Olivia Block - Heave To

Sedimental
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Even in music as abstract as that which I spend most of my time listening to these days, I’m very partial to work that imparts a strong sense of idea. This doesn’t necessarily have to be something explicit; indeed, it often seems to work better when the idea is just out of reach of being able to be clearly expressed. A free improvisation can go from one extreme to the other. On the one hand, “simply” a bunch of musicians playing, on the other something like the Rowe/Beins set on ErstLive. Neither approach guarantees quality, of course, but there’s that extra frisson of excitement to be experienced when you get the sense that someone’s really thinking about something, often something beyond the immediate sounds being created.

Olivia Block’s music has always struck me this way. I believe I heard her first two releases, “Pure Gaze” and “Mobius Fuse” at the same time and I was immediately taken in by the extraordinarily open and expansive sound world she created, one in which, in addition to an abundance of gorgeous and endlessly fascinating sonic elements arrayed in poetic fashion, she was unafraid to introduce evocations of rural America, vestiges of the heartland that most would surely shun. Last year’s brilliant “Change Ringing” on Cut continued roughly along this rich path and now comes “Heave To”, maybe the strongest thing I’ve heard from Block to date.

“Heave To”. Take a moment to appreciate that wonderful phrase. Between the cover design and many of the sounds heard herein, it’s clear that Block means to summon forth its nautical connotations, but the breathlessness, the hurtling forward of much of the music would seem to also imply the emotional heaving of the anxious breast. Three tracks here: “Heave To” parts 1 & 2 and “Make the Land”. The first bolts from the gate with a furious torrent, a vortex of (presumably) field recordings laced with twittering strings and the occasional billowing forth of massed winds. The first several minutes of this track are as exciting as anything I’ve heard all year, near chaotic but with the power and unpredictability of a cyclone. Throughout much of the disc, the three strings (Block on cello, Jonathan Chen on violin and Jen Claire Paulsen on viola) surge through the mix like huge flocks of birds disturbed from their roosts by the howling windstorm, often reminiscent in tenor of Penderecki’s feverish string work from the 60s. The remaining musicians who, aside from a percussionist, comprise seven reeds and brass, emerge and recede like the rain-masked lantern of a passing ship (and also retain echoes of the “gazebo band” references from Block’s earlier albums). The marine imagery resonates. If nothing else, I imagine lying in the belly of some massive, relatively old seacraft, the water rushing by outside, the flotsam banging off the hull, the detritus within careening about the damp, dark space.

The second part of the title piece features the strings much more up front, often playing a kind of perpetually rising pattern a la Tenney. It’s a bit less purely visceral than the opening cut (Part 1) but really no less exciting. More air has been allowed into the environment but it’s turbulent and smoky, stinging the face, though the fairly tonal wash of strings that closes out the piece is like the proverbial glimmer of sunlight through the haze. Structurally, the final work’s placement is a little curious, leaving me a bit uncertain how it’s to be read. “Make the Land” is quieter, with soft electronic burbles, hums, the odd flitting oboe and gentle recordings of what sounds like floating pieces of wood jostling in a metallic drum. It’s soothing, to be sure, and quite attractive on its own. If it’s meant as the calm after the storm, I might like to have heard more of an apparent connection to the preceding tracks.

But that’s a minor quibble. Block has kept her hitting streak alive and then some. “Heave To” is one of the strongest, deepest works I’ve heard this year. Get it.

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