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David Gross & Liz Tonne, "Performing Sunday 7:30"
Sedimental
The artists have, thankfully, chosen cover art and title which testifyto these performances occurring at locations on the surface of theEarth, the Southern U.S. no less, instead of in some forgotten fissureof the planet's crust or from the edge of an astral plane, far, far inthe distance as the music would suggest. The 10" contains two sidelongselections from stops along a small duo tour in 2001. Gross, whoalongside Greg Kelley and Bhob Rainey has helped put the Boston improvscene on the map, commissioned Tonne's exploratory vocal talents forthe tour, following a single, fruitful collaboration earlier that year.The reeds-man's impulsiveness does not disappoint, as his increasinglybizarre, limit-crossing assault on sax and clarinet finds a perfectcounterpart in his companion's strained pipes. Much of Gross' playingfocuses on a baffling expansion of the sounds and textures available toa particular instrument. His blowing reaches squealing pitches thatbelong to the ambiance of the motorway or factory space, his lowwarbles and grating trills enough to transform every hair on the bodyinto a lightning rod. Most impressive, though, are his extended boutsof pushing note-less air through the saxophone, creating completelyalien whistles, scrapes, and dry rustles. In short, his is eye-popping,head-rushing, and blood-quickening music that must be heard to bebelieved. Tonne's contribution is equally arresting. The vocalist'sattunement to the nuance and textured rise-and-fall of Gross' playingis remarkable, her voice rising to match the most challenging pitchesor inhuman bits of vibrato. The tendency to mistake one musician forthe other is a risk even after hearing the record several times, aphenomenon that fills the listening experience with frequent moments ofutter disbelief. Tonne builds gliding, theremin-like tones, archingmasterfully into frightening high-pitched shrieks and lowly half-moanswith clear precedent in artists like Diamanda Galas or the venerablePatty Waters. Her most unique talent, however, is the incorporation offoreign syllabic utterances, a kind of glossolalian scat spread acrossGross' varied landscape with enough restraint to keep it wondrouslyeffective. The vocal style brings a subtle degree of future-primitivismto the pieces, recalling the free-calligraphy techniques used by manyAbstract Expressionist painters. My only complaint is that this releasewas not expanded to 12" or full length CD; both pieces fade out withthe wish that at least the room ambiance or a bit of Gross' clappingair-holes might continue long enough to inspire Tonne to swoop backinto song. I can only hope that the duo was pleased enough with theseinitial excursions to take more, soon.
The artists have, thankfully, chosen cover art and title which testifyto these performances occurring at locations on the surface of theEarth, the Southern U.S. no less, instead of in some forgotten fissureof the planet's crust or from the edge of an astral plane, far, far inthe distance as the music would suggest. The 10" contains two sidelongselections from stops along a small duo tour in 2001. Gross, whoalongside Greg Kelley and Bhob Rainey has helped put the Boston improvscene on the map, commissioned Tonne's exploratory vocal talents forthe tour, following a single, fruitful collaboration earlier that year.The reeds-man's impulsiveness does not disappoint, as his increasinglybizarre, limit-crossing assault on sax and clarinet finds a perfectcounterpart in his companion's strained pipes. Much of Gross' playingfocuses on a baffling expansion of the sounds and textures available toa particular instrument. His blowing reaches squealing pitches thatbelong to the ambiance of the motorway or factory space, his lowwarbles and grating trills enough to transform every hair on the bodyinto a lightning rod. Most impressive, though, are his extended boutsof pushing note-less air through the saxophone, creating completelyalien whistles, scrapes, and dry rustles. In short, his is eye-popping,head-rushing, and blood-quickening music that must be heard to bebelieved. Tonne's contribution is equally arresting. The vocalist'sattunement to the nuance and textured rise-and-fall of Gross' playingis remarkable, her voice rising to match the most challenging pitchesor inhuman bits of vibrato. The tendency to mistake one musician forthe other is a risk even after hearing the record several times, aphenomenon that fills the listening experience with frequent moments ofutter disbelief. Tonne builds gliding, theremin-like tones, archingmasterfully into frightening high-pitched shrieks and lowly half-moanswith clear precedent in artists like Diamanda Galas or the venerablePatty Waters. Her most unique talent, however, is the incorporation offoreign syllabic utterances, a kind of glossolalian scat spread acrossGross' varied landscape with enough restraint to keep it wondrouslyeffective. The vocal style brings a subtle degree of future-primitivismto the pieces, recalling the free-calligraphy techniques used by manyAbstract Expressionist painters. My only complaint is that this releasewas not expanded to 12" or full length CD; both pieces fade out withthe wish that at least the room ambiance or a bit of Gross' clappingair-holes might continue long enough to inspire Tonne to swoop backinto song. I can only hope that the duo was pleased enough with theseinitial excursions to take more, soon.
