Ellen Fullman/Sean Meehan - s/t

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There are a couple of problematic aspects in the pairing of Ellen Fullman and Sean Meehan. While the surface affinity is clear—Fullman’s horizontal stroking-while-walking of extended lengths of wire has a reasonable amount in common with Meehan’s vertical caressing of thin, wooden dowels placed perpendicular to a cymbal or gong atop a snare drum—the “doubling up” of the two approaches doesn’t necessarily amount to music that’s twice as intriguing. Second, whatever attractions Fullman’s music has for a given listener, it’s a very physical activity in the sense of materially inhabiting a large space, something that almost automatically suffers when rendered to disc. I’ve only once witnessed a performance of hers, at Columbia University some eight years ago, and while I wasn’t terribly taken with the music per se, the sheer acoustic phenomenon was impressive to be amidst.

That said, the recorded music is what it is and it’s not bad at all. Twining drones, Meehan’s perhaps a bit grittier and tending toward the higher ranges, Fullman’s mellower with more hum, fluctuating from high to low. Different degrees of force are achieved; you get a nice sense of torque in the second track, especially where the two tones really rub up against each other in an apparent struggle to occupy the same acoustic space. The final of the three cuts is calmer, conflicts resolved, the lines forming gentle arabesques as though carried down a slowly flowing stream. Aural shapes form in a very natural, very enjoyable manner.

It might be almost exactly what a listener familiar with the two musicians would expect from such a meeting, plus and minus, but overall I found it to be an endearing and subtly captivating work.

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