonger troupe Wolf Eyes. I would gather he was in the UK touring
with Genesis P Orrdige, but was tonight solo. His set comprised a
contact mike he placed in his mouth and, at one point, a long horn of
what variety I do not know. But (from what I could tell) all the rest
consisted of tape loops, treated, manipulated and overlapped.
And yet though that means the sounds
were mostly pre-prepared there was something quite genuinely out of
control about the set. Dilloway was like a Prospero who'd unleashed
the storm on himself, elemental forces he was barely able to
marshall. Unlike most electronica artists who barely move, he'd twist
and convulse as though possessed by the music he himself was making.
And yet again, despite being for this
sort of music a lengthy set (the best part of an hour) there were no
longeurs, or klunky switches between sections. If it was like
watching a man trying to conduct the weather, which it pretty much
was, the success rate was surprisingly high. Several times it would
build and build in intensity, breaching every barrier you had
imagined existed, then suddenly breaking off into a new tangent.
I don't think there's much of a
philosophy behind or real-world analogy to be applied to Dilloway.
You're not supposed to think about urban alienation, commodity
fetishism or Trump or whatever. (And in fact a night off having to
think about the orange abhorrence is to be welcomed.) Which I suppose
is the point, that he's found a way to say something which couldn't
be said any other way. Which makes him a true original.
Here's a completely different set. It's
all good...
'RAY LEE: SIREN'
Attenborough Centre for the
Creative Arts, University of Sussex, Falmer, Fri 1st Feb
I knew almost nothing about this sound
installation event from ”award-winning sound artist and composer” Ray Lee, except it was attached to a
Stockhausen festival. (Which it turned out to have almost nothing to
do with. But sometimes you need to go with your instincts, and
sometimes they even work.
A series of sirens attached to
revolving poles are switched on one by one, emittting pitches
matching the height of their stands. As the sound starts to build up
it first resembles the venue's description of “pulsing electronic drones” but transforms as it builds up into
the electronic equivalent of pealing bells. The only other variant
employed was occasional adjsutments to the spin speed, and yet the
combination was richly resonant and quite mesermising. Who ever knew
sirens could sound so serene? Certainly it brought up the alternate
meaning of the term, a captivating sound source which draws you in.
Cool things about the event included
the way it built up from a simple premise into a rich tapestry; the
'wires out' presentation, all processes on open display: (relatedly)
the way the guys working the sirens seemed more workers or road crew
than musicians or performers; your being encouraged to wander the
space, effectively remixing the sound in your ears as you moved; and
the way it didn't rely on the audience being smart or sophisticated,
but merely open to what was going on. But perhaps best of all they
way it was experiential, in our YouTubeable world it was something
you had to be there for.
JAH WOBBLE'S INVADERS OF THE HEART
Con Club, Lewes, Thurs 26th Jan
Last time I saw Jah Wobble, as you might recall, I was
much taken by much of it but found it at times straying too far into
muso/fusion territory. This time he has a new album, 'Everything
Is Nothing', which is essentially jazz fusion. (Improbably
featuring Youth from Killing Joke and Nik Turner from Hawkwind. I
bought a copy, played it once and probably will never again.) The
trumpeter of that album (Sean Corby) has joined the line-up,
improbably sporting a folded hankie in a smart jacket pocket, and at
times they now even go in for relay soloing.
And yet, contrary soul that I am, I may
have enjoyed this gig more than the last one. And I think that's down
to having less of an emphasis on your actual songs,
with the ones which survive counter-intuitively relegated to the
second half of the set. The only Public Image song remaining is
'Public Image' itself. (Unless you count
'Fodderstompf', of which only the hook and
one-line chorus are kept.) The songs that stay are mostly from the
original Nineties Invaders of the Heart.
Which is really the band playing to
it's strengths. As a singer Wobble is a great bass player, and the outfit simply work best not boxing themselves into song structures but
spreading out. Besides, Wobble's patented patter between songs keeps
the audience interaction flowing. (After one interjection the drummer
bashed a cymbal.)
And the trumpeter's role proved
positive. Rather than a wild card he became a calm card, pouring like
cooling water over the more active bass and drums, and preventing
everything getting too frenetic. I'm not sure many will have
previously asked themselves what 'Socialist' would
sound like with a cool jazz trumpet break in the middle of it, but
the answer is surprisingly positive. Perhaps it worked through
sparing use, Corby stepping to the back of the stage when not at
work. You don't play all your cards at once.
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