By David Cristol
From March 28 to 30, the 2024 edition of (Ne)poslušno / Sound
(Dis)Obedience took place in Ljubljana, in the Španski borci cultural
center housing different rooms for rehearsals and performances, a bar,
terrace and records stand, in the center of Slovenia’s capital.
Programmed by musician Tomaž Grom – who also operated as a good-humored
and entertaining MC throughout – the festival is produced by the Zavod
Sploh organization, dedicated to sound performance and associated
research, education and publishing (through a record label) of acts
that fit under the “free improvised” or “creative music” monikers, with
co-producers including the Zavod En-Knap dance company and support from
the country’s Ministry of Culture and the City of Ljubljana.
It was a long trip to Ljubljana, and an even longer and adventurous return
journey, through soulless and nondescript “landscapes” of concrete from
France to Slovenia through Italy, before reaching the destination in the
nick of time for the opening show. Forget all the hassle: from the first
notes emitted, the fest appeared as an islet of sanity in a crackpot world.
Small-sized it may be, but heavy and consistent in content. A relaxed
atmosphere prevailed in the full house, and the ever-mindful audience was a
welcome bonus (the idea of producing a mobile phone to film or photograph
didn’t occur to anyone; while official photographers were doing their
thing). I hadn't attended a mostly improvised music fest in quite some time
and it felt like a welcome change of pace, even a return to my beginnings
in music reviewing. Whether one likes a particular project or not,
integrity was a thread running through every act, with logistics to match
and an easygoing aspect to the proceedings. Nine concerts were presented to
audiences over three evenings.
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| All photos by Marcandrea |
Opener
DARA Strings is an all-women string quartet
consisting of two cellos (
ElisabethCoudoux,
Isidora Edwards) and two violins
(
Biliana Voutchkova, Joanna Mattrey), the players coming
from modern classical, composed works, improvisation, electronics, each of
them boasting an impressive list of collaborations, releases, commissions
and performances: musical partners include Susana Santos Silva, gabby
fluke-mogul, Camila Nebbia, Andrea Parkins, Frances-Marie Uitti, Pascal
Niggenkemper… The show appeared as a combination of composition and improv,
probably more of the former than the latter. No scores in sight but
rhythmic or motivic cues delivered by one cello and small speakers on the
floor sending pre-recorded landmarks directing the process. Other devices
included rubbed paper on the strings and wood on the part of Coudoux, and
bowing, plucking and strumming from the homogeneous ensemble. Voutchkova
appeared as a leader of sorts and at times whispered in a timbre close to
the strings’ own. What we heard was a kind of considered ritualistic seance
rather than a bristling improvisation set, although extended techniques
were put to use at most times, resulting in sounds of creaking metal to
birds chirping and other twisted effects. Often it was hard to discern who
was doing what, and that didn’t matter as the point seemed to immerse
oneself into a teeming underworld, of flying and crawling creatures and
other lifeforms of various sizes, textures and dwelling places.
Next was a trio of Luka Zabric, Margaux Oswald, Aurelijus Užameckis,
for some “traditional” improv if there is such a thing, from piano, bass and alto sax. A bustling intro swiftly led to silence,
then fluttering on the alto began a cautious process of layering clatter,
Oswald adopting an opposite approach to the wild surges she displayed at
Lisbon’s Causa Efeito fest last year. Cardboard objects were inserted in
the sax bell, and that instrument as well as the bass probed at their
furthest reaches, producing vibrating harmonics and dissonances outside of
the ways taught in schools. The unbroken performance opened up to unbridled
pianism, rapid, swarming climbs following the oblique explorations. The
power was felt throughout, but restrained. Every strike, breath, stroke was
charged with inner intensity and optimal focus. The trio embodied a complete
commitment to listening and reacting in real time, that produces the best
results in that genre. Constantly on the edge, a music of the threshold,
perched between sound and silence.
Sabine Vogel and Emilio Gordoa’s "LandStages/Sonic
relocations" premiered the year before in Berlin.The
multimedia 50-minutes piece included video projection and was presented as
a love letter to natural environment, stemming from a desire for the great
outdoors after the infamous lockdown(s) of not so long ago. Gordoa made use
of the drums, vibraphone, electronics and mixing desk, while also appearing
onscreen, in the middle of a field for example, presenting us with a double
image of the artist. Vogel played clarinets, flutes and small percussions.
On the screen, we see a large valley swept by the wind, dead leaves, earth,
blades of grass, a big tree and other static shots while electronically
treated flute and percussion are heard. Likewise, wooden flutes are
suspended from the metal flute as played in the room, while onscreen the
same flute is hanging from a branch, swinging in the air. Maybe the video
had a distracting effect, because musically I didn’t find the piece to be
particularly compelling, nor did it leave much of a trace in memory. A
reason to rejoice, anyway, is that some people are trying to bring back a
sense of contemplation and wonder to a world in sorrow, musicians among
them.
On Friday, the trio of
Taiko Saito (vib), Jan Roder (b) and Michael Griener (dm) ushers in the
evening. Usher is not quite right as listeners are hurled without delay
into a whirlwind of high-octane improv.
Which comes almost as a shock as our host primarily proceeded to a plastic
nose flutes distribution to all audience members, with successful and
not-so-successful attempts by everyone at playing it, a moment of hilarity
from all. Back to our trio. I had enjoyed Griener with Christian Weber and
Ellery Eskelin on an old jazz repertoire onstage and on a corresponding
album on Intakt. Here we have fast improvised music, with a sense of flow,
the trio running at full steam for most of the time, with huge conviction.
If every effort is made to avoid making "music" in the sense of
predetermined forms or predictable patterns, the trio’s instrumental
mastery is obvious, even in a style where virtuosity is rarely the point.
The fortissimo approach means that mallets and cymbals fly dangerously
before spilling on the floor. Textures are also a major part of the
proceedings, with tiny bells from Saito, bowing on the vibraphone blades,
and odd tools used by Griener, while Roder relentlessly fuels the engine.
Jaw-dropping unaccompanied solo features from each member bring even more
twists to the busy affair.
We’re directed downstairs for Chris Pitsiokos’solo
piece in quadraphonic sound, and invited to sit around him and his
apparatus. The one-man-band of computer + sax + pedals + flickering lights
had much in common by Julien Desprez's projects, which Pitsiokos admits to
having taken some inspiration from. The artist appeals to photographers to
remain calm. No need to fret, as most of the piece consists of massive
noise à la Merzbow, with high-pitched sax shrieks to boot. Hard to tell
what's improvisational and what comes from preparation, as Pitsiokos seems
to follow the diagrams on his computer screen quite closely. Phrases are
looped so as to form a rhythm, and squawks trigger the lightbulbs with
varying speed and vehemence. A full-on assault on the senses, a test of
endurance maybe, that not everyone in the audience is ready to confront,
even with ears protected. Ten minutes in and the door of the windowless
room opens for some people to exit. In the first part, no more than three or
four notes were drily ejected from the instrument. In the next part, on the
contrary, long notes were superimposed on each other. Can't say I enjoyed
it, but am sure enjoyment wasn't the purpose here, and rarely is it art's.
In her duet with
Joke Lanz (originating in a trio with Michael
Vatcher)
, Sophie Agnel offers a different aspect of her work than that
heard last year in the contemporary-tinged six-piano band Pianoise and
the long-running free jazz trio with John Edwards and Steve Noble. The
fun factor is more immediate with turntablist Lanz (of noise-industrial
project Sudden Infant), although it may be a side effect of
the combination of piano and turntables, and of both the visual and choppy
characteristics of the latter equipment. Agnel plays on the whole
instrument as she is prone to do: motivic patterns and clusters on the keys and striking the wooden frame (with a yet-unseen repeated
lightning-fast closing-opening of the keyboard lid!), more often than not
standing bent over the strings, with self-made tools applied over them,
whether caressingly or vigorously. We’re hearing a cut-up aesthetics with
scratched blasts reminding of cartoons’ rapid-fire honks or even
advertisement’s sloganeering strategies. It’s not all stop-and-go though, and we are treated to some moments of aggregation, due to Agnel’s ability
to catch anything thrown at her and make it sound good. A contrasts-based
performance, just the right side of theatricality, a mostly jolting set
rather than an idea of continuity here. Having reached a climax, Agnel
slows things down a notch. Not for long, as the last minutes see Lanz play
with ultra-rhythmic LPs (likely drum’n’bass beats) with enthusiastic
prowess, Agnel hitting the lowest keys with floor-crunching vigor, before
they jointly decide to end their run with a burst of laughter.
The last night opens with a concert by the participants to the New
York-born, Berlin-based Chris Pitsiokos workshop, not playing here but
introducing the set and being a watchful coach.
About fifteen musicians took part in a 3-hour a day workshop, with fruitful
results judging from the evening’s music. Nine short pieces are played by
small ensembles (mostly trios and quartets), swiftly assembling and
dismantling, with some recurring players along the way. A little bit like
Derek Bailey’s Company split in short sections rather than long form, the
balance between players not threatened and the sounds leading the way in
satisfactory fashion, whether it’s a tenor/sax/synth trio, a more
aggressive soprano/elg/dm trio or a relatively gentle quartet of two basses
and two vocalists. Musicians both seasoned or barely in their twenties
achieve convincing song-length sets. The nose flute even makes an
appearance.
This was followed by the most attention-commanding set courtesy of
Lê Quan Ninh’s solo performance. A single bass
drum stands in front of the musician, surrounded by a number of tools and
devices, wooden, metallic, mineral and earthy, on the floor or attached to
the frame. The utmost effects are reached by the simplest means and
awe-inspiring focus on the part of the artist. Stones are hit, one blow at
a time, while he moves about space. It's all about the sound projection.
Intensity never flags, and the artist resembles a painter, the assured grip
of the hands on the objects he pushes on the drum skin an integral part of
either the thunderous rattle or soft rumor thus obtained. In the darkened
room, the white circle of the drum skin can also evoke an ice-skating ring
over which the fingers are dancing. Huffing on shaken cymbals also delivers
a mighty murmur, as does the bow played against the frame of the drum.
Mesmerized, musicians and audiences were curious to ask Ninh about his
approach to playing. He certainly garnered new admirers that evening.
Don’t search for their album, it hasn’t been recorded yet.
matter 100
is a project of Slovenia’s Kaja Draksler and the same band
(three women and three men:
Draksler, Lena Hessels, Marta Warelis, Andy Moor, Samo Kutin, Macio
Moretti
) and instrumentation that played at the latest edition of Berlin’s
Jazzfest. They haven't reconvened as a sextet since, only benefiting from
partial rehearsals, due to geographical dispersion. Their next gig will be
at the Unerhöert festival in Zurich in a few months. The same repertoire,
with slightly modified arrangements and a different song order, is
presented. Spectators on the floor lie down in various positions, on
cushions spread with that purpose. A richly layered music, that makes
heterogeneous elements (rock rhythms, Vocoder vocals, electric guitar punk
toiling, droney hurdy-gurdy, spoken word, live sampling), cohere and serve
the common work. Hessel's voice is both fragile and confident, maybe
reminiscent of Karen Mantler, on a repertoire of wildly original and
unformatted songs. Moretti knocks his drumsticks together, getting up and
moving away from the stage and exiting into the corridor and out of sight,
where he continues to maintain a rhythm for a while. On the lengthy "True
or false", Andy Moor's answers to Hessel’s questions are hampered by a
mixing that doesn't always allow to grasp the lyrics. While the tune's
humorous dimension made its mark on the audience in Berlin, the feeling this
time is different, the absurdity of the words taking a darker aspect, tragic
even. This change in perception was perhaps due to the physical distancing
of the group, placed at the back of the auditorium rather than close to the
audience. Towards the end, Warelis is left alone for a synth solo, listened
to silently by band members and audience alike.
Thank you: Brigita Gračner
https://sploh.bandcamp.com/music
