Is this grunge? I don’t mean it’s amped-up distorted but it sure sounds dirty. Laura Cocks’ solo flute bears no resemblance to the typically bright and shiny instrument we all know, more like it’s just been dug up from a burial ground with clumps of dirt still between the keys. On FATHM [Relative Pitch / Out Of Your Head], Cocks stalks through the nine pieces all sneerin’ and a’smearin’, starting with a strangulated wheeze and then a quick gasp for air before plummeting into the abyss. Muddied sub-tones predominate throughout, with the usual ‘free’ repertoire of shrill outbursts and anguished vocalisations kept to the barest minimum, giving everything a dense, vegetative vibe that verges on claustrophobia. The blunt and murky sound works as a discordant contrast with the restlessness of Cocks’ playing style. Well-placed rough breath and grubby fingering blur every pitch into something organic, like nature operating at its grimiest level. A few tracks play out like a standard improviser’s-frenzy of running the instrument through its paces, but then you get tracks where Cocks takes the flute’s more improbable sounds to create something truly unique. A marsh wren lands on the ear like an uncomfortably close-miked field recording, FAVN is a soliloquy of low, wordless bellowing. YARN somehow manages to sound like a collage of musique concrète in its material and construction. The smaller servings offered here make this less formidable than last year’s duet SLUB with Weston Olencki but show that her aesthetics haven’t mellowed: if you buy the CD, the hand-made packaging uses “natural elements” that will degrade over time. “Do not worry, that is the nature of things.”
Speaking of obstinacy (which I kind of was, indirectly), cellist Matthias Lorenz and pianist Miroslav Beinhauer have recorded a set of three duets by Petr Bakla. Beinhauer was the soloist on Bakla’s Late Night Show album and also contributed a few Fluxus interpretations on that Stolen Symphony comp a while back. At the time, I referred to Mieko Shiomi’s Imaginary Garden No. 3 as “charming” without noting that obstinacy was also present, combining attention-deficit flightiness with left-brained obsessiveness. That’s a good enough reference point for Bakla’s Cello & Piano [Octopus Press], although there’s nothing flighty in the way Bakla puts his music together. There appears to be a system at work, or the impression of a system, even as it defies analysis. In Two Instances from 2016, the two instruments intertwine in a staggered arpeggio, cello pizzicato and piano muted una corda to create a muted, idle strumming. For Eduard Herzog is the earliest work, from 2006, and drops a clue to Bakla’s influences, invoking dodecaphonic rows and deploying them with febrile tremeloes and glissandi that both embrace and deride the means of the avant-garde from days of yore. The personal opinion is more overt here, as is the brittle, self-aware construction that recalls Ablinger or Spahlinger. The new piece dominates, not only because it’s nearly twice as long as the other two put together. Eight Notes, composed last year, beguiles with its reductive title. There’s a grand total of two pitches in the piece, a minor third apart in the bass clef: each may be held for one beat or two, played either as loud or as soft as possible. Bakla’s score meticulously rings the changes on how the two instruments combine these elements, cello and piano repeatedly exchanging between foreground and background, implying antiphony and dialogue out of what should be monotony. A lowkey masterpiece of the minimal, it’s mesmerising, it’s maddening, it’s compelling, kind of funny in a way, relentless, inevitable.
Filed under: Music, Reviews by Ben.H
Tags: Laura Cocks, Petr Bakla
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Ma, What Are They Givin’ Me? Matthew Shlomowitz, Weston Olencki, Laura Cocks
Sunday 17 March 2024
I swear I’m not warming to Matthew Shlomowitz’s music; it’s just that he jerks me around, which is doubtless part of his intention, and that I’ve been fortunate enough to swing in the right direction more often than not. Having been wowed after a few bad trips by his Explorations in Polytonality and Other Musical Wonders, Volume 1, he’s back with some of the threatened sequels to mess with my expectations again. Pleasingly, it both is and is not more of the same. Explorations in Polytonality and Other Musical Wonders, Volumes 2 and 4 presents two suites for small ensembles which extend the hyperkinetic chromaticism-by-association of the original piano set while adding cultural complications that make listening more precarious. These have been a feature in much of Shlomowitz’s music before now, and haven’t always sat well with the material. In these examples, everything is much better integrated. Volume 2 is scored for the forbidding combination of three recorders, ably played here by the Apsara trio who bolt out of the gate like an overclocked calliope in a dazzling contrapunctal frenzy. The dexterity of Shlomowitz’s writing, matched by Apsara’s precision, is placed at odds with the thickened timbre and rough attack of the instruments. The intonation is thus smudged throughout, calling into question the wisdom in attempting this polytonal exercise in the first place. Six formal studies are tooted at you, topped off by a coda labelled “Afternoon Jazz” that is more po-faced than the preceding movements – one of a number of little jokes that all land successfully this time around, highlighting the wit overall. You’re left in a conflicted position akin to viewing a finely detailed finger-painting, admiring the skill while agonising over the validity of the chosen medium.
Volume 4 features Quartet Laboratoire on a combo of synthesisers and percussion. An exacting but erratic drumkit backs xylophone and vibes with keyboards loaded with the daggiest General MIDI patches – more familiar territory for Shlomowitz but put to better use here, mixing funny and grating in its material and its means. The writing is less stiff than I remember from his earlier electroacoustic works, and the incongruities emerge through more subtle means than simple juxtaposition. The Laboratoire musicians nail down the rapid interplay of tuned percussion with the alacrity of Serious Europeans playing Zappa in a concert-hall, undermined by the electronic squeezebox synth parts that evoke, not so much retro computer gaming, as the received idea that old timey video-game music is crude and thin. While some music builds on the tension between low culture and high, Shlomowitz tweaks his sophisticated musical language by playing off the low against the low that aspires to be high. When you work through all the confusion you finally end up with a bundle of fresh, new confusion. Like I said, he jerks you around, but in a good way. The final movement’s title, “LoFi not to study to”, means what it says.
The title of this album is disingenuous. I mean, yes it’s true that Music for Two Flutes by Weston Olencki and Laura Cocks does indeed contain two flutes and nothing but, played by Olencki and Cocks themselves, but it does not prepare you for what is to come. Remember vuvuzelas? Now that you’ve recovered, I’ll clarify that the buzzing drones of Olencki’s ceòl meadhonach in fact draw on Highland bagpipe music for inspiration. The title is accurately but unhelpfully explained as being a type of music that’s neither classical nor popular – not quite an accurate summary but enough to give you the idea. Using what sounds like a trumpet embouchure for the flute is here employed to produce harmonies in a Gaelic mode, slowed to glacial pace. Halfway through the tone suddenly changes to a muted burble before recapitulating. This radical approach to traditional idioms is carried over in another set of pieces Olencki has made with Cleek Schrey, titled The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion, which intend to discuss later this week. Laura Cocks presented the fearless and fearsome recital disc field anatomies a couple of years back, offering some of the most brutal flute music on record. Her composition SLUB pushes her interest in physical limits and the pursuit of extreme and even ugly sounds with elemental directness. The two use their instruments as resonators and filters for an array of partially-voiced mouth noises, alternately squealing, honking, braying, rasping and squelching in a bravura effort to redefine the instrument. Cocks warns that this “reconfiguration” comes with “instabilities”, which is emphatically true. It harks back to a bolder age of experimentation, recalling Kagel’s determination to find a music deprived of cultural and institutional support. Both pieces are monumental slabs of sound and it can all get a bit frightening.
