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A HAWK AND A HACKSAW, "DARKNESS AT NOON"
A Hawk and a Hacksaw is chiefly the work of Jeremy Barnes, previouslyof krautrock brain-sizzlers Bablicon, and more recently of Guignol, abizarre one-off with members of Volcano the Bear. With A Hawk and aHacksaw, Barnes takes many of the European folk music fixations firstglimpsed on the Guignol album to their logical conclusion, creating asuite of ethnographical crossbreeds of indigenous music from France,Spain, Czech, Great Britain and Mexico.
The Leaf Label
There are clear and obviousreferences to Klezmer, French street music and Flamenco idioms in themusic, and less obvious hints of Mariachi, American and Brit trad-folk.Though the music here is still unmistakably the work of Jeremy Barnes,with odd passages of psychedelic whimsy, the strangeness comes mostlyfrom unexpected cultural juxtapositions and stylisticcross-germinations, rather than from the extended, improvised freakoutsof his previous projects. There is a new emphasis placed oncomposition, musicianship and melody on Darkness at Noon,bringing the project closer in style to groups such as The MagicCarphathians or The One Ensemble of Daniel Padden. Most tracks arebased around Barnes' accordion playing, which is by turns fast andfurious, or slow and droning. Filling out the sound are an array ofinstruments drawn from at least three continents: harp, oud, Turkishcumbus, jaw harp and an array of percussion. For the most part, thealbum is bright, energetic and upbeat, with all the instrumentalelements in perfect synch with each other. "Laughter in the Dark"begins with a Morricone Mexico-by-way-of-Italia trumpet solo, soonjoined by Barnes' squeezebox and percussion. The track slowly anddecisively builds to a fantastically orgasmic center, with a resoundingchorus of voices chanting words drawn from a George W. Bush speech. Thedistinctly Gallic sound of "The Moon Under Water" sounds like a lostcut from Yann Tiersen's soundtrack to Amelie, while "The Water Underthe Moon" is a romantic waltz with strings and piano that skips overwet cobblestones on a dark European street. Perhaps its just that mybrain seems to leap to film imagery, but there are many moments on Darkness at Noon when I was reminded of classic cinema like Reed's The Third Man (shades of Anton Karas' gypsy music score) and Fellini's carnivalesque La Strada."For Slavoj" is a musical tribute to the great postmodern thinkerSlavoj Zizek, playing on the Lacanian philosopher's ideas of nostalgiaand kitsch with a recollective folk tune, replete with syrupy repeatedchorus of "I love you," before dissolving into Steve Reich-style modernclassical piano piece. This is just one of many examples of the breadthand scope of AHAAH's eclectic musical vision, which for all of itshard-won complexity, arrives to my ears as a deliciously gelled andeminently listenable whole.
The Leaf Label
There are clear and obviousreferences to Klezmer, French street music and Flamenco idioms in themusic, and less obvious hints of Mariachi, American and Brit trad-folk.Though the music here is still unmistakably the work of Jeremy Barnes,with odd passages of psychedelic whimsy, the strangeness comes mostlyfrom unexpected cultural juxtapositions and stylisticcross-germinations, rather than from the extended, improvised freakoutsof his previous projects. There is a new emphasis placed oncomposition, musicianship and melody on Darkness at Noon,bringing the project closer in style to groups such as The MagicCarphathians or The One Ensemble of Daniel Padden. Most tracks arebased around Barnes' accordion playing, which is by turns fast andfurious, or slow and droning. Filling out the sound are an array ofinstruments drawn from at least three continents: harp, oud, Turkishcumbus, jaw harp and an array of percussion. For the most part, thealbum is bright, energetic and upbeat, with all the instrumentalelements in perfect synch with each other. "Laughter in the Dark"begins with a Morricone Mexico-by-way-of-Italia trumpet solo, soonjoined by Barnes' squeezebox and percussion. The track slowly anddecisively builds to a fantastically orgasmic center, with a resoundingchorus of voices chanting words drawn from a George W. Bush speech. Thedistinctly Gallic sound of "The Moon Under Water" sounds like a lostcut from Yann Tiersen's soundtrack to Amelie, while "The Water Underthe Moon" is a romantic waltz with strings and piano that skips overwet cobblestones on a dark European street. Perhaps its just that mybrain seems to leap to film imagery, but there are many moments on Darkness at Noon when I was reminded of classic cinema like Reed's The Third Man (shades of Anton Karas' gypsy music score) and Fellini's carnivalesque La Strada."For Slavoj" is a musical tribute to the great postmodern thinkerSlavoj Zizek, playing on the Lacanian philosopher's ideas of nostalgiaand kitsch with a recollective folk tune, replete with syrupy repeatedchorus of "I love you," before dissolving into Steve Reich-style modernclassical piano piece. This is just one of many examples of the breadthand scope of AHAAH's eclectic musical vision, which for all of itshard-won complexity, arrives to my ears as a deliciously gelled andeminently listenable whole.samples:
