Graham Halliwell, Tomas Korber
The Large Glass
The Wire
In May last year Swiss guitarist and electronics whiz Tomas Korber travelled to the depths of rural Norfolk to record three hours of music with the quiet man of British improv, Graham Halliwell, whose exquisite sustained saxophone feedback has graced several fine releases in recent years, notably by +minus, his trio with Bernhard Günter and Mark Wastell (samples of whose work are discreetly incorporated into The Large Glass). There are no Hendrix howls or Borbetomagus blares in Halliwell's patient explorations, but playing with feedback is always playing with fire, and the sense of danger is more palpable here than on his previous releases, perhaps also because this was the first time he'd experimented with pre-recorded multi-track feedback in live direct-to-disk recording. Eliane Radigue (a Halliwell hero) often comes to mind, especially in the opening "The Essence Of Things", not only because of the warmth of the low register drone but because of the skill with which Halliwell and Korber, whose editing and mastering is as impressive as the music he makes, move the piece forward almost imperceptibly from the chilly screes of filtered noise to the delicate bell-like sonorities that herald its stately retreat. Unlike much contemporary EAI, which is often deadly, even dully, serious in its investigation of rumbles and crackles, there's something genuinely mysterious and inexplicably beautiful about this music. When those hairs stand up you know you're on to something good, and the eerie distant choirs that close the album are absolutely magical. Halliwell is fond of the rather atypical Marcel Duchamp quotation "an artist expresses himself with his soul, with the soul it must be assimilated", and the titular reference to Duchamp's "Large Glass" is deliberate, referring to a remark by Korber who suggested the music reminded him of stained glass. There is indeed a kind of cathedral resonance to the closing "Coarse Ashes" as Halliwell's tones cast fine shafts of pure colour into Korber's dark vaulted spaces.
The area of music under discusson
Can a piece of music be aesthetically beautiful and at the same time dangerous? If it sounds achingly pretty, does that by virtue challenge the listener any less? I must admit to some snobbery on my part. I started to avoid recordings that sounded too nice. I equated this to playing it "safe". To me, "playing it safe" appeared to be the antithesis of everything compelling about taomud. I'm the first to admit that sometimes I can be a right tosser! I'll also readily admit that "The Large Glass" is a beautiful recording and I love it all the same. Perhaps it's time to reassess my values. "Playing it safe" and sounding beautiful or pretty are not one in the same. You could easily argue that some of the musicians who play the ugliest music constantly play it safe. I've veered rather far from the release in question. Time to apply the breaks on the current tangent. "The Large Glass" combines the talents of Graham Halliwell and Tomas Korber and marks the third release(and first of 2007) for Richard Pinnell's promising Cathnor label. Halliwell and Korber probably don't need much in the way of introduction to people familiar with this sphere of music. The former utilises saxophone feedback and the latter, guitar and electronics as their primary weapon of choice. As far as introductions go, that's all I'll offer . The first thing that strikes me about "The Large Glass" is its ability to completely occupy the listening environment. It's an entirely immersive experience and one that really requires semi-decent speakers and an open room to appreciate. My attempts with headphones significantly subtracted the mystique and rendered the end result aenemic by comparrison. Such conditions can understandably cause one to be unenthused but the results are worth the effort. The first(and longest) track, "the essence of things", is the immediate standout. It lends credence to my assertion that this album should have been titled "The Broken Glass" as the enormous sub-bass at the midpoint shook a wine glass right off the shelf to a shattered death below. As you might guess, this music has an impressive physicality. Halliwell's control of his saxophone feedback is remarkable and contributes greatly to the beautiful danger of the sounds therein. You get the feeling that it could all derail at any moment, but like a feedback wrangler Halliwell reigns it in and only lets the sound go where he dictates. Korber too, is equally impressive with his contributions, from static washes to ethereal drones and pre-recorded material courtesy of Mark Wastell. The whole thing hangs in the air like a miasma and builds in intensity. It's a remarkable track. The remaining two tracks are wonderful in their own right, even if the overall impact isn't quite a strong. Given the height of the bar set by "the essence of things" this is by no means a negative statement. Each of these two tracks explore unique textures and are very strong, particularly the closing track "coarse ashes", which has a density and occult charm that rewards repeated listening. The presence of what sounds like a throat singing choir throughout the duration of this piece is wonderful and provides an eerie backbone to the proceedings. It's hard to know where Halliwell ends and Korber begins on much of "The Large Glass", which is really part in parcel of the non-virtuostic nature of this type of music. I find this rewarding as it stops me focusing on the distinct parts and allows me to absorb the pieces as a whole. "The Large Glass" is a great example of the fragility of beauty and the underlying danger that makes this beauty so compelling. Derailment is completely avoided without "playing it safe". So in answer to my opening question, yes, a piece of music can be aesthetically beautiful as well as dangerous and it was exceptionally narrow-minded of me to think otherwise. As I said, I can really be a right tosser.
