Utrecht composer
Ton Bruynèl has long been celebrated in the Netherlands in particular and, more recently, throughout the rest of Europe for his work combining acoustic and electric composition and sound environments.
Bruynèl's style is one that struggles -- and succeeds -- to keep a balance between these two poles and blend them together as organically and as seamlessly as possible.
Looking Ears is a two-volume retrospective of his work from the 1960s through the late '80s. On this first volume, we hear much of
Bruynèl's soundtrack work, beginning with the flute piece "Serene," which juxtaposes an alto flute against an electronic backdrop and a tape loop of the piece's theme, which the flutist plays over to create yet another dimension. The work is a soundtrack accompanied by soundtracks: this is supposed to emulate the flight and habitat of the owl. Whether it does this is anybody's guess, but musically it's wonderful. "Soft Song" is another work for solo instrument and soundtracks; this time the soloist plays the oboe. Along with a taped microtonal backdrop provided by that instrument, and unidentified sounds -- perhaps a gamelan orchestra or other percussion-like instruments -- the oboe creates a short melody of chromatic elements inseparable from the instrument's three registers. It hovers in the middle and reaches for the top only when the atmospherics and microtones reach a dynamic zenith. Much of
Bruynèl's work is atmospheric in nature, but this does not mean that he is a mere formalist in this area. Quite the opposite, in fact, as evidenced by the deep improvisation for bass clarinet in "Save the Whale," which is full of haunted arpeggios and bubbling backdrops forming textured, "ambient" chords for the improvising instrument. The last piece here is also the earliest: "Reflexes," from 1961, features tape experiments very similar to those of
John Cage from the same period. The drum itself is played and then processed repeatedly to get it to sound like anything other than itself. When the real thing is superimposed over the top and tape speeds are messed with, manipulated, and tweaked into overdrive, it becomes a collage not only of drums, but also of the very notion of percussion as an instrument itself instead of as a means of speech and language. The first volume of
Looking Ears could easily stand alone as a compendium of the definitive works of one fine, if obscure -- in Yankee land, anyway -- composer and musical adventurer. Thank goodness there's more to come. ~ Thom Jurek