The extent to which behavior is simply a series of mechanical
operations is an issue which has simultaneously flustered
and fascinated many a generation. Hobbes mused that
reason is but the addition and subtraction of consequences,
and Pascal and his dear invention the Pascaline further
besmirched the notion of reason as that which might
set people apart from mechanical automatons - otherwise
known as animals. The puzzle has since passed through
a mélange of hills and valleys, and in his own
comic way, Pierre Bastien now engages with this desire
to extinguish human error and fatigue and applies it
to a musical setting.
Bastien, a French composer with a background in sound
installation who has worked with numerous dance companies,
does this by building his own mechanical orchestra.
His ensemble, which consists of Meccano pieces and recycled
turntable motors, enjoys eighty contributors who play
everything from the Chinese lute to the Moroccan bendir,
the Javanese saron, and the violin. Bastien essentially
adopts two stances towards the development of these
pieces: for one, he has fun with the notion of machinery
as being characterized by overtly controlled, rigid,
herky-jerky motions, turning these machines into parodies
of themselves by over exaggerating the off-kilter loops,
the perfunctory, muted harmonics and marching band tempos.
Others, however, surprise for their fluidity and general
sensuality. Tut, in particular, startles on
account of its forlorn piano flicker and maniacal stretching
of strings. Even when compositions take rhythm as their
fulcrum, the sheer intricacy and pace of the arrangements
come as some surprise. Be that as it may, the sounds
are often familiar and safe. In the end, this album
remains distinguished for its curious concept, but less
so for anything pertaining to its execution.
Max Schaefer
3/5 |
