TRMW Archives

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May 1, 2005

Frozen Music

Today I witnessed Frozen Music, the latest production from Portland’s modern chamber ensemble Third Angle. The title is a reference to a Goethe quote – “architecture is frozen music.” In keeping with this theme, three works were presented in three architecturally distinct buildings, and attempts were made to match the style and period of the music with the physical setting.

I was late so I missed the first piece, which revolved around “Northwest Modernism” and took place at Fox Tower, but I did catch most of “Neo-clssicism” at the fancy US Bank off 6th and Burnside. They played some Stravinsky, which I actually recognized without the program notes (woo college!), and a sextet by Francis Poulenc. This was really beautiful and very well-played, but my mind was wondering. My girlfriend had the same experience, and we got to talking about whether this is a modern condition – not being able to focus on anything – or if the original audience for these works had the same experience. It’s probably a combination of both; people are more distracted now, less blown away by the sheer radness of hearing and seeing music performed live AND people are just dumb animals that can’t focus for shit. Maybe?

After that the crowd ambled over to Hilton Tower’s unfinished basement for the somewhat cheesily titled “A Virtual Concert Hall” performance. This is really why I came; my friend from college, Brede Rørstad, had a piece in this show, which he also performed in. I would never have remembered this awesome thing without some email prodding from Brede, so yeah, thanks dude.

The first piece was totally charming. It was called Onomatopoeia and it was written by Nigel Westlake in 1984. It featured Brian Quincey on electric viola, an instrument which brings me back to the John Tesh concert I went to with my mom (I shit you not) and Yanni at Red Rocks, but which Mr. Quincey reclaims for the good. He starts out playing these gorgeous soaring scales through a delay pedal (I lack any terminology to acurately describe what he was doing here), then eases off the pedal and plays fast repeating lines. After a while a screen to his right lights up with a video recording of him playing the passage he just played, which he in turn accompanies. This keeps going until there are four Quincey’s, all but one digital. The cumulative effect was of a mass of sustained unresolved beauty, kind of like Steve Reich’s epicly wonderful Music for 18 Musicians delivered with a digital wink.

Then it was time for Brede’s piece, entitled Five Remixes of a Forgetten Theme. Quincey also played on this one, accompanied by Brede on latop. Brede manipulated Quincey’s viola in real-time adding in pre-sequenced beats and samples (at least I think they were). The music kept tumbing and transforming, evading any sense of forward and backward while orbitting around a central riff. And what a riff: mournful and transcendant at once, it was one of those pieces of music that feels plucked from the ground. You could call it elemental.

Behind all this, four screens were projected with underwater castles and sea creatures overlayed with boroque patterns. The whole thing ended perfectly with some unresolved loops and a perfect image: folding chairs (like the ones we were sitting in) floating in an underwater industrial space (like the one we were sitting in, except for the underwater part). Really, really nice.

Click here to listen to an excerpt from Brede Rørstad’s Five Remixes of a Forgetten Theme.

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November 10, 2004

Just got back from the show. The bands were good!

SUBTLE: Hadn’t heard these guys before, but I’m told they’re a conglomeration of Anticon and Mush people, including Dose One and Jel from Themselves. I expected something pretty low key, but this turned out to be a full-on band, with sax, flute, electric cello (!), glockenspeil, samplers, drums, synths, props, the whole 9. Really great music too, kind of space jazz hip hop hybrid something. Dose One was out front sing-rapping most of the time, emphasis on “performance”. He gesticulates with lazer-sharp precision and flamboyant(ly gay?) grace. His nasal delivery sort of grates, but he’s got rhythm and style and what I could make out of the lyrics sounded interesting. I want to hear more of this.

subtleposter

fig 5: subtle / frog eyes poster as it lies on my floor. designed by the very talented tyler stout.

FROG EYES: No fakers here. The lead guy is possessed of a manic energy which manifests in falsetto squeals and heavy breathing, and the band plays their instruments well. The songs are URGENT. Like watching someone in the midst of some life-changing insight, overpowered, before words like “inspiration” or “nervous breakdown” make sense. Good shit! But Greatest Band of All Time? The Anticon crowd seemed skeptical.

frog eyes

fig 6: frog-eyed cucarachas

ENTRANCE: Anybody who

(a) dresses like a hari krishna, but isn’t one, in 2004

(b) performs 1960′s-oriented rock music, in 2004

(c) sits cross-legged on stage at any point during set, in 2004 (only applies when (a) is present)

(d) throws tambourine off stage really hard nearly maiming innocent bystanders and generally acts like a spoiled brat, anytime

has to work pretty hard for my respect, in 2004. Somehow the dude in this band almost kindof did. He can play a mean guitar, and wails like he means it. But then he sulks like a baby between songs, and the drummer looks bored.

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Blast from the present!