As part of the London
Improvisers Orchestra, American-born and London-based
instrumentalist Caroline Kraabel is no
stranger to electro-acoustic incorporations of all varieties, but Where We Were takes
such concerns to the next level. While the playing is outstanding, it
is the world invoked
between each utterance that makes the disc one of the most fascinating
soundscape
pieces in recent memory.
The
accompanying booklet speaks matter-of-factly and touchingly about
life’s progression
over the four-year period in which the hours of music were recorded—in
greenhouses,
anechoic chambers, wells, tunnels and a noisy pub. These are only
veiled
landmarks, linear practicalities that merely hint at what emerges when
you press play.
Location becomes as simultaneously clear and elusive as pitch, attack,
decay. The addition of
vocals, sometimes doubling another instrument, is
powerful enough to bring on aching nostalgia but never a distraction.
In
fact, the disc is a study in
understatement, more and more of it devoted to near silence as the
piece proceeds. Some
environmental transitions are slow, some disconcertingly fast,
whatever software was employed for the final edits enabling many such
shifts. One of the
most striking narrative juxtapositions opens the disc as a chatty
audience slowly fades to a
distant car alarm, the sound maybe coming from just outside the pub
window—or is it from
some other time and place?
The
disc reveals more background each time one listens. To attempt any kind
of linear
explanation would go against everything the duo has achieved. It was
clearly a labor of love
for a favorite city, and the results are as stunning, as infinitely
simple, as the cityscape it
captures.
Marc
Medwin -
All About
Jazz
These duets were recorded over a period of four years in several
different locations throughout Liverpool: an anechoic chamber, a
tunnel, a street, a dome-shaped library, a pub, etc. Hargreaves and
Kraabel thenmixed all the hours of tape using computer software to
create a single 50 minute piece of music that blends the ambiences,
extraneous sounds and improvised moments together. It's a delightful
listen. However, as nice as the saxophone (and brief flute) playing is,
that's not really what draws one repeatedly back to the disc. Instead,
it's the feeling of stepping into a journey that two musical friends
took together all over the city for a number of years: we get to tag
along on their fun in a way that makes usfeel at home even as they
venture beyond their own.
The varied atmoshpheres make room for multiple horn attacks -
drones yips down a well, staccato vocal bounces, etc. - as the gifted
duo mine their playful instrumental breadth and traverse their town.
Even when you can't tell where they are, the different kinds of
silences that surround their sounds tell a vivid story. Where We
Were is an invitation to an intimate musical adventure shared all
over a city's public spaces.
Andrew Choate, Coda
Magazine
With Where We
Were, Caroline Kraabel and Phil Hargreaves have run wild with the
lessons of John Cage's Roaratorio, a piece hich mixed Cage's own
readings from James Joyce's Finnegans Wake with live Irish folk
musicians and pre-recorded sounds from the locations referenced by
Joyce in his text. In Where We Were Kraabel and Hargreaves present a
series of improvisations recorded in "extraordinary acoustic locations
in Liverpool", the idea being to offer "playing (that) was appropriate
of beautiful or effective in the location."
The result is a
courageous, ravishingly beautiful and unique contribution to improvised
music. Kraabel and Hargreaves made three visits to Liverpool over a
four-year period, and the raw material recorded during those trips was
edited into a vivid 49-minute soundscape, the post production process
creating an unbroken stream of consciousness. During its opening
moments, resonant saxophones feel like they're morphing out of what
sounds to me like the foghorns on Liverpool docks. Later the yapping
tones of a dog barking is picked up by Kraabel's spiky vocalising and
becomes transformed into a wall of saxophone noise, fascinatingly
shaped and coloured. Other improvisations take a more oblique and
abstract approach, but the sense that they're evolving wholly out of
the supple contours and curves of their acoustic environment remains at
the forefront; no licks or expediency here.
Forget the
Beatles and Tarby, Where We Were is Liverpool revealed in truer glory.
A website, www.wherewewere.info, reveals more of the ins-and-outs.
Philip Clark,
Jazz Review
Naturlich kann
man das in Etappen uber einen Zeitraum von vier Jahren von Caroline
Kraabel & Phil Hargreaves gestaltete Projekt Where We Were, Shadows
of Liverpool (LR 407) simpel als Duoeinspielungen zweier
Saxophonenisten bezeichnen. Aber Kraabel, die in dieser Zeit zweimal
Mutter geworden ist, weist in ihrem Linernotestatement mit gutem Grund
auf einige Besonderheiten hin. Als Musikerin, deren Artikulation in
erster Linie auf der Verbindung ihres Korpers mit einem Altosaxophon in
einer spezifischen Zeit und einem spezifischen Raum basiert, ist der
binaurale, digitale Aufnaheprozess, die computerunterstutzte Edition
und die warenformige Konservierung und Teleportation ihrer
Klangkreationen in besonderer Weise ein Akt der Schizophonie. Aud
diesem Dilemma, das improvisierender Musiker mehr als andere betrifft,
leitet sie keine Klage gegen den Verlust von Unmittelbarkeit ab, sie
versucht vielmehr ein Bewusstsein zusharfen fur die unstande, die im
Klang, der aus den Lautsprechern in fremden Wohnzimmern schallt,
eingebacken sind. Kraabel und ihr Partner and Tenor- & Sopranosax
und Flote spielten ihre Duetter in grosseren Zeitabstanden an
ausgewahlten Orten in Liverpool ein, der St Georges Hall, dem Mersey
Tunnel, der Picton Library im Anechoic-Raum der Universitat, einem
Gewachshaus der Sefton Park Allotments, im The Grapes in der Mount
street und dem Jump Ship Rat in der Parr Street. Anschliessend wurde
das Material zu einem durchgehenden Soundscape verbunden. Statt,
sauberer Studio-High-Fidelity hort man hier das Rauschen, den Hall, die
spezifische Klang-atmosphare der Shauplatze mit. Die bewusst
verunklarten bilder dieser Horraumue qeigen die Industrieund Hafenstadt
als einen prunkvolen Schauplatz des Neoklassizismux und jenes (einst)
neureichen Stils, den wir Gelsenkirchener Barock nennen wurden. Nur,
Informationen bleiben Informationen. mehr als ein Bottger-Effekt fallt
fur die rein sinnliche Wahrnehmung kaum ab. Was ankommt, is dennoch
spannend genug - zwei eigenwillige Reedblaser, die Geisterverwandte in
siptember Winds finden konnten, und ihre ambiente, klangfarbenreiche,
environmentale Kommunikation miteinander und mit den Klangraumen, die
sie beschallen, abtasten und ausloten.
Caroline Kraabel
(ts, voc) et Phil Hargreaves (tss, fl, voc) se recontrent en differents
lieux de Liverpool pour se livrer a des interpretations libres. Ces
deux musiciens creent in situ une musique totalement improvisee, y
melant aussi un traitement electronique. Un dialogue constant,
abstrait, atonal, ou la demarche a deux, si j'ose dire, est le fruit
d'inventeurs de nouveaux sons, parfois a la limite de la comprehension,
mais totalement captivants, semble-t-il, pour les amateurs de Boulez et
de sa suite. Belle ouverture sur le XXIe siecle (explication sur la
pochette du procede technique)
Jazz
Notes
Alto saxophonist
Caroline Kraabel and tenor/soprano saxophonist and flutist Phil
Hargreaves recorded a number of duos together over the course of four
years, in various acoustic spaces around Liverpool, England: St.
George's Hall, Wallasey Tunnel at Picton Library, a street and alleyway
near Penny Lane, an anechoic chamber at Liverpool University, a
greenhouse on the Sefton Park Allotments, et cetera. Rather than
presenting the recordings from each individual space as separate tracks
on Where we Were, Kraabel and Hargreaves blended them together into a
fifty-minute suite that shifts between acoustic environments. (For ease
of listening, the suite is divided into four tracks, but these are not
to be heard as discrete movements.)
Under ordinary
circumstances, this might seem to be an exercise in sonic disconnect --
after all, changes in acoustics usually delineate radical shifts on
most recordings, where producers fight feverishly to make all of the
parts, even if they were recorded in disparate locations, sound like
they came from "the same place", via studio gadgetry and reverb.
Kraabel and Hargreaves have other designs. While their playing exhibits
considerable freedom and improvisational ingenuity, the duo was also
careful to include certain musical gestures, particularly long held
intervals, in all of their recordings in the field. Later, these were
used as musical "hinge points", allowing for a more fluid transition
between acoustic environments.
These formal
unifiers allow the listener to experience shifts of acoustic in an
entirely different way. Instead of creating a disconnect, these changes
of place become changes of timbre. Similar gestures, such as
Hargreaves's soprano saxophone trills and Kraabel's single note
crescendos, are given entirely different weight and resonance when
played in various locales. Reverberant tunnels and bridges impart a
wide sweep to the music, as well as an accumulation of echoing canons
bouncing back. More intimate spaces, like street corners and alleys,
yield the chatter of passersby, rendering Kraabel and Hargreaves,
momentarily at least, as a sort of free improv street duo. The
musicians occasionally lend their voices to the recording as well,
testing the acoustics of a space with held notes and fragile melodies.
Despite a
critic's best intentions, describing any sound recording with words
offers at best a woefully incomplete sense of its content. This is
particularly true of Where We Were. You really have to experience it
yourself in order to comprehend the incredible aural journey crafted by
Kraabel and Hargreaves -- and once you have, you'll never think about
sound and space in the same way again.
--Christian Carey
http://www.splendidezine.com/review.html?reviewid=1102934923402926
Ned
Rothenberg/Peter A. Schmid En Passant Creative Works Caroline
Kraabel/Phil Hargreaves Where we were: shadows of Liverpool Leo
Superficially
similar, these two reed duos show how dissimilar wind-instrument
combinations can be, especially if the primary concept is set out at
the get-go.
Interestingly
enough, each of the duos includes one American and one European, but
the contrasts have little to do with geography. En Passant can be heard
as a tradition improv meeting -- if that isn’t an oxymoron. New Yorker
Ned Rothenberg brought his clarinet, bass clarinet, alto saxophone and
shakuhachi to a studio in Switzerland to meet Peter A. Schmid, a Swiss
stylist who plays taragot, bass clarinet, contrabass clarinet and tubax
-- a specially designed bass saxophone. They proceeded to play together
right off with little or no pre-planning, and then Rothenberg went off
to his next gig. Thus the altogether appropriate title, which in
English translates as “passing through”. Both men are veteran free
improvisers in reed combinations, and what’s more, each has recorded a
reed duet with Englishman Evan Parker.
Moving across
the channel, London-based, Seattle-born Caroline Kraabel brought her
alto saxophone and voice to Liverpool in 2000, where she and local reed
hero Phil Hargreaves -- who plays soprano and tenor saxophones, flute
and sort of vocalizes here -- recorded a series of duets. Rather than
head into a studio to do so however, they schlepped a DAT machine with
them to and recorded outside in seven locations in that British city.
Over the next four years the two utilized computer technology to edit
the material into one, nearly 50-minute piece that stitches together
whole performances, fragments of others, and genuine sounds of the
city.
There’s no
chance you would confuse either CD in a blindfold test. In the studio,
Rothenberg and Schmid’s strategy depends on which instruments are in
use. On alto, clarinet or shakuhachi the American frequently improvises
airy decorations, letting the Swiss on the lower- pitched horns to
provide the rhythmic ostinato.
More challenging
are those instances when both men wield monstrous horns. On the
more-than-11- minute “SchRoth #2”, for instance, the slurred vibrations
echoing from two bass clarinets are so ponderous that you could be
forgiven for thinking that the track was recorded in an underground
mine. Amplifying bottom tones, both reedists add buoyant colors to the
creation. At one point Rothenberg squeals unconnected legato tones as
Schmid provides the pedal point. Then they mesh with double
counterpoint tongue slaps, only to split asunder again. Schmid
continues his lower-pitched growls as Rothenberg sprays keening
rhythmic lines on top of that. After intersecting in different keys,
together they pursue the same intermezzo, retarded with note snaps and
key percussion. Veering towards the fragmented, the piece ends with
both spewing sharp, unconnected arpeggios at one another. On other
parts of the CD, when they’re not snorting dark-textured broken
counterpoint, for instance, the low-horn duo turn to tongue slaps,
smears and honks as on “SchRoth #8”, with the American on bass clarinet
and the Swiss on contrabass clarinet. Sporadically, the multi-pitched
hues produced by diaphragm vibrations suggest the soundtrack for
barnyard feeding time involving baby chicks and a large sow.
In contrast, a
track like “SchRoth #9”, plays up the contrasts between Rothenberg’s
alto saxophone and Schmid’s tubax. With the latter spewing stentorian
continuum and the former providing high-pitched, broken chords, the
lock step soon breaks apart. Minor-key alto lines turn into a
gigue-like melody of repetitive multiphonics, while Schmid’s snorts
bury themselves further into the earth.
Furthermore,
Schmid’s molasses-slow tubax growls on “SchRoth #5” seem to emanate
from the lowermost reaches of his horn’s cylindrical tube as they vie
for space with floating, double-tonguing from Rothenberg’s flute-like
shakuhachi. Combined, the textures produced by the ancient Japanese
bamboo flute adhere so credibly with tones from the newly invented 21st
century instrument, that the result could be polyphonic gagaku or court
music.
Similarly,
there’s an atypical point on Where we were that Hargreaves’
out-of-character ethereal flute playing makes it sound as if he and
Kraabel have created gagaku or even pseudo New Age sounds. Luckily that
doesn’t last very long. Soon Hargreaves, whose past playing partners
have included tougher mates like Phil Morton on guitar and treatments
or bassist Simon H. Fell, is back on track and saxophone, as dual reed
tones almost brutally ricochet off the walls.
Down-pedaling to
breathy single notes, the two are interrupted for a few seconds by
genuine bird songs, then as reeds resonate in harmony, the saxes have
to overcome traffic rumbles and police sirens shrills. Allowing for
more silence here than elsewhere, the two turn from throaty, split
tones expelled in a whine, to tongue slaps alternating with single note
smears. After trying glottal punctuation and bell muting against a leg
or hand, curt resonation turns the output to hocketing broken cadences,
ranging from nephritic growls to aviary-like polyphonic harmonies.
Liverpudlian
Hargreaves, and Kraabel, who also plays in the London Improvisers
Orchestra and in a trio with vocalist Maggie Nicols and Swiss violist
Charlotte Hug, had agreed on certain improvising strategies before
beginning their sound stroll. Thus, often held intervals bridge sonic
awkwardness. Furthermore, only for a split second a little more than 17
minutes on do you notice the one, very audible, change in the recording
environment. Despite chattering crowds and other sonic impediments, the
remainder of the sounds meld seamlessly.
Eschewing for
the most part a flute tone that can sound like Paul Horn recorded at
the great pyramid, on saxophones Hargreaves prefers staccato phrases,
splintered multiphonics and irregular vibrations. His controlled
dissonance aims every which way. Taking advantage of the actualities as
well, at one point he integrates the echo of passing footstep alongside
reed smears or resonating flute vibrations. Initially enamored with
punk rock, Kraabel likes to use her voice, sometimes on its own -- as
when what seems to be animal cries are heard in conjunction with the
saxophone -- or vocalized through her horn to add a third harmony to
the proceedings. Quirky oral whoops and cries echo horn lines, or, in
another dramatic moment, the soprano saxophone mirrors her voice to
such an extent that before long the dissonant tones can’t be ascribe to
either larynx or metal and reed.
By the CD’s end
both reedists appear to be in perfectly symmetry with one another,
turning disparate tongue slaps and pitch vibratos from plain repetition
to wavers and flutters. By this time moreover, the reed timbres sounded
a half step from one other, mesh polyphonically before fading out in
poetic harmony.
Two horn duos --
two distinct way to approach the partnership -- two equally valid
systems.
Ken Waxman
28th Feb 2005
www.jazzword.com
Made over four
years in an anechoic chamber and mostly the streets, greenhouses, bars,
tunnels, libraries and halls of Liverpool by the over-modest (imported)
national treasure Caroline Kraabel (sax, voice) and bat-eared Phil
Hargreaves (saxes, flute, voice), this is that rare thing - a recording
that captures a mutual musicality in the context of -indeed inseparable
from - real places and real times. It's hard to explain why this works
so well - why should the acoustic and ambience of a site so transform
the musical material? Perhaps because psychoacoustically our ears are
designed to assess and picture place from the minute shifts in
reverberation and tone that open location recordings provide. Studio
recordings as a rule go out of their way to eliminate all this
'unwanted' data and wind up flat, or at least fake like a painting:
perspective is still not space. Here is space.
ReR
megacorp
Point culminant
de quatre années de travail et de rencontres entre ces deux
saxophonistes hors normes, Where We Were... est un disque de longue
haleine enregistré dans des lieux inhabituels de Liverpool, aux
acoustiques qui permettent de repousser les limites de
l’électro-acoustique (un hall, un foyer de théâtre,
un tunnel, une bibliothèque, une chambre acoustique de
laboratoire universitaire, des églises, des coins de rues).
Enregistrés avec la technologie binaurale (l’écoute au
casque est recommandée), ces duos sont une idée de Phil
Hargreaves, vivement intéressé par les travaux de
Caroline Kraabel sur le temps et la mémoire (interaction entre
la technologie électronique et le son acoustique). Pour la
plupart en public, ces rencontres témoignent en chaque occasion
d'un plaisir palpable. Le dialogue entre les saxophonistes est riche,
modulé et extrême dans les variations et nous
évite, avec beaucoup de justesse, la neutralité d’un
studio d’enregistrement quel qu’il soit. De la musique
improvisée chaleureuse, voilà un disque qui va clouer le
bec à bien des mauvaises langues…
Octopus
(le journal en ligne des musiques libres et inventives)
listen to an extract from the CD
this is the
first 7'45" of the CD release, in MP3 format
