#falt

  Evaporation by Ryoko Akama/Anne-F Jacques

Jacques and Akama had previously collaborated on a project called Failed Experiments at the Algomech Festival (Algorithmic + Mechanical Movement) in 2017 where they presented installation/performances using “precarious contraptions made from mundane objects, simple electronics and magnets.” In January 2018, they presented performances in New York and Boston, both of which are captured on Evaporation. Both recordings clock in at around 23 minutes, each unfolding with an unwavering assuredness. “Live in New York, Experimental Intermedia,” performed in Phill Niblock’s loft, commences with quiet clatters that wind their way up to insistently looping scrapes and softly sputtering metallic clinks. There is a physicality that comes through as the patterns continually swerve away from clean repetition. The elemental materiality of abraded surfaces is captured with clear, spatial detail, providing a sense of the sounds shifting in the performance space. The two employ an even-handed patience, letting sounds accrue and sit, purposefully letting layers run out while adding new sounds in. The propulsive wave becomes mesmerizing in all of its metamorphosing striations. About halfway through, a clean tone is introduced, providing a focus as the tingle of bells and the percussive clanking wind down. But even that tone begins to get rasped into a reedy hum as the activity becomes more and more dispersed.

“Live in Boston, Vernon Street Studios” was recorded in the studio of musician and visual artist Morgan Evans-Weiler a week and a half later. Here, things are more restless than the New York set, with disparate sounds and textures moving in parallel, intersecting and breaking apart in continuously unspooling rivulets. Patterns and loops do emerge, but there is of a sense of resolute experimentation that comes through a bit more. That said, the entire set still maintains a clear grasp of an overarching sonic arc by both. They each balance a willingness to let things veer toward the edge of instability while still maintaining a responsiveness toward the collectively evolving improvisation. Here, they let densities and tensions mount as the layers coalesce, moving toward a final wind-down that wraps back around to the jostling trajectory of the opening.

without by Anne-F Jacques/Ryoko Akama

The cassette release Without on the French Falt label takes a very different tact. Here, one side of the cassette is a recording by Anne-F Jacques and the other by Ryoko Akama with each following a score by Akama. The notes suggest listening to both sides at once. While these recordings share the processes and strategies of the live duo recordings, the nature of the recordings are quite different, with each utilizing a different approach to their respective takes. Jacques close-mics her setup moving patiently through sets of mechanical sounds. Using this approach brings out a full range of sonic gradation, from deep bass reverberations to crisp metallic crackles to subtle scuffed textures to low rumbles to the gentle hum of motor oscillations. Across the 13 and a half minute recording, she moves seamlessly from sound source to sound source, creating an intimate, detailed piece. Even here, though, the meticulous detail of the recording captures the unstable nature of the devices she has constructed.  

Akama heads outside for her recording and finger snaps, harmonica, sputtering abrasive sounds, sharp crackles and the ambience of passing cars and bursts of breeze are woven together into a slowly evolving piece. It is difficult to ascertain whether this was all captured in real-time or whether it was constructed in the studio, but the spontaneous flow of the piece makes those distinctions irrelevant. As with Jacques’ recording, Akama moves between sounds and sources, letting the sounds gather and transition with a natural ease over the course of 14 and a half minutes. Following the suggestion of listening to both together, I slapped the two on top of each other to take a listen. As with the live recordings, the parallel activities meld together into a propulsive whole. Even after listening to the separate parts in isolation, the way that the two recordings converge is revelatory. Details pop out of the resulting mix and then dissolve back into the morphing whole. But it is enthralling to hear how effectively moments play off of each other, even having been recorded continents apart. Akama’s recording is a minute longer than Jacques’ and since I synched the two to start together a minute from the end, one can hear the sound-space open up bringing focus on the ambiences that Akama captured. Whether that was planned or a serendipitous outcome, it provides a perfect ending to the long-distance collaboration.