Mephista - Entomological Reflections

Tzadik 7711

Here is a trio whose name is aptly chosen. Dark, mysterious, seductive and even a bit demonic in their shared search for musical space outside their usual stomping grounds. Each of the three points of this particular triangle has an assumed forte. For Courvoisier it’s expertly rendered chamber improv with strong credentials in free and classical camps. Mori is the maverick delegate from the field of laptop electronics, one who creates ambient textures from an unpredictable palette of samples and sources. Ibarra favors a percussive scope steeped in detail and dynamics rather than volume and density. Her facility on a breadth of non-Western drumming implements also separates her from the majority of her immediate peers. Each of these women also has a reputation for regularly subverting her customary role, especially in the context of the ensemble at hand.

On Entomological Reflections, the trio’s sophomore Tzadik outing, Mori still shoulders the primary duty of colorist, doling out snippets of static and shaping washes of crackle-circuited detritus that caulk the crevices between her colleagues less alien drum and piano patterns. The nebulous nature of her instrument’s parameters makes it difficult for her take any sort of conventional lead, but there are numerous points, such as during the amorphous orbit that is “Void,” where she does just that, guiding Ibarra and Courvoisier down tributaries seldom traveled in their own work. The disc’s fifteen tracks are nearly all of uniformly economical lengths, the longest clocking at just under six minutes and several registering far less, Mori‘s “Apartment” is but a passing fragment. Their brevity supplies another challenge. How exactly to communicate meaningfully together under short temporal spans and still come up with cogent, reflexive interplay. Surface level listening carries the nagging feeling that these three are trafficking in the same clutch of tricks. It’s the deeper delving and attention that reveals the true reach of their explorations.

Compositions are credited to each of the three women collectively and individually, but most seem to take shape out of a high degree of communal improvisation. For “Drôle de Mots” the three become percussionists with Mori and Courvoisier carving out splintered rhythms right alongside Ibarra. Mori ends the colloquy with a protracted drone. Ibarra continues the drum-centered tack with “Cardiogram” her sticks stamping out an arrhythmic tattoo in broken time with the piano’s stuttering keystrokes and Mori’s ping pong flits and flutters. The cross-court volley continues in a call and response between Courvoisier’s stammering digits and the answering clatter of her colleagues. “Fractions” maps an auditory seascape of sonar beam blips, cymbal and tom whitecaps, eddying piano string plucks and dampened key flourishes.

Ibarra assembles her kulintang for “Le Châtgeau de Cène” engaging in another oblique communion with restlessly chosen piano chords and swirling spectral electronics. On “Beloukia” Ibarra’s chimes and cymbals are nearly indistinguishable from the trickling sonic rivulets set in motion by Mori’s whirring high-speed chipsets. “Shifting Roll” takes the action out on an appropriately ambiguous note as Ibarra hammers out an ominous backbeat interrupted by snatches of piano-driven melody and Mori’s preferred plethora of whirlybird accents and effects. Those with electronics allergies will almost certainly have their ailment inflamed by the music here, but others with stronger immunities are strongly advised to investigate the itinerary of Mephista’s new expedition up close and personal. The miles logged reveal a plentitude of aural oddities and wonders for the sets of ears willing to behear them.