On October 30th, Akousma presented their second night of acousmatic and electroacoustic music. Daphne Oram’s piece opened the first block.
An analog hum takes over; small sounds spin around us like friendly aliens. It is part singing bowl, part synthetic bell, all old-school grainy reverb. It’s a warm, enveloping piece that inhabits us like hope itself. Oram plays with distance, letting some whirls hover farther away. This use of subtlety keeps our attention on the details, so even as the piece begins to grow, we can still hear the resonance of the small sounds. The central part of the piece brings a countercurrent of darkness, train-like rhythms that swell and fade, giving way to the return of the hopeful soundtrack.
The next piece, by Joseph Sannicandro, strikes us as quite particular; it kicks us from Oram’s mystical world to the bank of a very real river. We hear water, rustling, and people. The sound remains close to us throughout, the river traveling from left to right while the white noise stays constant. The piece, “al-rambla / Las Ramblas,” stays firmly in the realm of water. At first, it simply rocked me thoughtlessly, but its constant recurrence made me acutely aware of its subtle variations. There seemed to be no repeated water sound; each held its own pattern and tone. This made every one of them feel special, as if Sannicandro were crouched by a river or creek, listening closely to its voice. In the second half of the piece, one moment struck me as an incarnation of claustrophobia, when the white noise was suddenly pulled away, the environment shifted indoors.
The last piece, “Chôra (creation)” by Rehab Hazgui, begins with vitality. Two resounding explosions hit us, followed by a haka taken straight from the New Zealand House of Commons, announcing resistance, change, or destruction. The people’s voices strike us clearly, making us sit up with attention. Next, drumming takes over, floating above our heads. It feels as if these drummers have ascended past this plane, beyond here and now. On our level, a synthesizer lulls us. While this is lovely, it lacks the same intense urgency that made the opening so striking. It seems to simply wind down and rest there. This Akousma program was incredibly diverse, a rare opportunity to hear works that go beyond what is usually expected in such settings.
Photo of Joseph Sannicandro from Akousma Instagram page
