RAIC: Häxan
[TLM024 - Cinema Paradiso Vol. I]
|
The first volume in a series of live, improvisational & spontaneous scores to silent and obscure movies by the ever morphing RAIC (aka the Richmond Avant Improv Collective), who settled on an 8 piece ensemble for this recording...
..................................................... Limited Edition of 300 12" black vinyl LPs +/or High-Quality Download 48KHz/24-bit in lossless formats - FLAC recommended. 4 tracks, 39'14". ..................................................... All tracks recorded spontaneously live along with the movie, with no overdubs on the first take, on March 3, 2018 at Etching Tin Studios. Mixed and mastered by Richard Schellenberg. Produced by Samuel Goff. Samuel Goff - Drums, Percussion, Vocals, Keyboards, Electronics Abdul Hakim Bilal - Guitar Erik Schroeder - Alto Saxophone, Percussion, Keyboards, Sampler, Theremin, Electronics, Flute, Woodwinds Zoe Olivia Kinney - Cello, Vocals Laura Marina - Vocals, Keyboards, Electronics Jimmy Ghaphery - Sopranino Saxophone, Flute, Alto Saxophone John Priestley - Bass Cary Ralston - Vibes, Percussion Design by moody alien. Images from Benjamin Christensen’s film “Häxan” (1922). ..................................................... Released December 13, 2019. ℗ & © Thirsty Leaves Music ..................................................... |
REVIEWS.
"[...] The size of the ensemble might suggest a nonstop freeflow blowout but more often than not the players engage in hushed, simmering interplay that only boils over when the occasion - as dictated by the onscreen action - calls for it. For the most part this is music that seethes with unholy passion and keeps the listener suspended in a state of anticipation.
[...] it's an absorbing listen and strikes me as the collective's finest release to date. [...]"
Joseph Stannard for The Wire (Issue 432, Feb. 2020, p.51)
. . .
"[...] Häxan (Cinema Paradiso Vol. I) is the Richmond Avant Improv Collective’s interpretation in sound of this soundless film. The Collective, ordinarily a septet but often adding players as needed, was an octet for the occasion. Playing live in the studio, the group improvised as the film ran. The titles of the four tracks--Hell, Confession, Witch Trials and Deeds of the Devil—give some idea of the flavor of the music. The sounds are predominantly dark—a looming overcast of electronics, minor-key melodies on the cello, keening sounds from the saxophone, eerily oscillating voices and distorted electric guitar chords—and evocative. One need not see the film to “see” the film, when listening."
Daniel Barbiero for Avant Music News
. . .
"[...] As you might imagine (and hope) with music to hunt witches to, it’s eerie, expansive (and expanding), a sense of horizon and distance closing in. There’s a clear three-dimensional sound image (and something’s rumbling and tinkling just over there, approaching inexorably…) The cello and reeds in Hell are appropriately triste-ful and quietly desperate. The intermittent heartbeat in Confession leads to an intricate noise-in-a-bottle improvised torture of percussion details, guitar string finger-noise, saxophone punctuation and electronic bubbling. The undulating sense of horror throughout (and especially in Deeds of the Devil) is pure and subtle, deceptively smooth at times with moments of sharp menace emerging with rumbling, distant tones.
[...] Shot through with unpredictability and constant, seamless change, it nevertheless manages to conjure a sense of structure and purpose from the first note… And yet, when improvised, any structure can only be nascent, implicit in the connection between the musicians. Without prepared or written music, any sense of structure or order comes from a perception of the participants’ communication and this is clearly audible but non-verbal high-level telepathy. Looking forward to the next in the series…"
Dave Foxall for a Jazz Noise
. . .
"[...] It’s a moody work saturated in effects and strings, and peculiar other-worldly sounds that come from the improvisational fusion of players. I’d imagine they must operate like a loose avant jazz outfit, but the results are more like moving mountains through a spiritual process that de/retains wavy noises and organic matter. [...] Though the so-called devil has sometimes gotten my tongue, I will try and fight to stay upright as this is quite the meditation on nuanced, changing atmospheres. [...]"
TJ Norris for Toneshift
. . .
"[...] Although we cannot judge on the communication of the music with the Danish director's images (because we can't watch them synchronized), it nevertheless seems that the goal is achieved - that is, RAIC's music can carry you away into the vortex of this surreal-demonic cinematic legend. Since the point in this case is not to try and overpower the film, with sounds that have more strength than it does, but rather to attempt through suggestive and slow-burning interventions, through the use of drones and low volume electronics together with the acoustic instruments' screeches & grunts to create an under-layer of some kind, on which the specific ecstatic images may then imperiously sit upon. RAIC, from what we can hear on Häxan (Cinema Paradiso Vol. I), seem to perceive clearly what exactly they have undertaken. [...]"
Phontas Troussas for Diskoryxeion/Vinylmine (in greek)
. . .
"[...] The introductory "Confession" swells with a loose stream in which it chokes, rumbles, rages, hums, scrubs, beats, etc. Brutal sounds overlap, occasionally the theremin erupts, strings ignite, percussion and drums explode, freejazz saxophones, wild voice; just a murderous cocktail free and noise. Really a cut! The song "Witch Trails" is appropriately sinister, saturated with ambient with acoustic cello colors and painful voices. Then comes tenderness, caress in the form of a woman's voice and a flute. But ruthless guitar chords are imminent. And then it rolls out in full horror. Human roar, rage of guitar noise. In the end, the ambient surface, interwoven with the pleading, desperate voice of a tortured woman, prevails. "Deeds Of the Devil" (15:38) is at first surprisingly filled with a soft sound of delicious colors, a rich ambient with a saxophone part. Gradually, however, everything begins to get dirty, a pleading female voice indicates the expectation of evil. And it will come unstoppably. Double bass double bass, wounds, cries, the devil's voice; great is the horror rendered. And then only ruin…"
Jan Hocek for JazzPort.cz (in czech)
. . .
"[...] The size of the ensemble might suggest a nonstop freeflow blowout but more often than not the players engage in hushed, simmering interplay that only boils over when the occasion - as dictated by the onscreen action - calls for it. For the most part this is music that seethes with unholy passion and keeps the listener suspended in a state of anticipation.
[...] it's an absorbing listen and strikes me as the collective's finest release to date. [...]"
Joseph Stannard for The Wire (Issue 432, Feb. 2020, p.51)
. . .
"[...] Häxan (Cinema Paradiso Vol. I) is the Richmond Avant Improv Collective’s interpretation in sound of this soundless film. The Collective, ordinarily a septet but often adding players as needed, was an octet for the occasion. Playing live in the studio, the group improvised as the film ran. The titles of the four tracks--Hell, Confession, Witch Trials and Deeds of the Devil—give some idea of the flavor of the music. The sounds are predominantly dark—a looming overcast of electronics, minor-key melodies on the cello, keening sounds from the saxophone, eerily oscillating voices and distorted electric guitar chords—and evocative. One need not see the film to “see” the film, when listening."
Daniel Barbiero for Avant Music News
. . .
"[...] As you might imagine (and hope) with music to hunt witches to, it’s eerie, expansive (and expanding), a sense of horizon and distance closing in. There’s a clear three-dimensional sound image (and something’s rumbling and tinkling just over there, approaching inexorably…) The cello and reeds in Hell are appropriately triste-ful and quietly desperate. The intermittent heartbeat in Confession leads to an intricate noise-in-a-bottle improvised torture of percussion details, guitar string finger-noise, saxophone punctuation and electronic bubbling. The undulating sense of horror throughout (and especially in Deeds of the Devil) is pure and subtle, deceptively smooth at times with moments of sharp menace emerging with rumbling, distant tones.
[...] Shot through with unpredictability and constant, seamless change, it nevertheless manages to conjure a sense of structure and purpose from the first note… And yet, when improvised, any structure can only be nascent, implicit in the connection between the musicians. Without prepared or written music, any sense of structure or order comes from a perception of the participants’ communication and this is clearly audible but non-verbal high-level telepathy. Looking forward to the next in the series…"
Dave Foxall for a Jazz Noise
. . .
"[...] It’s a moody work saturated in effects and strings, and peculiar other-worldly sounds that come from the improvisational fusion of players. I’d imagine they must operate like a loose avant jazz outfit, but the results are more like moving mountains through a spiritual process that de/retains wavy noises and organic matter. [...] Though the so-called devil has sometimes gotten my tongue, I will try and fight to stay upright as this is quite the meditation on nuanced, changing atmospheres. [...]"
TJ Norris for Toneshift
. . .
"[...] Although we cannot judge on the communication of the music with the Danish director's images (because we can't watch them synchronized), it nevertheless seems that the goal is achieved - that is, RAIC's music can carry you away into the vortex of this surreal-demonic cinematic legend. Since the point in this case is not to try and overpower the film, with sounds that have more strength than it does, but rather to attempt through suggestive and slow-burning interventions, through the use of drones and low volume electronics together with the acoustic instruments' screeches & grunts to create an under-layer of some kind, on which the specific ecstatic images may then imperiously sit upon. RAIC, from what we can hear on Häxan (Cinema Paradiso Vol. I), seem to perceive clearly what exactly they have undertaken. [...]"
Phontas Troussas for Diskoryxeion/Vinylmine (in greek)
. . .
"[...] The introductory "Confession" swells with a loose stream in which it chokes, rumbles, rages, hums, scrubs, beats, etc. Brutal sounds overlap, occasionally the theremin erupts, strings ignite, percussion and drums explode, freejazz saxophones, wild voice; just a murderous cocktail free and noise. Really a cut! The song "Witch Trails" is appropriately sinister, saturated with ambient with acoustic cello colors and painful voices. Then comes tenderness, caress in the form of a woman's voice and a flute. But ruthless guitar chords are imminent. And then it rolls out in full horror. Human roar, rage of guitar noise. In the end, the ambient surface, interwoven with the pleading, desperate voice of a tortured woman, prevails. "Deeds Of the Devil" (15:38) is at first surprisingly filled with a soft sound of delicious colors, a rich ambient with a saxophone part. Gradually, however, everything begins to get dirty, a pleading female voice indicates the expectation of evil. And it will come unstoppably. Double bass double bass, wounds, cries, the devil's voice; great is the horror rendered. And then only ruin…"
Jan Hocek for JazzPort.cz (in czech)
. . .