CD – true blanking

Kjell Bjørgeengen, Keith Rowe and John Tilbury are three central figures in contemporary experimental music, each with a trajectory that has helped redefine adjacent fields. Bjørgeengen, a Norwegian visual artist, has revolutionised the dialogue between sound and image with his minimalist installations and his conceptual approach to electronic frequencies. Rowe, a pioneer of the prepared guitar and founder of the group AMM, has redefined what it means to play an instrument for over half a century, influencing generations of improvisers. Tilbury, a British pianist, is recognised as a reference interpreter of the works of Morton Feldman and Cornelius Cardew. His work is characterised by rigorous formal control, an acute sensitivity to sonic detail and an ability to work with silence as a structural element. Together, these three giants of the avant-garde create a sonic language that transcends traditional musical conventions. In this work, the trio focus on a language made of minimal gestures: brief sonic outcrops, subtle abrasions of texture and the delicate transitory nature of the piano. It is a work that unfolds with the graduality of an organism that takes shape almost imperceptibly, where the electronic backdrops act as a vibrant terrain from which isolated notes emerge, destined to vanish the very moment they manifest themselves. It is certainly not an album that indulges conventional expectations: rather, it invites us to follow another logic, made of nuanced presences and silences full of intention. There are three compositions presented: an extended one, ‘Flicker, Scratch & Ivory’, which with its almost 49 minutes gives the title to the release, and two shorter ones, essentially two extracts, of 4:46 and 6:20 minutes respectively. The main track is the fulcrum of the entire work: an unhurried flow, in which time seems to expand to the point of losing defined contours. The distinction between gesture and listening becomes thinner; the sound insinuates itself like an underground current, at times imperceptible, which requires the listener to concentrate without expectations. Even in the two excerpts, the interaction between Rowe and Tilbury is subtle but pregnant – the treated guitar emerges as a metallic breath or a distant vibration, while the piano draws melodic hints that dissolve before settling into a recognizable form. Bjørgeengen’s electronic interventions never imposes themselves but pulsate like a connective tissue that binds the components in a fragile and elusive plot. The listening experience does not offer an immediate hold: it requires time and a certain disposition to let oneself be enveloped by a sound that does not aim to impress but to insinuate itself slowly, almost at a subliminal level.

 

John Tilbury, Keith Rowe, Kjell Bjørgeengen – Flicker, Scratch & Ivory