“Is this the real life?”
“If you’re happy and you know it…”
“Is this just…”
“CLAP YOUR HANDS!”
“Carry on, it doesn’t really….”
“CLAP YOUR HANDS!”
Many well-known pop and folk tunes highlighted this all-improvised concert, sung and projected through on-stage speakers and interspersed with instrumental noise. In the chapel at the Good Shepherd Center in Seattle, WA on November 13, 2015, a series of jumbled semi-circles of chairs sat scattered near a table with donuts and club soda. Driftwood and amplifiers laid scattered across the stage creating an expectation of surreal sonic experience. FHTAGN, an all improvised ensemble, and noisepoetnobody, an all electric-hardware ensemble, joined together for this unique gathering. The environment projected an eccentric energy on the stage. The conglomeration of driftwood with metal fixed to them were strewn across the stage alongside an hourglass nestled between two candles. An individual lit the candles with dim stage lighting, allowing for an evanescent glow over the hourglass, which a musician flipped as the rest of the ensemble took the stage to no announcement. Somehow the ambiance was fitting.
Sporadic banging and unique timbres emerged as noisepoetnobody began creating a sonic cloud. The timbres of the found driftwood, sent through a computer with contact microphones, created an array of sounds: metallic, woodblock-ish, and cowbell-esque. A strike of metal, the sound of the driftwood, the noise of touching the tip of a ¼ inch jack, the pulsations, and timbres fading in and out created an intuitive structural design that seemed to grow and decay organically. These improvised clouds turned into beautiful pairings of found-sound timbres, drifting through intricate combinations of improvised rhythms that could be described as a psuedo-garbage-gamelan mixed with noise elements. The pacing of improvised rhythms and unique timbres made for energetic swells of energy that drove the improvisation forward.
The illuminated hourglass continued to count down.
Scraped, slapped, plucked, bowed, noise. A pseudo-guiro, maybe? The pulsations moved through intricate metric modulations that allowed for various rhythmic dissonances to create and release energy. The 5th performer laid down on stage, leaving the audience unclear if he fell asleep or if it was planned. The sound dissipated into a indecipherable fog, which slowly faded out.
The hourglass emptied. Intermission.
noisepoetnobody
“Is this the real life?”
“If you’re happy and you know it…”
“Is this just…”
“CLAP YOUR HANDS!”
“Carry on, it doesn’t really….”
“CLAP YOUR HANDS!”
A man wearing a bolo tie soulfully sang, “Oh baby, you make me feel so good!” Supposedly, FHTAGN had taken the stage, or more so, surrounded the stage. Conductor Blake DeGraw began the improvisation with at least 15 others surrounding the audience, consisting of saxophones, electric guitars, accordions, a piccolo trumpet, at least one tin whistle, and many more instrumentalists and singers. Guitarist Patrick Gundran created a layer of noise that overtook the improvisation with a level of passion and intent that blanketed and overcame the crowd.
“ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST.”
The onstage speakers spewed elements of well-known music that were hardly audible over the cacophony surrounding the audience. The extreme noise created by the entirety of the ensemble, playing as loudly as they could, was overwhelming. Often, the sound suddenly died off, allowing for an individual whistling, an audience member laughing, or what was possibly Metallica playing through the speakers. The combined sound of the ensemble could be described as if Charles Ives had access to white noise, electronic amplification, extreme distortion, and possible psychedelic mind-altering substances.
“I think I am happy and I know it? Maybe?” I thought.
An enormous swell of noise led to a sudden cutoff. Silence. DeGraw turned around to engage the audience, “That is what every theme song to TV show’s in the 80’s sounded like.” I can’t tell if this is accurate or not, nor am I completely sure what happened amongst the walls of sound, but I strangely enjoyed it and was equally relieved it was over. “This type of improv, I love it. You never know what is going to happen,” Gundran said after the concert. It was obvious the musicians weren’t sure what would come next, but every sound created was done so with the utmost intent and passion. When listening to such noise, such chaos, somehow this passion cut through and allowed for an immensely visceral experience that is difficult to duplicate.
