SPILL – Fluoresce


Magda Mayas: piano, clavinet, Tiger organ, harmonium, objects, preparations; Tony Buck: drums, cymbal, gong, bells, tabla, percussion

When piano and percussion cannot be exactly told apart during a listening stretch, that’s a good starting point. Fluoresce is chock full of music whose potential resides in the correct consolidation and subsequent erosion of scratched components, vibrational backlash, metallurgic shrillness and conflicting crepitation. And, above all, an indispensable dosage of danger: contrarily to certain profitless collations found even in far-famed settings, a piece such as “Coalesce” gains its elemental denotation from a sharp feel of insecurity, made stronger by the vociferous disorder of its textural anatomy opportunely mixed with crumbles of aborted melodies played by Mayas on the “regular” side of the instrument. Then a face-off between her electric organ and Buck’s misshapen patterns steers the whole towards a completely different path, culminating in a section where a (stoned) Return To Forever v Tony Williams matchup can be envisaged. This free-jazz-rock indication – spiced with veritable power chords – also defines the closing track “Sermon” as a singular digression from a general canon of flourishing rumbles and hail-like clatter.

No misinterpretations, no untold secrets. The couple throws out practically everything from their bag of dynamic colours, at the risk of a few brief moments of inconsistency. But the level of inner motility and lively impulses in the timbral interaction remains constantly high. Individual pitches wavering through apparent bedlam, gongs resonating with tremendous impact, piano strings getting violently plucked until a brutal living thing materializes from the inside. The sense of physical cleansing becomes concrete as one almost feels like baring the chest and expose it to the effulgent arrows systematically shot by the duo. Disparate types of reverberation – ever so persuasive – characterize the opening of “Galleon”, acute squeals acting as an effective counterbalance to the awesome growl that permeates the environment. Suddenly, a collaboration with Daniel Menche does not look so implausible. Rejection of ordinary harmony and urgency: a pairing which is hard to draw in words yet is felt as a wallop right into our guts. A drum roll seemingly announces the dropping of a guillotine’s blade; in spite of an evident aural inebriation, we didn’t get to see any heads rolling down.

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