Joby Burgess
, Liverpool
15th March 2016
Review by
Beating His Own Drum And Much More Besides
When Joby Burgess appeared at Lancaster University recently he played
to a packed house and, with expectations running high, must have thought
that a lot of percussionist fans would await him at the Capstone tonight.
Unfortunately he came onto the stage to only a smattering of a crowd to
front an array of instruments of such diversity, size and shape that the
soundman confided in me it had taken him since midday to prepare.
As part of this solo Pioneers of Percussion concert, he opened with his
and Matthew Fairclough's jointly composed piece, Carbon Copy for Berimbau.
This Brazilian instrument looks simple to play but 'the gourd on a stick',
with it's one metal string, produced some weird tones and reverberations
dependent on it's orientation and closeness to the body, and how and where
the wooden stick (baqueta) was drawn across it.
Rebecca Dale's Can't Sleep was the first of three world premiere works
tonight. It showcased real-time vibraphone mallet dexterity over dubbed
loop reverb, all slide and bell trembling. Add intense wah-wah pedal and
a violin bow caressing the edges of the metal strips and you get the picture.
The second and third, immediately after the interval, by Nicole Lizee
and Linda Buckley were very different. The Filthy Fifteen was accompanied
by a video backdrop of staccato rapidly repeated sound bites of do-gooding
busybodies in the act of censoring, in Frank Zappa's voice over, popular
cultural icons, mores and behaviour. Burgess played along on keyboard.
Buckley's piece was introduced as 'Eno meets Bjork'. Exstasis invoked
Icelandic reverie inducing cycles of sound and feedback from the player
on more bow insertions through vibes.
Morton Feldman's the King Of Denmark was over six minutes of comatose
mote like nothingness; randomised playing of various timpani, vibes, gongs,
plastic bottle tops, symbols, chimes and a struck nail to finish. It required
great agility and improvisation on Burgess's part to perform this disjointed
aggregated menage of sounds and silences.
A long first half continued with Arvo Part's Fratres for aluminium harp
stroked by powdered rosin dried hands. This enabled the racks of varying
length tubes to be stroked tantric style to produce the ethereal lingering
parcels of sound, tintinnabuli, for which the composer is famous.
Finally a huge work for six groups of instruments( wood, skin and metal),
by Iannis Xenakis, Psappha (Sappho), the Greek poetess from Lesbos. Burgess
thinks this is the equivalent of his favourite Brahms Symphony, for his
own discipline.
Whatever, it's 13 minutes of brutally exacting participation for the
performer and listener alike. Mirroring her poems ,the work extends through
discrete parcels of noise to vast overarching mathematically structured
sounds from the first bongo blast in: only a kitchen sink was missing
in the hypnotic interplay of crashing clashes of tempo and timbre, building
to a massive drum roll and symbol finale.
There was still a complete set of unused instruments taking up a fifth
of the stage. Now in a final flourish the remarkably composed and tireless
Burgess came to Toro Takemitsu's 16 minute opus, The Seasons. He showed
incredible finesse, from hand striking a suspended steel wall to rattling
dice in a glass, then maracas and beating upside down kitchen pans before
a rumbling crescendo of gongs. everything was utilised including some
gentile 'Avon Lady' door chimes as he covered the stretched floor space
at the extremes of reach and touch to bring an incredible journey in space
and time to an end. He needed arms like legs by the J. Arthur Rank deafening
conclusion.
Quietly spoken and very much the accomplished article, his 'work' as
he calls it, has made him famous across the continent and beyond. This
was a rare opportunity to see such bravura playing of the old and the
new in the repertoire and was sadly ignored, even by short attention span
spectators who preferred their i-phones to live entertainment.
As for Burgess his future looks rosy as Liverpool again let the efforts
of the Capstone team down as they seek out artists at the cusp of artistic
enterprise.
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