Recording review - Adrian Utley, In C (2013)

Minimally engaged, but unattached: a successful experiment

Terry Riley’s landmark 1964 composition, In C, is often credited with spawning the minimalist movement. It inspired Steven Reich and, by extension, Philip Glass, but it rippled out to affect more mainstream music as well; Pete Townshend titled his synth-driven “Baba O’Riley” as a tip of the hat to its influence. Riley’s piece broke ground by tying musical serialism to an indeterminate process. Indeterminacy dated back to experimental work by Charles Ives and later musicians like John Cage, but Riley’s approach was easier for audiences to grasp and appreciate. Rather than using a traditional score, the piece is defined by a set of 53 melodic fragments and an open-ended process for performance. It calls for an arbitrary number of musicians to play each of the phrases in order, repeating them at will and staying within two or three patterns of the group. Performers have the discretion for how they play the pieces: in unison with others, offset by some amount or dropping out altogether. It’s an interesting dynamic because the process inherently relies on chance and individual judgment, but the building blocks were carefully constructed and ordered to provide a rich set of connecting points.

In C has been performed and recorded numerous times over the years, with all sorts of ensembles. Adrian Utley’s variation is based on a 19-player guitar orchestra backed by four organs and a bass clarinet. Utley is best known for his work with the moody, electronically-inclined Portishead, but he’s had an enduring interest in experimental music featuring large groups of guitars. His arrangement of In C is somewhat slower than Riley’s first recording, but that doesn’t impact the carefully unfolding flow of moods throughout the piece. From intrigue and pensive tension to more expansive contemplation, Utley’s group breathes through the patterns with a Zen focus. Each moment is imbued with attention, but the group remains unattached, free to follow the currents shaped by the interlocking layers. The guitars provide a range of textures. Square-wave fuzz coexists with acoustic purity and angelic chime.



While the music does have fluidity, it’s also kaleidoscopic. Mirrored elements slip past one another, creating order that ever collapses into a new alignment. Individual sections have their mood and meaning, but the flow itself erodes the localized context, denying any global sense of purpose. The only constant is Riley’s eighth note pulse, the percussive heartbeat that drives the piece. This raises the fundamental question that underlies aleatoric and minimalist music: is it intentional enough to count as art? Human perception is programmed for pattern recognition. Faced with a stream of input, we inevitably find meaning or create it within ourselves. We can choose to interpret the staccato repetition around the nine-minute mark as a kind of vaguely-sensed threat or hear the rising fractal echoes over 22 minutes in as a beautiful, abstract mystery coalescing into concrete reality. It’s all a mere mirage—or is it something more? Is there a deeper significance? In C depends on the judgment of the musicians and they are just as vulnerable to the strange attractor of pattern recognition, but they don’t necessarily see the same pattern. Any individual shaping is buried within the hive mind of the larger orchestra. And yet, Riley sculpted these particular snippets of melody that set the structure. One argument for art is that different incarnations of his composition seem to find similar or at least familiar moments.

It’s hard to say how many Portishead fans will engage with Utley’s guitar orchestra; 60 odd minutes of minimalism may be too much for them to bite off. But the album is sure to appeal to aficionados of experimental and ambient musicians like Brian Eno or the Orb, as well as traditional minimalists.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review: Colin Stetson, New History Warfare Vol. 3: To See More Light (2013)

Sonic illusions show how far the sax can go

Synthesizer washes, keyboard loops, and throbbing electronic bass – it’s all a sonic illusion. While Colin Stetson’s new album might sound like an electro-interpretation of contemporary minimalism, there are no effects added beyond equalization and saturation. Stetson sculpts his bass saxophone into avant-garde mutations using a host of free-jazz techniques, like multiphonics and vocalization, combined with circular breathing, percussive valve work, and microphone manipulation. Producer Ben Frost augments Stetson’s remarkable playing to create the sounds of strings, bass guitars, and grinding metallic tones.

New History Warfare Vol. 3: To See More Light is the third in series of New History Warfare albums. Spaced out over several years, each volume has offered richer technical and sonic refinements since the first release in 2007. New History Warfare Vol. 2: Judges (2011) was a major critical success and this release builds on its strengths, featuring features longer tracks and greater physical demands on Stetson. Tempering Phillip Glass style minimalism with raw, challenging textures may seem like a recipe for “difficult listening music,” but the music feels like a natural blend that could be compared to progressive electronica. Even as he focuses on virtuoso performance, it’s never self-indulgent. Performance artist Laurie Anderson provided “vocal presence” on Judges along with Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond). This time, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver steps in to take on the small set of vocals and his style is very different from Anderson or Worden. I appreciate how Stetson has used these more familiar artists to expand his vision. In a reversal of roles, he teases out their specific characters for this album. Normally, he’s in demand for their projects because of his unique voice. Aside from collaborating with performers like Anderson and Vernon’s Bon Iver, Stetson has been a touring and studio wildcard for other artists like Tom Waits, Arcade Fire and Feist.

Any track on the album could serve as a good example of Stetson’s chameleon-like playing. On “Hunted”, for instance, his sax is closer to a deconstructed industrial sound than what the instrument is normally known for. It’s raw and ragged, throbbing with tension. A minimalist flutter superimposes percussive bass notes over the main register, building rhythmic and tonal complexity. Richly evocative, his raspy vocalizations add the tortured yowl of a big cat on the prowl. Through the course of the song, Frost’s production dynamically adjusts the proximity between distant searching and close-in threat. The arrangement is so thickly layered that it’s almost inconceivable that this performance is free of instrumental overdubs or multiple players.

The awe-inspiring centerpiece of the album is the epic title track, “To See More Light”. The 15 minute sojourn begins with a sparse, exploratory feel. For once, Stetson tosses out simple saxophone stabs without mutating their texture. A hollow echo suggests a large space to be mapped out and understood. The song becomes more purposeful and complex as his line transforms into a thoughtful, repetitive series. Searching and building, he sets a trance groove. His sax bubbles and vibrates, then twists back on itself. The tempo pulses with speedy sprints and eddies of reflection. A moaning undertone and brittle surface create an anxious sense of dread. Gathering murky energy, it resolves into a sonic juggernaut on the move. The quivering pattern from before is completely subsumed by shifting synthesizer-like tones and a heavy percussive plodding. As if the beginning explorations inevitably led to this marching darkness, the music recalls Robert Oppenheimer’s thoughts at the Trinity nuclear test, “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” Stetson lets the resonant vibration build and break down the track into unformed chaos. The title may aspire to growth, but the narrative arc offers a cautionary perspective. It’s followed by a cover of Washington Phillips’ gospel hymn, “What Are They Doing In Heaven Today?”, which offers a moment of repose, much like how the Beatles used their lullaby “Good Night” to soothe after “Revolution 9”. Vernon’s overdubbed vocals offer African chorale harmonies. It’s almost acapella, with the sax providing a mere flickering flame of accompaniment.

Isolation is a recurring theme throughout the New History Warfare series. Stetson’s anguished tones are tap into a well of disconnection and need. Those emotions are rawer on To See More Light, making it a compelling collection that transcends the impressive playing and recording techniques.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

CD review - Colin Stetson, New History Warfare, Vol 2 Judges (2011)

New History Warfare, Volume 2 Judges, due out February 22, is the follow up to Colin Stetson's first album, New History Warfare, Volume 1. Stetson continues his work in experimental art music which is heavily influenced by minimalist composers like Phillip Glass.

Staccato chops of sound, percolating and buzzing, form the basis of these pieces. The horns and vocalizations sound heavily processed, resonating with feedback or picking up odd echoes. This sets a mood across the album -- a touch of anxious tension and hidden threat. Despite this, it's a compelling listen and the song flow pulls the listener in.

Woodwind and horn player Colin Stetson has toured and recorded with diverse artists from Arcade Fire to Laurie Anderson to Tom Waits. His background is in jazz, but he's developed a unique sound based on percussive playing, circular breathing, and odd vocalizations. Like other iconoclast players (Adrian Belew, Steve Vai, Ornette Coleman), his original sound has made him a valuable addition to many other artists' music.

While most of New History Warfare, Volume 2 Judges is Stetson alone, he does bring in Laurie Anderson and Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond) to add their vocal talents. What's surprising, though, is that most of the album is recorded with no overdubs or looping. So, the intense bubbling electronic sounds of Judges, with its mangled and distorted bass sound, is all Stetson.

Similarly, The Stars in His Head (Dark Lights Remix) sounds like a droning electronic version of the Velvet Underground, with the sax covering the part of John Cale's viola. The feedback throb builds a disturbed feel, full of nervous energy. The balance of beat and squealing lines create a call and response. It's amazing to imagine Stetson creating all of that in a single take.

Each song that Laurie Anderson contributes to sounds like her solo work. Her voice, phrasing, and mood are so much her own and Stetson sounds like he's augmenting her work rather than vice versa. Fear of the Unknown and the Blazing Sun is the best of these:

Of all the wires, It was the wires That were the wires for empathy That we loved beyond all the others.

The odd percussion sounds looped and mixes well with the vocalized horn work.

Stetson's deconstruction of the gospel blues classic, Lord I Just Can't Keep From Cryin', Sometimes is another strong track. Shara Worden's vocals are effectively a capella, with just an occasional scratch of rhythm and an ominous didgeridoo hum lurking underneath. The creepy combination of the dirgelike singing and the threatening bass fill the track with such dread. It's a powerful track.

While a modulated arpeggio approach dominates New History Warfare, Volume 2 Judges, sounding superficially like Phillip Glass's minimalist work, I find this music much richer and more interesting. A strong aged tequila would be the right match: spicy, strong, and unmistakable.

(Sample: The Righteous Wrath of an Honorable Man)