Right on the heels of Berlin Reeds Absinthe gives us “Berlin Strings.” Once again, we’re presented with four 3” discs, each dedicated to a single artist based in that city, lovingly and beautifully displayed in a hand-stitched package, an edition limited to only 200 copies. The four musicians each ply their art on strings of one sort or another, though you’d often be hard-pressed to tell.
Andrea Neumann, wielding her customary “inside-piano” and mixing desk, offers four marvelous, abstract noise-scapes, making generally rhythmic use of static crackles and other seeming detritus. The second track, “*,” is exceptionally furious, a rampaging locomotive of crunches and bangs. Her last piece, the elegantly titled “end of a motor noticed by five pick ups,” is a wonderful refinement of found sound, the motor in question thrumming away, its pulsations augmented, enhanced or reduced in mysterious ways by Neumann, never anything less than fascinating.
The scene shifts drastically for Michael Renkel, a guitarist who played alongside Neumann in the improvising ensemble Phosphor. Something in the manner of Burkhard Stangl, Renkel approaches his instrument in a relatively traditional style — that is to say it’s usually recognizable as a guitar. His single piece, “Tranz aronez,” is quite delicate, nearly pastoral. One can almost imagine Derek Bailey in an extremely placid mood, content with the occasional well-placed strum. Toward the end of the work, Renkel (it seems) accompanies himself on bowed zither, sounding like a plaintive wail from a faraway harmonica. The effect is gently stirring, lending a melancholic air to the earlier lolling about.
You could hardly ask for a greater contrast than that between Renkel and Olaf Rupp. Holding his guitar sitar-fashion, Rupp presents a series of nine compositions grouped under the title “Metal Peace” that occupy the rarely visited territory roughly halfway between Bailey and flamenco, maybe closer to Paco de Lucia for that matter. There’s a sort of visceral excitement to many of the sections — Rupp’s playing is quite energetic and immediate, even manic — but one has a sneaking suspicion of there being a bit more flash than substance. In the context of the 4-disc set, however, it does make for an attractive break. And, damn it, it is infectious.
Gears are shifted abruptly once again for the final set, a piece by Serge Baghdassarians for electric guitar and mixing desk titled, “versuch, eine welle zu lessen.” An ultra-minimal sequence of rustlings and stirrings over a very highly pitched sine wave, there’s little material to grasp onto but its very bleakness offers some amount if interest. Others have worked this field to better effect (Sachiko M, for example), but Baghdassarian’s anti-music music is a suitable palate cleanser after the excessive but enjoyable richness of Rupp and brings this suite to a satisfying conclusion.
Berlin Strings showcases four very different talents (and a major one in Neumann), giving the merest glimpse of the wealth of creativity on the German free improv scene these days. It’s well worth hearing and, with such a limited supply you’re advised to get it while it’s hot.
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