Playing for Time

Mosquito/See Through

by The Necks
ReR Megacorp, London, UK, 2004
Audio CD-ROM, NECKS 4/5, $22.00
Distributor’s website: http://www.rermegacorp.com.

Reviewed by René van Peer
Bachlaan, The Netherlands

r.vanpeer@wxs.nl

Mosquito/See Through is the fourth title of the Australian trio, The Necks, on the ReR label. Characteristically, each CD is around an hour long, and consists of one continuous piece of music that seems to follow a clear and well-defined path. The two disks in this latest release are no exception to that——to a certain extent, I must add. The music, played on keyboards, percussion, and bass, proceeds at an unhurried pace and is laid down with care and concentration. Each piece moves along a more or less straight road. On Mosquito, the axis around which the music progresses, consists of apparent doodling on small wooden or bamboo percussion (it sounds like an angklung being manipulated at random) and in the high register of the piano, in alternation, but with some overlap; Lloyd Swanton's bass comes in after several minutes, playing only one tone twice at not absolutely regular intervals.

Later a keyboard enters with cycles of chord sequences, and drummer Tony Buck lightly but emphatically starts playing a cymbal, coming up and subsiding again. At this point one quarter of the piece has gone by. Still later a single high note, played in rapid reiteration, comes slowly into view, and regular beats on the bass drum join in. These are all transparent layers, but the combinations of elements that are foregrounded keep shifting. Sometimes one or more of the layers gets temporarily removed, bringing the process back on a slim, wispy trail. Then the music gathers momentum——the bass accelerates and starts adding the octave of its pedal tone, the chord sequences intensify, ever so slightly; the pats on the cymbal quicken and acquire more rustle, the spacing becomes denser. After some time this relative tension subsides again, and the trio is more or less where they started out. More or less, because a rhythmic scratching and rattling comes in, rounding the piece off.

What makes See Through different from the other pieces is the relatively long stretches of near silence that intersect it. It starts off with elements that are even more basic than those in Mosquito. Handbells rattle dimly, Tony Buck's cymbals hiss in waves, there's a hint of bowed bass in the background, Chris Abrahams weaves undulating runs on the piano. Then, after six minutes, the music falls away, to pick up again a minute later. This time the bass is bowed at a higher pitch, adding another a bit later. Buck plays two different cymbals. Abrahams adds another higher layer of notes on his piano. And again the music stops. For three minutes, a plane just audible in the distance. The music starts afresh, with four separate piano lines occurring together, one growling in the lowest register, while Swanton bows one protracted note. With the oncoming and subsiding piano phrases and Buck's work on the cymbals the music moves in waves of different length and scope, rippling and heaving at the same time. Then, all instruments fall back, except for the cymbals played in an even roll by Buck, who triggers another run with a bang on a gong. Now the bass has more freedom of movement. A phantom note floats through the music. Heavy accentuated rolls on the cymbals alternate with quick phrases on the piano, while another piano line wreathes and wends an irregular path. The mood, which has been detached and searching, almost turns into a kind of yearning. Then, after a last bout of silence, Buck applies his sticks to the snare drum, sided by the two cymbals. With long bowed notes in different registers Swanton rubs shoulders with the piano phrases adding a resonating ring to them, until only the decaying spectral glimmer of the open piano strings is left, and silence takes up center stage definitively. Another hour has passed, nothing much seems to have happened, but it is a captivating virtually nothing.

This music defies categorisation. The instrumentation would suggest jazz, but the sound of the trio does not, and neither does the structuring of the music. The sparse components that constitute each piece keep recurring throughout, and yet it is not repetitive or minimal music. Especially on this double set there are no clear time signatures. Compared with earlier albums Mosquito/See Through is stripped of all abundance, and yet a gratifying lushness of sound glows through its apparent austerity. The music floats on the currents and tides. It is detached, in a decidedly warm sense. It doesn't tick, but it is playing for time, lifting it up, dispersing it, setting it adrift. For an hour apiece. Such are the very rich hours of The Necks.