Is this drone? No, it’s not; but it’s slow and sombre throughout. Lugubrious, even. That fits, as the seven pieces that make up Sarah Davachi’s cycle The Head As Form’d In The Crier’s Choir [Late Music] all relate to and draw inspiration from the Orpheus myth. The theme of grief – of the solemn, stoic kind – is ever present, as each piece in succession rolls out at the same slow pace and low register, for a litle over ninety minutes in total. The immediate distinction to be made between each work is in its timbre, but the bourdon of the pipe organ is a defining characteristic throughout. Davachi has recorded her performances on four church organs, heard either solo, in combination or with other instruments; besides multitracking, she uses other analog electronics and tape effects. With time, each piece gains its unique identity in its harmonic and textural construction, with pieces alternating between monody and antiphony, even at one point venturing a sepulchral introit melody on synthesiser. When other instruments are added (ranging from viola da gamba to trombone) they serve to expand upon the organ’s tone rather than seek to introduce contrast. One work is entirely electronic and introduces sounds that are more translucent and less weighted down; it’s preceded by a quintet for wind instruments in which Davachi is absent as a performer (the musicians here are Rebecca Lane, Sam Dunscombe, Michiko Ogawa, M.O. Abbott and Weston Olencki). There’s been a recent trend of musicians assaying various organs in a kind of field survey, but this is the first set of pieces I’ve heard where the organs are a means to an end, with each composition having been thoroughly and solidly constructed, unencumbered by any documentary obligation that might have distracted from the overall artistic goal. This is why each piece and the entire cycle can be appreciated with each fresh hearing, as first impressions give way to admiration for the craft, which in turn reveals more artstic depth, despite Davachi having set herself the narrowest of ranges in which to work.
Clara de Asís and Rebecca Lane had worked on their piece Distances Bending [Discreet Editions] for a couple of years or maybe more by the time of the recording heard here – it’s “their long-term project, which takes different forms in specific contexts and configurations in their exploration of harmonic and time proportions”. The version heard here was recorded in Berlin in May 2023 and besides de Asís on synthesizer and Lane on quarter-tone flutes, they’re joined by Sarah Saviet on violin and Deborah Walker on cello. The pacing makes the Davachi album sound brisk, as the four musicians create a music of severe austerity, adding and removing each note with great deliberation. For the listener, it comes across as a prolonged meditative action, with each small, slow step coming from inner immobility rather than tentative fragility. Even when all four are playing, they consciously produce a sound that is consciously thin, favouring closer harmonies and melodic stasis. Flute, cello harmonics and a pure synth patch yield very small differences in timbre, with only the characteristic rasp and edge of Saviet’s bowing providing obvious colouration. It’ll take at least one hearing with patience and undivided attention for the music’s purpose to make an impression on you, but once you’ve got it you’ll probably keep getting it on later listenings in less strenous circumstances.
