Radu Malfatti - Claude Lorrain 1 / Kid Ailack 5

B-boim

Radu Malfatti’s composed music over the past few years has explored a closely focussed, somewhat minimal vein. Many (though certainly not all) of the releases on his uncharacteristically prolific B-boim label have been similar in form and basic structure, varying only in colour, texture and other details. Each one is subtly different and yet distinctly familiar, and this feature to some degree forms one of the central themes of his ongoing work.

Having arrived at this point after years of developing as a musician and composer Malfatti has followed a similar trajectory to the likes of Rothko, Newman and to some degree even Feldman, all artists who in the later stages of their career produced large amounts of highly evolved, yet increasingly similar work.

Its rare that anyone ever looks back at those names and accuses them of stagnation however, as has often been the case with Malfatti’s recent work. Maybe only the sense of proportion that comes with time will allow his music to be addressed in a similar manner, and also without the relentless pining for the type of music that he made in the past and has since turned away from.

Kid Ailack 5 and Claude Lorrain 1 are two new additions to Mafatti’s home made CDR label catalogue, the thirteenth and fourteenth to appear in the last eighteen months. (I reviewed the first twelve here) Both of these recordings were made towards the end of 2007 and portray many of the characteristics familiar to much of Malfatti’s recent work. Long, dry single tones spaced apart by extended silences of varying lengths are common to both releases.

Recorded in Tokyo at the concert hall of the same name, Kid Ailack 5 (the numeral indicates that it is the fifth piece composed for that particular occasion) features Malfatti’s trombone alongside a quartet of other musicians. Fellow visiting Wandelweiser associates Antoine Beuger and Manfred Werder play baroque flute and mouth organ respectively, alongside the two Takus Unami (laptop) and Sugimoto (guitar).

The five musicians play extended notes for varied lengths of time together as a group. They begin playing as closely together as possible, presumably on a visual cue, and each note is abruptly cut short by all of the players simultaneously. What results then is a rich, layered tone made up of the contributions of all of the players that coalesces into one thick, syrupy hum and holds together consistently for most of the time. The occasional unintended flutter and falter from individual musicians are apparent here and there, infrequent yet enough to continually remind the listener of the human input into the music.

Between the notes the throb of the city can be heard creeping into the hall, and the sound of a remarkably quiet audience gives itself away every so often, but careful listening reveals something unusual about these elements. Here and there early in the recording the hum of the city seems to halt suddenly, leaving almost complete silence for fractions of a second. Its unlikely that these sounds are in fact coming from Unami’s laptop rather than the room itself, the more likely reason may be that the recording has been edited at these points, perhaps to remove uncomplimentary sounds. Certainly this adds a curious element to the recording though, made even more interesting by the quote from Francis Brown that Malfatti places on the sleeve; “What happens in the fraction of a second inbetween musical notes – is it still music?”

This piece plays with typical Malfatti ideas about memory and its role in music. Why after what seems like a semi regular pattern of tones placed within seemingly regular negative spaces do the lengths of the sounds and the gaps between them change in length? Or do they? The music starts to play games with the listener’s mind. The natural urge to find rhythms and patterns in the music is thwarted, and the individual events are too similar to be able to understand the differences between the length of each tone or silence.

On this recording the faint buzz of the background sound provides a far from blank canvas for the musicians to add to, resulting in a continually changing performance that will reward those with the patience to remain closely focussed for its fifty minute duration.

Claude Lorrain 1 is quite different to the Kid Ailack recording. To begin with it is put together on a computer by Malfatti using recordings of his muted trombone alongside computer generated sinetones. The two tones exist independently of each other, shifting over one another to leave less silence than is common in Malfatti compositions. There are subtle adjustments in pitch again that take place often after extended silences, and here as the composition has been built on a computer the negative spaces are cold digital silences. This leaves the listener with nothing to focus on but the relationship between the two notes and the spaces between them.

Claude Lorrain seems to feature a further element that I am not aware of having occurred in previous Malfatti works however. As the piece progresses the sounds we hear also seem to drop in volume, or at least give the impression of doing so. In his previous works whilst the pitch of tones vary the dynamic has always remained the same so it may be that even after seven listens through I am imagining this. There are possible hints in the sleeve quotation again though; “What happens to music when it breaks the sound barrier?”

So two more thoughtful releases from Malfatti that will delight those that enjoy trying to find answers to the questions he poses and bore those that require something else from music before they can start enjoying it. Personally I stand firmly in the former camp, and I look forward to the day he is perceived as one of avant garde music’s most original explorers.

B-boim