The core of Marco Ferrazza’s electroacoustic exploration lies in the involvement with what he calls “timbral proximities” in an environment where sonic symptoms may be vaguely diagnosable, or not at all. Curvature – following the excellent Inextricable (Luscinia Discos, 2015) – confirms at least two theories. First, Ferrazza is endowed with a sensible command of the musical gesture, whichever the method chosen; second, his pieces are felt as living organisms while mostly remaining on the “regulated” region of the spectrum.
The fact that the deus ex machina is not partial to inundating us with information – neither about the tracks, nor himself – is a major plus in this scribbler’s book. In that way, the audience is not overly influenced or oriented. All is required is recognizing a given system of rules, discerning the fundamental refractions and how they work inside through the ear’s cognizance, and observe the results. Of the composers active in this field, Ferrazza appears as one who privileges the natural flow of the acoustic matter as opposed to a labored extraordinariness that could induce aural weariness in the ill-prepared. Absurdly – but not too much – this profound music can exist “in or around” the listening subject; located far away from any hypothesis of “ambient” (ugh), its emissions are absorbed even when the mind is not entirely set in analytical mode. Rather than having to dissect capsules and wreck our brains on “connections”, we take account of the proportionality between large-scale ambiances and minute details. This includes the rare instances characterized by a theoretical sense of danger, always leaving a door open for a final return to quietude.
Give this conceiver of magnetic and never clumsy soundscapes a chance to become a new component in your auditory macrocosm. We offer a guarantee against disappointment.