Ziph

Musique Pour Trompes et Ballons
Prele Record prl006

As time goes on, inventing new techniques or new types of sound has become almost commonplace, with sonic thinkers ranging from so-called New musicians to so-called avant-Rockers claiming to do one or both. But what about creating original, acoustic, non-computer non-software-based musical instruments? Hardly anyone has been part of that tiny group of inventors recently, at least until French trombonist Thierry Madiot started experimenting with his horn in the early part of this century.

Dismantling his instrument, plugging a roll of plastic and a rubber balloon into it, then blowing it in reverse via a constructing ring, he created a hybrid brass-reed called the ziph. Musique Pour Trompes et Ballons is that apparatus’ debut recording, with Madiot plus anywhere from another one to 11 other ziphists – or is it ziphers – demonstrating the contraption’s versatility on 13 tracks.

The balloon’s membrane is malleable enough to take on brass and reed qualities so that echoes of both instrumental families are audible in the performances. Additionally, by the juxtaposition of pitch-sliding timbres, crackling oscillations and spewing breaths alongside unmistakable acoustic tones, the ziph(s) take on sonic qualities usually associated with computer-assisted software. Sometimes here the drone from the cumulative ziphs sounds like the timbres of a church pipe organ; other times the broken-octave capillary friction takes on jet-engine-like suggestions. One of the few sequences within which there’s a recognizable brass bray occurs on “Phonographie d’intérieur”, and even here the congruent tones encompass the sort of squeals, buzzes and sighs that could come from wildlife animals or insects, approximating the work of Sheffield-based field recordist Chris Watson, the piece’s dedicatee. Ironically as well, although “Ontological Breathing”, made up of a collection of traverse breaths, glissandi and mouth slurs, swells to a miasma of watery textures, plus ricocheting inchoate whistles before dissolving, the piece is still much louder than anything played by the dedicatee, Austrian trombonist Radu Malfatti, one of the original microtonalists.

Putting aside honorees, the ensemble’s concentrated tone dislocations are better expressed on “Poème Pour Trompes Télescopiques” and “Sensor Acoustic Band”. On the latter each of the ziphists contributes to the broken-octave upsurge with rubato buzzing and fluttering respiration overlaid on tones that elsewhere would be motor-driven. As sharp air intakes from some of the participants rip apart the nearly opaque harmonies, the piece gradually opens up to a cornucopia of wider vibratos. As for “Poème Pour Trompes Télescopiques” or “poem for telescoped horns”, similarities to Tibetan radungs are created by rubbing and pumping the balloons’ fabric in such a way that low-pitched tones like those from the Asian ritual instrument arise. Not mere imitation though, the ziphs’ sonic properties vary the flat-line burr with spiky resonations, a crackling electronic-emulating line and what could be foolscap tearing.

The key to this introductory showcase for the ziph is probably the two “Dripping Tube” selections, which owe little to Flxus composer George Brecht’s themes on which they’re based. Instead one features the organizing of clanking and reverberating balloon tones into a broken-chord sequence. The first one, which evidentially involves no more than two ziphers – the apparatus’ Jay & Kai perhaps – divides the instrument’s vibrating membrane in such a way that tongue slaps are heard as the two players move from opposition to reflection than cooperation.

This CD is undoubtedly the best every made by ziph players – and likely the only one. On a serious note however, Madiot’s invention, and its use for experimental music with other players deserves more extensive outside investigation.

--Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. I’m Blowing in a Tube 2. Breathing Gesture 3. Twelve 1 4. Poème Pour Trompes Télescopiques 5. Sensor Acoustic Band 6. Nasal Critical Band 7. Dripping Tube I 8. Laptop Imitation 9. Ontological Breathing 10. Balloon Synthesis 11. Stases Nuageuses 12. Phonographie d’intérieur 13. Dripping Tube II

Personnel: David Bausseron, Claude Colpaert, Vincent Debaets, Lune Grazilly, Patrick Guionnet, Jacques Leclercq, Thierry Madiot, Yanik Miossec, Aline Paligot, Michael Potier, Christian Pruvost and Li-Ping Ting (ziphes)

January 10, 2012

REKMAZLAPZEP

Dedicated to you Annick, but you weren’t listening
Vand’oeuvre vdo 0631

Demanding an overused cliché, the unwieldy-named REKMAZLAPZEP is a super group consisting of four of France’s most accomplished improvisers. Modesty would no double cause the quartet members to reject the accolade, but it’s their years of improv exploration together and in other aggregations that makes this CD so notable.

At the same time this is creativity mixed with solemnity, since the four organized as a group six years ago to honor the memory of French improvising vocalist Annick Nozati (1945-2000), with whom each had played at one point or another. The title is an ironic, and non-sappy, reference to her absence from the scene. Not that this live session is any way program music. There is no vocalist present, all the sounds are improvised and the seven tracks advanced by the unusual instrumentation – trombone, saxophone and two electric guitars – precludes sentimentality with multi-layered instrumental bravura.

Almost textbook Free Improv in its evolution, the Annick suite involves passages of extreme loudness, usually promulgated by the flanged phasers and amp distortions of guitarists Dominique Répécaud and Camel Zekri. Minimalist passages and pauses predominate as well, with saxophonist Daunik Lazro and Thierry Madiot on bass trombone and (briefly) French horn expending grunting tremolo split tones and moistened spetrofluctuation.

At the same time, Lazro, who has recorded with everyone from American multi-instrumentalist Joe McPhee to fellow Gallic reedist Michel Doneda doesn’t confine his timbres to the big saxophone’s basement register. On “Sans aile” for instance, his false register obbligatos and altissmo shrieks easily match and enlarge the slurred fingering and distorted phrase-shifting from the guitarists. Both plectrumists also seem intent on exposing their inner Jimi Hendrix’s in a 1960s-stye rave up. Then again, the two know how to leave space since together they make up one-half of the all guitar band Misere et Cordes.

Standing apart from this protoplasmic mass of oscillating pitches is Madiot, whose languid horn offers mellow contrapuntal grace notes with a plunger mute emphasis. Reflective and multiphonic, the trombonist’s tone hints at his playing experience with larger formations led by the likes of percussionist Jean-Pierre Jullian and guitarist Marc Ducret.

Blending the projections of distorted fuzztones and heavily rhythmic rasgueado from the guitarists, neighing ostinato and flutter-tongued brays from the trombonist, and the saxophonist’s shifting reed slurs plus extended snarls, characterizes the climatic final track.

Clocking in at more-than-16-minutes, “Sidéral” combines conclusive shards of the previous expositions. Here Maadiot’s didjeridoo-like horn echoes and Lazro’s mellow tremolo tongue flutters join in broken octaves to aurally break through the ectoplasmic shifting and reverb buzz from the droning guitarists’ slides, smears and crunches. After palm taps and finger-style fills expose moments of silence among the continuous, almost bone-shaking resonation, the piece subsides into stops, flutters and fills.

What better definition could there be of interactive, four-person improvisation –

French variety?

-- Ken Waxman

Track Listing: 1. Le rêveur s’envole 2. Brulûre sourde 3. Erectile 4. Sans aile 5. Sange limite 6. Spectral 7. Sidéral

Personnel: Thierry Madiot (bass trombone and French horn); Daunik Lazro (baritone saxophone); Dominique Répécaud (electric guitar) and Camel Zekri (electroscopic guitar)

September 19, 2006

Yitzhak Yedid

Passions and Prayers
Between the Lines

Post No Bills
Musick für Kammerensemble
Nurnichtnur

Jean-Pierre Jullian
Opus Incertum on C…
Émouvance

By Ken Waxman
January 16, 2006

On occasion imagining themselves with lower standing than so-called classical composers, improvising musicians create program music, hoping to theoretically reach a similar elevated level – especially if the results are presented in concert. Many times this yearning expressed in semi-notated works is further staunched by utilizing strings and other orchestral instruments for similar purported prestige.

As these three examples of chamber-improv, created by different musicians in different countries demonstrate however, it’s usually the techniques, traditions and passions of improvisation that make a fundamental impression on the listener above and beyond the composition itself.

Each of these sets prominently features strings, piano and trombone. Plus, in the case of Israeli pianist Yitzhak Yedid’s Passions and Prayers and the German quintet Post No Bills’ Musick für Kammerensemble – such common orchestral instruments as flute, tuba, French horn and clarinet. In fact, only Jean-Pierre Jullian’s Opus Incertum on C… features a percussionist – the composer himself – but he isn’t heard at all in its First Movement, and his playing remains succinct and low-key throughout, until friction and scrapes are briefly explored in the penultimate track.

Additionally both Jullian’s and Yedid’s CDs are explicitly programmatic. The percussionist’s two movement, 16-track suite honors the sport of camarguaise, and one of its greatest participants, rasteur Christian Chomel. Similarly Passions and Prayers is a five-part, 20-motif suite written in tribute to Yedid’s home city, Jerusalem. In contrast, Post No Bills’ CD is defiantly microtonal and abstract.

If musical passages in Passions and Prayers and Opus Incertum on C… represent roles and actions, then Musick für Kammerensemble has no back story. It’s nearly 74 minutes of uncompromising contemporary chamber music played by an unusually-constituted ensemble of clarinet, piano, tuba, vibraphone and Christoph Weinheimer doubling flute and violin.

Both the other CDs almost have unstated librettos. Yedid’s emotional storytelling cycle structures themes, motifs and prayers to celebrate the people and atmosphere of the ancient Israeli city. Throughout however, a melancholy flavor haunts the work. Much more celebratory, Jullian’s disc tries to replicate the essence of camarguaise, that takes place in a bull ring, where rasteurs try to retrieve various articles such as fabric ends or strings placed on the face or around the horns of six bulls. The grace under pressure demanded in this role often resembles a wild, crowned dance or the split-second decision-making of musical improvisation.

To this end the second and more interesting movement of Opus Incertum on C…

involves all the musicians in a shrilling, contrapuntal exchange with carefully timed dance rhythms and march suggestions. Echoing both Bizet’s Carmen and Cretan dances, it gives the CD additional, extra-musical connotations.

Besides the percussionist, whose background includes work with American bassist Barre Phillips, the band is filled with first-call French jazzers. Bassist Claude Tchamitchian has worked with everyone from American multi-instrumentalist Joe McPhee to French pianist Sophia Domanchich; pianist Stephan Oliva has played with guitarist Marc Ducret and drummer Daniel Humair; and tenor saxophonist Lionel Garcin was in a trio with Phillips and Canadian drummer Michel Lambert. Additionally, Guiallaume Orti plays alto saxophone and percussion and Larent Hoevenaers, cello. Violinist Régis Huby works with such folklore imaginaire specialists as cellist Vincent Courtois and clarinetist Louis Sclavis, while trombonist Thierry Madiot is part of a trio with French saxophonist Daunik Lazro and British bassist Paul Rogers.

Obviously the tenor of Yedid’s homage is much different than that of Jullian’s. But its almost excessive formalism results more from the background of its performers than the composition itself. The pianist, who has extensive classical training, and who also studied with Paul Bley, has surrounded himself with players with similar backgrounds in notated music. Bassist Ora Boasson Horev, who is part of Yedid’s regular trio, is in the Israeli Camerata Orchestra and baroque music ensembles. American-born clarinetist and bass clarinetist Orit Orbach has played in the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra, the Israel Chamber Orchestra and Haifa’s Israel Northern Symphony. French hornist Alon Reuven plays with The Israel Camerata and violist Galia Hai is in the Israel Contemporary String Quartet. Only trombonist Yaron Ouzana from Ramat-Gan, whose slashing and buzzing solos often lift the ensemble, has extensive big band, jazz, funk and Latin music experience.

Sometimes, as on the first track, the trombonist’s repetitive pedal tones mix distinctively with heraldic clarinet lines from Orbach, while “Part 5” includes honking glissandi from the trombonist and hornist Reuven as the clarinetist slurs lower chromatic pitches. Throughout, however, many of the motifs resemble nocturnes, and too often it’s evident that the music is being read rather than improvised.

For example the CD’s third section, which deals with the development between imagination and reality, follows the thunk of woody bass parts and triple-stopped string spiccato with an almost hygienic dialogue between the hornist – repeating one motif –

and split tones from the clarinetist. After the pianist and trombonist join for the continuo, all the instruments accelerate to a crescendo of striated tones which brings forth sound pictures of cartoon-like storm clouds and thunder bolts. As trombone bites and speedy arco fiddling from Hai mate with high-pitched, right-handed key tinkles from Yedid, concentrated stumpy tones continue unraveling until the end.

Contrast this to the 10th track on Opus. It’s a double-tongued interlude from trombonist Madiot, which picks up the hard metal vibrations of the bell as he plays. Before a finale shaped by Jullian’s zealous flams, flapping snare snaps and press rolls, growls and snorts from Garcin’s saxophone, open the piece into a Willem Breuker Kollektief-style march.

A few tracks earlier, veloce passages turn to jazz-like swing with brass grace notes sharing space with peeping saxophone smears and Tchamitchian’s ostinato that takes on slap bass characteristics. Overt paradiddles from the drummer back up melodic expansions and contractions from Orti’s alto saxophone. Finally a contrapuntal horn action takes the piece out.

Throughout what would be orchestral sections are broken into component parts, although much of the more than 11½-minute piano-and-strings “Movement I” appears to be mere harmonic coloration. Metronomic piano chording and harmonized violin, cello and bass lines probably have more romantic resonance than Jullian intended. Another drawback is the sheer number of motifs. Setting aside the infrequent tutti passages, at points it’s as if camarguaise development slows down ratcheting percussion, whereas a piano fantasia or echoing horn-like trombone timbres are rarely heard unfettered by accompaniment.

Jullian’s triple-timing on the penultimate track, following a sul tasto solo violin line, and preceding buzzed horn timbres and placid string layering lessens some of the tension that has been built up for a proper conclusion.

Conversely, perhaps it’s the nature of the history implicit in the growth of the Jewish State, but musical pathos constantly overwhelms any jollity implicit in Passions and Prayers’ compositions. For instance, the strings’ concentrated arco work, that keens like oldsters at synagogue prayer, implies “weeping whispers” that add to this melancholy. So do more semi-classical portamento interludes, which are spiked with sharp piano interludes that slice tutti harmonics. Implicit parallelism among the sections often floats upon ghost-like chords, while notes shaken from the horns imply a constant walk along precipices rather than a musical resolution.

Eventually as the motifs and sub themes return in “Part 5”, the trombone and horn attempt to assert rubato differentiation, but the gloomy string parts predominate. Before the entire suite ends with the ensemble playing the same motif that began “Part 1”, Orbach smears a chromatic low pitch, Horev’s outputs a similar stentorian sul ponticello action and Yedid speeds dynamic vibrations. His solo piano outing in “Part 4”, which includes multi-finger arpeggios and rapid-fire cadences impresses, although when he refers to the suite’s development, his playing appears a bit distant.

Encompassing many memorable instrumental passages, glum Passions and celebratory Opus are united in that neither quite expresses the program at which each composer aimed.

Musick für Kammerensemble is a completely different proposition, although the German musicians participating in the nine, un-named, instant compositions have similar so-called serious music backgrounds as the Israeli and French players.

Homburg-born multi-instrumentalist Weinheimer and Frankfurt-born clarinetist Ole Schmidt are involved in dance, theatre and chamber projects as is Onasbrück-born pianist Robert Schleisiek. The first two helped create a 24-hour improvisation involving chamber ensembles and soloists, as well as computer-generated sound production and player piano compositions. On the other hand, Cologne-based tubaist Carl Ludwig Hübsch regularly works with improvisers like trombonist Wolter Wierbos from the Netherlands, while vibist Tom Lorenz, from Düsseldorf has played with local jazzers such as bassist Dieter Manderscheid anmd as a soloist with the WDR Big Band.

There’s no chance of a “Flying Home” or “Bag’s Groove” quote appearing here when the metal bars are struck with tremolo vibrations however. Patterns resembling tam-tams or tubular bells are more likely to be heard, though most are probably courtesy of Lorenz. Often he’ll meld busy rubato arpeggios with the piano, although most of the pieces are built on pastel tinctures rather than any sense of dynamics.

On tunes such as the nearly 11½-minute track five, Schleisiek cross fades ghostly piano chords including single string microtones, but the end result is more descriptive than some of Yedid’s more restrained portions of Passions. Here too, the vibist gradually reveals a simple line as the tuba burbles pedal point, the clarinet extends smears to split tones and fiddler Weinheimer creates circular spiccato textures.

For his part Schmidt’s simple trills relate back to American chamber jazzman Jimmy Giuffre and the minimalist reedists who followed him. Yet even with Schleisiek’s patterned, unfussy piano lines and the occasional cymbal pop, the effect skirt preciousness because of Hübsch’s sonorous and burnished pitch-sliding. Should the sort of romanticism that affected some of the tracks on Opus threaten to arise here, then it’s almost literally blown away by the tubaist and high-pitched sul ponticello fiddle squeaks.

The more than 23½-minute final track detaches the five even more from impressionism, as Hübsch moves from a stirring display of buzzed lip growls, valve twisting and blocked tubes to effervescent counterpoint with chalumeau clarinet lines. When these accelerate to harsh whistling from the reed and cavernous pressure from the brass beast, the constricted tones define Post No Bills’ parameters better than any written libretto. Concluding with thick, subterranean tuba snorts and polyharmony from the others the CD confirms that in the proper hand instant compositions can make more of an impression than formal ones.

January 16, 2006