Before briefly discussing Boundaries, let me invite you to take a look at this informative article on Tavishi (Sarmistha Talukdar from Richmond, Virginia).
One of the things I particularly hate is people’s grandiloquence about matters they just don’t know. Perhaps the most crowded places in that regard are the Churches Of Ultimate Cognition where sound is inevitably associated to aspects of the human path which – according to the trademark sapient-but-ignorant specimen – comprise everything between cosmic connection and the hypothetical harmonic laws of the universe.
In such contexts, those “harmonies” are usually effective only if specific tones, or combinations thereof, are graspable by the under-average ear of self-aggrandizing simpletons in search of something they may clutch at (and babble on) at the first try, without further “deepen-the-issue” annoyances.
Not to mention the theoretically healing characteristics of selected frequencies, superficially quoted without considering that every person responds to them in often antithetical ways. We are individuals; we quiver, love and fear differently from each other. What cures someone can negatively affect someone else. This is not clear to the zealots of mantric populism yet.
Thus, there’s no universal communion after all. But there are means to work together, starting from the investigation of reactions. Tavishi is interested in this type of research. As a cancer biologist living and working in a different land from that where she was born, there’s no doubt about Talukdar’s capacity of managing the consequences of events that – in a way or another – impact both the physical and psychological features of a being. Her complex music, originating from a combination of scientific experimentation and juxtaposition of electro-acoustic sources, is unsettling and profound beyond the comforts of a pacifying facade.
And, for good measure, it cannot be compared to anything I’ve heard of late. Maybe it could be described as a lucid nightmare occurring in a room where a dozen TV sets are broadcasting a mix of harsh realities from the quotidian, the whole filtered through unclean colored lenses. On the other hand, “The Forgotten Ones” recalls the early stages of computer music’s history, whereas large chunks of “Cancer” sound as (a-hem) cosmically vast as they can be.
This woman does not entertain the idea of nourishing an audience with obviousness. This is the highest value transpiring from her efforts. Time and focus are required to understand the hours of studio tampering that were put in, and to mentally systematize the irregular spurts animating the assemblages.
Still, there are elements classifiable as familiar. They range from simple sequences of pitches and digitized rhythms to disquieting electronic auras characterized by singular reverberations. The utilization of external voices – speaking, singing or screaming in bloodcurdling agony, like in “Aage Jodi Jantam Re Bondhu” – furnishes the record with additional layers of obscure significance, leaving us puzzled and – why not – charged with tension.
It’s that tension that should act as the propeller of an active mind. Make that “fighting” mind, in this day and age.
The rest is for you to discover. We’re always thankful when we get exposed to something that, in the end, elicits a relieved “finally!” in our head. And we’re all the more happy to share it, rather than giving extra space to media-elected names whose tired cliches should not even be covered.
Now, let’s wait for Tavishi’s next step with confidence.