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Olivia Block, "Change Ringing"
Change Ringingfollows Block’s Pure Gaze and Mobius Fuse in a trilogy of sorts,and like those belovedpieces, Change is a perfectly paced,not-a-second-too-short, 30-minute suite for chamber group and environment, everin a limbo state between where found sound ends, instrumentation begins, andwhere digital processing tangles the timeline.The piece feels more subtle and more definedthan its predecessors: mainly because there is more open space, more quiet, moreof the nagging sense of each sound’s designation in both breaking down thetransparency of the whole and working within it. PureGaze and Mobius Fuse worked firstas beauteous, lush journeys aloft on the dream currents of muffled fireworks,bowed strings, night insects and organ wash. Only later would the pieces break down and settle in the mind, letting somekind of science develop out of Block’s diverse archeology. ChangeRinging feels intent on rushing that settling.
The opening trombone bleat/fog horn/syntheticblast (you can never tell) acts almost like a volume check, setting up for aclose listen. The section of gurgling,chirping tones that follows remind me of works by Matthew Schumacher and theircreation of an immaterial surface that rustles, fades, and pops withoutbecoming so effervescent as to engage its own disappearance or shimmeraway. Snatches of woody, resonantinstruments closely recorded bounce off of pure tones and the slight cracks ofsomething outside, in a blanket of thick, gliding strands. Another fog horn from the silence brings thesecond phase, the bizarre traffic of fire-cracking static, an earthy rustle,and the parts of a few instruments,no doubt including Bhob Rainey’s sax in full clap and miniature shuffle.
The key, of course, is Block’s recordingmethod and volumetric arrangements; high volume listening really pulls the headin thousand places, and average levels will have you in a pleasant strainingfor the details. Change’s conclusion is a stew of quiet commotion, outsides,insides, and inbetweens gathering in a blissful flux of indescribabledirection. Chamber stings equalunderwater poolhall equal screaming blues of sky inside a twist of bark: asquabbling that is not uniform, not even a working together, but a fittingtogether, a wonderful, befitting fitting together.
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