Points of Contact: MANTIS Fall Festival 2010

The bian­nual MANTIS Fes­ti­val at the Uni­ver­sity of Man­ches­ter pre­sents fixed media works and works with live elec­tron­ics, per­form­ing these over a large sound dif­fu­sion sys­tem that com­prises around 40 loud­speak­ers. The con­certs over the Hal­loween week­end show­cased the work of stu­dents at the uni­ver­sity, that of in­vited guest com­posers and in­cluded the first col­lab­o­ra­tion be­tween MANTIS and the uni­ver­sity’s newly ap­pointed Con­tem­po­rary En­sem­ble in Res­i­dence Psap­pha.

MANTIS sound diffusion system

As often at these fes­ti­vals, it was stu­dent works that stood out. The dron­ing, care­lessly as­sem­bled am­bi­ence of Do­minique Bas­sal’s fes­ti­val-open­ing por­trait con­cert on Fri­day night was quickly over­shad­owed by the work of stu­dents at the NO­VARS Re­search Cen­tre that dis­played var­ied but con­sis­tently crafted ap­proaches. It is not often that peo­ple laugh at the wit of elec­troa­coustic music, but Donal Sars­field’s Of Noise Alone achieves this with a lit­tle gen­tle sub­ver­sion. The work takes the sound of ap­plause and clap­ping as its source ma­te­r­ial and, as the au­di­ence put their hands to­gether, the piece seemed to reignite acousti­cally, briefly il­lu­mi­nat­ing some­thing faintly ridicu­lous about the rit­ual of per­for­mance and ap­plause.

Irma Catalina Álvarez’s Wind­sl­ley Street achieves a re­mark­able steadi­ness and long-breathed form as nu­mer­ous, seem­ingly au­tonomous lit­tle mech­a­nisms each fol­low their own grad­ual de­vel­op­ment. In stark con­trast to the ten­dency for a ‘whizz bang’, causal lan­guage, this work’s qui­etude and rep­e­ti­tion man­ages to never seem rep­e­ti­tious while never break­ing from a sense of steady pro­gres­sion.

The lat­est and longest work by Sam Salem, Dead Poets, fur­ther ex­plores his in­ter­est in using a spe­cific city or place as the acoustic ‘sub­ject’ of a work with a 20-minute, 4-part re­flec­tion on New York. Per­haps Mor­ton Feld­man’s title ‘The viola in my life’ — much loved by Hel­mut Lachen­mann — should be adapted to this kind of work. Far from being a por­trait or doc­u­men­tary of New York this work is per­haps ‘New York in my life’. Again wit was in ev­i­dence as the story of a tramp un­folds to end with his sorry pro­tag­o­nist being told to ‘Go fuck your­self’. Some re­mark­able, omi­nous sounds taken of the wind howl­ing through the shut­tered and derelict fair­ground rides of Coney Is­land com­ple­mented more fa­mil­iar sounds like sub­way trains in what seemed an al­to­gether darker work than its ex­cel­lent pre­de­ces­sor Pub­lic Bod­ies.

As well as other stu­dent works by Oliver Car­man, Mark Pilk­ing­ton, Josh Kopeček and Richard Scott, we were given the chance to hear El Es­pejo de Ali­cia by 47-year-old Chilean com­poser Fed­erico Schu­macher. Sub­ject of a — by all ac­counts ex­cel­lent — por­trait con­cert at this year’s Fes­ti­val Acous­ma­tique In­ter­na­tional in Brus­sels, Schu­macher is not some­one I had come across be­fore, but this work was crisp, del­i­cate and ten­der, ex­hibit­ing both the tech­ni­cal pre­ci­sion we’ve come to ex­pect of this music and — more un­usu­ally — an ear for af­fect­ing and mu­si­cal ideas. A lot of his music, in­clud­ing El Es­pejo de Ali­cia, is avail­able for free as mp3s here. I’d rec­om­mend a lis­ten.

Live Wires: Psap­pha & Mad­Lab

Psappha Logo

The Sun­day gave us a chance to hear MANTIS’s large rig of loud­speak­ers pit­ted against the live in­stru­ments of Psap­pha’s Tim Williams and Richard Casey in three works for per­cus­sion and piano with elec­tron­ics. Manuella Black­burn’s Cajon and Joao Pedro Oliveira’s Mael­strom are both ac­com­plished works — the for­mer for the epony­mous cajon and the lat­ter for cim­balom — but they were hugely (and per­haps un­sur­pris­ingly) over­shad­owed by Stock­hausen’s Kon­takte. I heard Kon­takte per­formed by Nico­las Hodges and Colin Cur­rie at the Proms in 2008 and found my­self rather ir­ri­tated by it — un­like my re­ac­tion to Grup­pen, which was ex­hil­a­rat­ing — but on Sun­day the work’s in­cred­i­ble, in­ef­fa­ble logic and scope re­ally drove home how short-sighted or sim­plis­tic much music for in­stru­ments and elec­tron­ics is. There is at no point a straight­for­ward con­cept of in­ter­ac­tion to grasp hold of. Rather, the three parts — piano, per­cus­sion and elec­tron­ics — are al­lowed to cir­cle each other, find­ing points of con­tact and drift­ing apart in a shower of sounds. This is no sound­world piece, it em­braces count­less sounds — with the pi­anist equipped with a per­cus­sion set-up al­most as large as that of the per­cus­sion­ist — and all the sounds co­ex­ist un­seg­re­gated. It is hard to spec­ify how this work holds to­gether. There is some­thing still very con­tem­po­rary about the con­struc­tion of meta-in­stru­ments out of col­lec­tions of per­cus­sion so that a sin­gle ges­ture can begin on a guero and end in wind chimes, giv­ing those sounds an or­ganic, phys­i­cal logic that some­how trans­mits to the acoustic. Casey and Williams’s per­for­mance was grip­ping to the last and it was ex­cit­ing to hear so clearly how im­por­tant this music is.

MadLab logo

Sun­day evening brought the usual re­laxed fi­nale to the fes­ti­val, this time re­lo­cated from Nexus Art Café to Man­ches­ter Dig­i­tal Lab­o­ra­tory (Mad­Lab). After a se­ries of fixed media and au­dio­vi­sual works, we moved onto live per­for­mances with the cir­cuit-bend­ing of Ro­drigo Con­stanzo and Mauri­cio Pauly, fol­lowed by the synth and video ef­forts of Mark Pilk­ing­ton and Thomas Bjelke­born. Re­flect­ing Mad­Lab’s remit of pro­mot­ing com­mu­nity dis­cus­sion and shar­ing tech­ni­cal ex­per­tise, the evening ended with a pre­view screen­ing of a rough cut of Ri­cardo Cli­ment’s doc­u­men­tary film VIP Lounges Are For ALL about S.​LOW Pro­jekt, which he ran in Berlin this sum­mer and I wrote about here. A si­mul­ta­ne­ously hu­mor­ous and se­ri­ous look at the para­dox of work­ing in both aca­d­e­mic ‘cen­tres of ex­cel­lence’ and ‘low’ are­nas in Berlin’s can-do arts scene, the film poses ques­tions about the qual­ity of art­work and what con­sti­tutes value as well as giv­ing an in­sight as to how this some­what ad hoc, im­pro­vised fes­ti­val that in­volved around 40 dif­fer­ent artists ran. Here’s an ex­cerpt to fin­ish off with:

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