In the fifth concert in the concert series, I had planned to collaborate with the sound engineer Stig Gunnar Ringen. The focus for this concert was to investigate an amplified, orchestral version of the haptic setup, exhibiting the three drums in amplified sound production through the sound system in Lindemansalen at the Academy of Music in Oslo. I have been working with Stig Gunnar over the years on many projects, and he has been the regular sound technician for the bands Huntsville and Dans les arbres. Stig Gunnar was an obvious choice when I recorded the material for Musica liquida in the Emanuel Vigeland Mausoleum and Strumento di etimo incerto in the anechoic chamber. Stig Gunnar’s expertise and knowledge about my work and setup made him ideal for this concert, and I was looking forward to collaborating with him once more. However, Stig Gunnar fell down with Covid the same day of the concert, so the sound technician Joar Storrødvann stepped in at the last minute. 

Transcription of the concert introduction can be found here.

The concert

The beatings of the low frequencies in the gran cassa starts to fill the room. The sound is coming from everywhere. But I am in the sweet spot—my head is just above the membrane where the physicality of the sound waves is pushing the eardrum. It is a sonic massage. I let the pulsations in the Gran Cassa continue by themselves while finding resonating frequencies and melodies in the kettledrum, pressing a metal ring on the skin, which adding an extra distortion to the sound. The hesitating hand is at work again, and the slight movement of the metal ring triggers a significant change in timbre, and I realize I have to be careful. I don’t have full control over this effect, but I am starting to develop an internal instinct, a tacit knowledge of how to operate on the boarder of where I lose the control of the vibration. I enjoy this search for timbres in the moment, as long as I find what I am looking for. The transducer is at work today. The more complex the sound material, the more work the transducer has to do in transforming the electric signal to vibration, thus the transducer heat up, and after a while it deteriorates. I add objects to the pulsation in the Gran Cassa. I am layering sound, musicking with the amplified sound in the space - adding another layer in the snare drum. The result is getting dense, and I am wondering if I am really capable of balancing these layers. Can I hear all the layers and where they are coming from? At this volume, the three drums influence each other. They resonate within each other, and that makes it hard to differentiate the source, even if I am right there, in the center of the orchestrated lushness of sound. 

In previous concerts, I found myself in situations where I was losing contact with the musical content, simply because I was trying to find a way out of the musical terrain. A drop in energy and concentration arise—a gap, where I don't intend to make any sound—yet a layer is still sounding, occupying a sonic space. This reappearance of unintentional gaps in the music is bothering me. I can see myself looking for objects, obviously thinking about doing something to change the course of things, but I’m taking too long, and the music loses its natural flow. I realize that this tendency is even more evident in this concert, as the result is becoming too dense. My solution to the same problem in the Mausoleum recording was to record the layers separately. I don’t have the option in a live performance; thus, I need to be more efficient in the transition phases – learn how to shift smoothly between musical passages.

I have the same setup as in the recording of Musica liquida, and the scope of the overall material is of similar character to the pieces Mercurio and Increspature su un lago. However, the concert builds a bridge to the piece Cicchitaredu on Strumento di etimo incerto and to the collaboration with Kim Myhr and Eivind Lønning. Hear examples here:

In all three examples, I am working with the same rhythmic pattern programmed in Patterning. I adapt the same building blocks in several projects, showing again the adaptable quality of developed motifs and building blocks, and how they enter and color all my musical collaborations. They don’t belong to a fixed, specific work. Solo material is ensemble material and vice versa.

In the third part of the concert starting at 31.05, the diffraction of sound waves is ignited. I am playing slow glissandi using sine waves to obtain the diffractive effect and dissonant frequencies. I notice that I look for this sounding terrain. It is demanding to listen to, harsh but beautiful at the same time. I observe the increasing flux of frequencies. It seems to trigger a gradual change in the timbral spectrum, without my interference. An interplay with the membrane’s changing spectrum has begun. I ask myself: Is the membrane doing this all by itself? It becomes clear to me that I am playing with the drum. It gives me a new perspective of a what a solo performance can be.