On the second volume of this collection of Utrechtian composer
Ton Brunyél's works, we are immediately rewarded with the signature piece for both sets. The composition that is "Looking Ears" reveals
Brunyél as a magician of sound. Scored for bass clarinet, piano, and soundtracks, the work is designed to be a series of confusing events that suggest things in our memory we cannot quite name. The taped sounds do a fair job of this in and of themselves, but as the piano and clarinet enter the picture in differing intervals and settings from jazz to free improvisation to conscientiously scored modes, they add to the difficulty in identifying (inside our brains) by relating to these additionally imposed instruments in the way we approach a composition of this type; hence we can never really get to what the taped sounds remind us of at all. This may sound like art damage, but it's far from it (leave that to "composers" like Konrad Boehmer). In essence, Brunyél's work really involves what amounts to musical physics. Our brain goes through a mysterious process when it identifies anything as being familiar, and that process of naming is what's made askew here by musical means: this is truly a brilliant and engaging work. Also here is "From The Tripod;" a remarkable work for female choir and sound tracks. Its dynamic range is extreme on both ends: it literally goes from a whisper to an hysterical scream. There are vocal drums and cymbals that clamor in classical hexameters, and are only interrupted by a chant of the word "hi," which creates a pulsing rhythm. Later messages and aphorisms are wound into the mix by the ever-elevating level of volume and dramatic pitch in the choir. Here, a mythical creature called the Pythoness evokes every change in the score, and they are considerable changes which create a surreal morass of material for political, social, and spiritual commentary by a choir who is moved dynamically by the taped sounds informing their direction. This piece is scary as hell. Riot grrrl indeed! Also important are
Brunyél's "Translucent II" for string orchestra and soundtracks, which is conducted. Easily the stormiest piece he has ever composed,
Brunyél relied heavily on
Shostakovich and Webern for the string aspect, the color range comes from
Shostakovich and the serial range from Webern, and perhaps even Berg. Sonically, both
Brian Eno and
Gavin Bryars inform him in his structure of ambience and the manner in which it cascades onto the strings. Finally, "Listening Landscape (For Loudspeakers)" leaves us with what we've been longing for -- a work for soundtracks only. This work, which has been featured in ballets and musical theater throughout Europe, gives a new definition to the word "composer."
Brunyél's use of pitch, dynamic, and texture certainly make him more of an architect with a structuralist view than an experimental one, but this cannot be ruled out either, because one can hear the "chance elements" being ladled into the mix's formal parameters -- and they are very formal (so much so they could almost have been assigned time signatures). If the loudspeakers could speak, what would they say? This is the question
Brunyél seems to be asking, and at the same time, he seems to be offering what might be a glimpse of the answer:
Looking Ears, Vol. 2 is so fine a collection it makes one wish for a third volume. Whether or not everything
Brunyél has composed is as stunning as this would take some research to discover. But the one thing that can be said with more than a small degree of accuracy is that everything the man has composed should at least be heard. ~ Thom Jurek