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jgrzinich - insular regions | |||||||||||||||||
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 SIRR 0021 John Grzinich's new album reflects the surroundings and pace of life in a small Estonian village called Mooste, where the sound was recorded and assembled. The work takes the form of two long pieces (18 minutes and 44 minutes respectively) which could be pigeon-holed as 'deep-listening drones with field recording textures'. It is noticeable that though the liner notes describe the recording of individual field recordings, the two most prominent sounds are complex evolving drones, used mainly to anchor the field recordings, to give some connecting motion to the pieces. In some ways these drones, though extremely detailed and rich in warmth and sonority, can at times feel at odds with the dynamic gestures captured in the field recordings, which occasionally become subservient to the flat, slowly propulsive drones. Sometimes because of the sheer spectral richness of these drones the elements of environmental sound seem to be almost banished to the highest frequencies where some of the sounds, no matter how poetically described, sound like rustling: [from the liner notes] "The first snow was wet and melted upon contact with the trees. Drops fell across the forest causing a delicate cracking giving the feeling that the dead leaves were crawling back to life." "It was the sound of the lake freezing. The ice was solid enough to stand on but shifting slightly." What really makes this album of interest is the continued development that Grzinich is making in his work with manipulating captured sound. It is as if he has come to the conclusion that the sound environments he currently inhabits and records [the Estonian countryside of Mooste] are not enough to fully portray this world. Field recordings will and always have suffered from the same framing device that limits everything from painting to digital photography, and makes it very difficult to truly 'capture' a place with sound. Recordings separated from their context will always be lessened in some subtle way, a way in which Grzinich is compensating for by creating this synthesis of sound that evokes the slow time of village life. Rather than chase the inevitable disappointment of trying to simply document a sound world, Grzinich's method is to try to manifest the pace as well as the place. Isn't it strange that the very nature of computer music with it's 'limitless possibilities' for sound creation should attract so many who are devoted to documenting and capturing 'real' environmental sounds? By using more synthesized sound Grzinich is really progressing the vocabulary of field recording into a wider world of abstract composition. He is creating an area that is rooted in place and yet becomes much more emotionally engaging than just presenting well recorded 'sound-marks'. This work rewards both loud listening on speakers and deep headphone listening. In fact headphones reveal a much more balanced relationship between the tones and the environmental recordings. Both compositions are simple and uncluttered. The first piece is full of unrealized tension, created by the complex drone, providing a perfect drive and narrative for the popping and crackle textures of the field recordings, evoking everything from making popcorn, huge vats of boiling oil, stepping on dry twigs to footsteps and shuffling around indoors. The second piece places more emphasis on the drones and the weight of bass that accompanies these sounds. For me it works much better. The atmosphere of this piece is one of almost a gentle siren - undulating like a slow thick liquid in waves, a very expansive sound - completely synthetic and yet densely evocative of still waters and reflected winter skies. The absolute peak of this album is about twenty minutes into this second piece: as the wind and a creaking wooden building slowly overpower the distancing drones. It sounds as if Grzinich and his companion are drifting lost at sea, but also high in the air, suspended high in a sort of impossible, rickety air balloon, waiting and listening to be gently pulled back to earth. Review by Mark McLaren
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